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“Parker,” I said, taking it.
Ace turned out to be the chatty sort. He was in his late twenties and had been working out here for seven years. He’d recently been promoted to crane operator, he’d boasted with a genuine grin, which was a designation that took some training and licensing to accomplish.
Together, we put a dent in the banana bread. “This company is my home. I was such a shithead when I was younger. Bouncing around from job to job, partying too much, getting into all kinds of bad shit. But my friend’s uncle worked here and hooked us up.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. Still can’t thank Richard enough for setting us up.”
I perked up at the mention of Richard Bernard. He was still an enigma I was trying to figure out.
“I was such a fuck-up. I wasn’t used to such hard work. But I liked it. Being out here, breathing fresh air and actually accomplishing something beats the hell out of serving fast food, you know? And Richard has been a mentor to me. He’s the one who promoted me and pushed me to go for my operator’s license.”
“And your friend?”
“Worked here on and off, but it never stuck. Richard’s upset about it. Always wanted Norman to have a good life.”
I smiled. Ace was a good kid, and while I had very little interest in operating a crane, I did want to know more about his friend Norman.
Turning back to my computer, I pulled up timesheets from a few years ago. “Is this him?” I asked. “Norman Bernard. Birthday April thirteenth, 1995?”
He nodded, his mouth full.
“It says here he last worked for Gagnon four years ago.”
Ace shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “No, ma’am. I’ve seen him around camp off and on the last couple of years. Pretty sure he was here within the last year or two.”
My eye twitched as I typed, capturing every word out of Ace’s mouth.
“Yeah. Richard sometimes has him up here doin’ odd jobs and helping out during the busy season.”
“Recently? Are you sure?”
He pursed his lips and squinted like he was digging through memories. “Yes. I keep my distance. I’ve got a great job and a fiancé now. I’m not looking for trouble. He’s gotten pretty hard over the years. Mixed up with bikers. Lots of ink.”
Schooling my features and twining my hands in my lap, I suppressed the urge to hug Ace. He didn’t know it, but he was giving me absolute gold right now.
I scratched my head, playing dumb. “Huh. That’s so weird. He’s not in any records from the last couple of years. And it says he was terminated four years ago. The file says erratic behavior, being late, mishandling equipment.”
“Sounds like him.” He nodded with a frown. “We were both full-time employees, getting benefits and the whole thing. I kept moving up, and he got fired. But sometimes people come back for seasonal work.”
“But there are no records.”
Ace smiled. “That’s normal. Some guys, usually the more, shall we say, unstable ones, like to be paid in cash. Every winter, a handful will show up looking for work, and depending on how far behind we are, Richard might hire them.”
“But doesn’t the company have to train them?”
“Most people around here practically grew up doing this. They know the ropes. Plus, they’re not the guys driving trucks or operating machinery. They put the straps on the trees after they’re felled, run wood chippers to get rid of brush, drive the trash to town so we don’t attract bears, that kind of stuff.”
“Ah.” I nodded, still typing.
“The last several times Norman was hanging around here, another guy was with him. Big dude. Older, with a gray beard. He’s a biker. Don’t know his real name. Everybody called him by his nickname.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I wanna say it’s Grinder.”
I was furiously typing when Ace’s eyes narrowed. “You puttin’ this all in your book?”
I paused and gave him my best disarming smile. “It’s going to be a series of books, actually. And I like to do really thorough research so I can make things as realistic as possible.”
He nodded. “Okay, good. ’Cause I don’t want Norman or Grinder to know I was talking about them. They have connections to some scary people.”
