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“He set up a meeting for next week after I put him off. I don’t know what to tell him. I’m pretty certain I’ll get no money from the practice in Rochester. It will be months, maybe a year or more, before we even know exactly what is happening there. I can’t wait that long. I have to support my family.”
My family. His words resonated in her heart. “What do you really want to do?”
His green eyes were full of worry. “I like Mike. He’d be a great guy to work with, and he might work with me on the buy-in. But I’d be on call and gone a lot.”
“And if you had your own practice here?”
“Less money and more headache to own my own business.”
“But you could set your own hours and not be on call. In emergencies the hospital is already used to send patients to Houghton. Even you got transferred to Houghton. Our small hospital isn’t really equipped for major surgeries. Would you be wasting your talents to open a practice in Rock Harbor though?”
She knew he was well trained and a good orthopedic surgeon.
He frowned. “Maybe, but being with you and Kylie would be worth it.”
She hugged him. “Let’s explore the options before you decide. Look at buildings you can lease here. Talk to Mike. I want you to be happy.”
Whatever he decided was fine with her. He was staying here with Kylie and her forever. That was all that mattered.
Seven
Annie stepped inside Glenn Hussert’s house and let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. “Thanks for letting me check it out myself, Mason.”
She was eager to find something—anything—that might help them discover who was behind Hussert’s escape. A distraction would help ease the pain of hugging her baby girl good-bye for a week. Kylie had been too excited to do more than endure a quick embrace before she darted toward Bree’s lighthouse.
Mason opened the heavy curtains at the picture window, and morning sunlight streamed into the room. “I think we’ve gone over it well, but another pair of eyes can’t hurt. And when we’re done here, we need to go check on Michelle if you’re game. I want to make sure she’s okay. Sarah told me she didn’t believe Michelle would willingly try to work things out with her husband.”
Annie had a feeling her sister might be right.
Jon stood off to one side as if he was trying not to be intrusive, and Annie beckoned him over. “Look for anything that seems out of the ordinary,” she told him.
While he wasn’t law enforcement, he’d met Glenn and might spot something that didn’t ring true to what they knew about theman. Glenn owned Bunyan Fisheries, he was married, and he was a hunter. Those facts didn’t necessarily tell the whole story of who he was, but it was all they had to start with.
Annie spotted a picture on the end table of Glenn with a pretty redhead. “Where’s his wife?”
“At work,” Mason said. “I let her know we wanted to have another look around. She wasn’t thrilled about it.”
The house was spotless. The living room furnishings seemed expensive. Leather sectional, nice rug and draperies, the right touches of decor. Annie had heard Glenn’s wife was an interior designer, and it showed.
Jon knelt in front of an end table and rummaged inside a drawer that appeared to hold loose pictures. He studied each one before laying it aside on top of the wood surface. Annie knew Mason had checked those pictures, too, so she didn’t expect much, but Jon straightened and came toward her with a picture in hand.
“Probably nothing, but check this out.”
At first glance the picture he handed her didn’t seem odd. Dressed in camouflage, Glenn stood among thick trees with a rifle over one shoulder. One foot was atop a deer, and he wore a big grin. A typical successful hunter picture she’d seen re-created a thousand times over the years.
She glanced at Jon for explanation, and he moved closer to her. “Two questions. The first time we interviewed him, he wore a John Deere hat, remember?”
“Sure.”
“What’s he wearing here?” He tapped the hat.
“A Massey Ferguson hat.” She glanced at Mason. “What yard equipment does Glenn own?”
Mason approached. “He’s a big John Deere fan. I don’t think he owns anything but that brand. Tractor, big snowblower for the fishery, lawn sweeper. Just about every yard tool you can imagine is in his shed, and it was all John Deere.”
Her attention went back to the hat. “The only hat I’ve seen him wear is a John Deere one, so why the Massey Ferguson hat?”
“You’re right,” Mason said. “I don’t know what it might mean though.”
