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And how much was wanting to tell his wife about the claim?
What if the partners weren’t ready to make the application? I know it requires on-site visits and physical staking of the land.
What if Bruno had been ready to apply, but his partner wasn’t? What if Bruno had all the information for that application—as someone who’d worked on mining operations—and that was the power he’d wielded over his attacker, the reason he’d felt comfortable meeting them.
So, you tried to kill me. Have you realized the problem with that yet? I have what you need to make that claim.
If that was the case, Bruno’s partner wouldn’t be arguing to leave.
They’d be arguing to stay.
I rise from my chair. “I need to speak to Gunnar.”
“Gunnar?” Yolanda shakes her head. “He wasn’t trying to go home sooner. He was fighting like hell to…” She curses. “Hereallydidn’t want to go early, when I thought he’d be weaseling his way onto that first flight back to civilization.”
“Exactly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Gunnar’s “perch” is over a half-constructed storage building. It’s framed and roofed, but the sides are only partly on. He parks himself in the loft, tucked into the roof shadow, and from there, he can see the entire town.
He can watch people, like Bruno, slipping out when they aren’t supposed to.
Penny said she followed Yolanda out of curiosity. That’s natural. Yet Gunnar saw Bruno coming and going and never wondered why? I don’t buy it.
As we head toward Gunnar’s perch, Yolanda takes me looping around one of the residence buildings. Once we come around the back, the moonlight hits Gunnar’s perch.
“He’s there,” she mutters. “See his damn boots?”
I peer up and, sure enough, in the shadows there are two soles, toes pointed up, as Gunnar surveys his domain from on high. When Yolanda tries to march out, I stop her. I map out an alternate route, and we back up into the forest and circle around that way.
The first level of the storage shed is roughed in. It has walls and a door, and that door is shut. It isn’t locked, though. There’s nothing inside to protect yet.
I ease open the door and poke my head through. Silence from above. That we saw just one pair of boots suggests Gunnar isn’t “entertaining,” but I still listen. When no sound comes, I creep inside, my flashlight shaded to a dim glow.
There’s a ladder right in front of me. I brace one foot on it, testing for noise, but like everything else, it’s sturdy and when I climb, it doesn’t so much as creak. I continue to the top. Yolanda follows, and I don’t try to stop her. I’ll take the backup. I’ll just make sure she stays at my back, out of danger.
At the top, I ease out my gun. I hold it low and out of sight as I make my way across the plank floor of the loft. When I see a shape to my left, I stop short, but it’s only a pile of blankets. My light picks up a box of condoms on the floor.
Ahead, Gunnar sits against a post. I can only make out his lower legs and boots from this angle, and I approach with caution. When a board creaks behind me, I go still, but Gunnar doesn’t seem to hear it. I continue until I’m a few feet from that post.
“Gunnar?” I say. “I’d like to talk to you.”
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. His legs stay completely still. I race forward, gun out, bracing for what I’ll find.
When I see the boots and legs, my gut twists because that’s all I see. Gunnar isn’t leaning against that post. There’snothingagainst that post. There are jean-clad legs and boots and—
“Son of a bitch,” I whisper, as I realize I’m not seeing some grotesque tableau with only part of a corpse.
I’m seeing a setup. A pair of boots propped on their heels, attached to a pair of jeans stuffed just enough so that anyonelooking up from below, at the right angle, sees boots and lower legs and presumes Gunnar is in his perch.
I stride over and shine my flashlight beam on the boots and jeans.
“Can you tell if those are his?” I ask Yolanda.
She picks up a boot and checks inside. “Yep.” A check on the laundry tag on the jeans. “Also his. They’re labeled.”
“How many pairs of boots does he get?”
