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“Look, man, I know she’s your…whatever. But facts are facts.”
Otto was out of the truck in less than a second, rounding the hood in long strides. “What facts?”
“There’s freshly cut wood next to the cabin,” Rumi said slowly, like Otto couldn’t understand him. “A fire goin’ in the fireplace, guns and explosives in the floor… and oblivious Estherlivin’here in the middle of it all with no electricity? I don’t buy it.” He paused to pull the hood of his sweatshirt up as it started to rain. “Somethin’ stinks. I’m guessin’ Esther here was the lookout. Good chance she already called someone.”
Ignoring their argument, I slid down from the truck and through the group of men who moved out of my way. There was a lot I couldn’t explain, and I was having a really hard time wrapping my head around what the heck was going on, but there was one thing I could clear up pretty easily.
Without a word, I walked over to the stump I used for splitting and pulled it away from the side of the cabin, just in case there really was a bomb inside. I looked around for a roundthat was reasonably dry and found one leaning against a tree a few feet away. It was easy enough to perch it on the stump. I could feel their eyes on my back as I stripped my coat off and draped it carefully so it wouldn’t get wet inside. Then, grabbing the axe, I lifted it over my shoulder and swung it as hard as I could, splitting it halfway through.
“Esther,” Otto called, coming toward me.
I waved him away silently and lifted the axe again, splitting the round completely through the center.
“Esther,” he called again, his voice sounding closer and exasperated.
“Just a minute,” I grunted, re-settling the half-round on the stump. With two more whacks, I’d split it into small enough pieces for the fireplace.
Turning around, I looked and found Rumi still standing next to the truck. “Isplit the wood.”
“Clearly,” Otto’s uncle Will said in amusement.
“Come away from the goddamn cabin,” Otto snapped, grabbing the axe from my hands as he shoved me toward my coat. “Jesus Christ.”
“I was just showing him—”
“I know what you were doin’,” he said as he tugged me back toward the truck. “Ignore him.”
“I should call my dad,” I said, my mind finally clearing a little as I pulled Otto to a stop. “I’ll ask him if he knows anything about the crates.”
Otto stared at me like I had two heads.
“Sugar, you realize why we’re here, right?” he said gently, leaning down to look closely into my eyes.
“You think those crates are yours, right?” I said, glancing toward the cabin. “And someone stole them and hid them in the floor.”
“Right.”
“Well, why don’t I just call my dad and see if he knows anything about them?” I said. It sounded rational to me. “It seems like it’ll save you guys a lot of trouble and then if that stuff is yours, you can just take it, and I can go back inside.”
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“Why don’t I—”
“No, I heard you,” Otto said, carefully ushering me the rest of the way to the truck. “You’re not callin’ your dad.”
“But—”
“And you’re not steppin’ foot back in that cabin.”
“That’s where Ilive.”
“Not anymore,” Otto replied grimly.
“She okay?” Micky asked.
“Shock maybe?” Otto replied out of the side of his mouth.
“I’m not in shock,” I argued.
