Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

really livable would have cost more than it was worth.”

“I do believe you are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Because I can drive a nail?”

“Not just that. You are a partner, a crew member, not a passenger.”

The boathouse was intact, and a very timid Wesson heard their voices and came running. “I’m glad she had sense enough to run.” He knelt beside Wesson, rubbing her head.

Too polite for jumping, yet eager enough for kissing, nudging and nosing, Wesson communicated her relief quite clearly. A horn honked, and they headed back to the smoldering ruins.

“Got a plan yet?” Carol asked.

“First, collect Emily, check on Smith, then feed us. Think about tomorrow.”

Gabe opened the rear passenger door, and Wesson jumped in. “What else?”

She was still angry. “We find the jerks who did this and thank them Texas-style.”

Zack, Mickey, and Emily were getting out of Zack’s truck in shock and awe. Emily was crying; Mickey and Zack were staring into the charred remains. Emily ran to her mother and held on tight.

“Was it . . . ?” Zack began.

“Arson? Yes,” Gabe answered.

“Any idea who?”

“Not yet. They left gas cans, which might have prints. That’s all we’ve got right now.”

“Whatever we can do to help. My house is empty, and you all are welcome,” offered Zack. “I’m glad we had our laptops and phones. That would have been a disaster.”

“Would it be okay for Em to stay with you?” Carol asked.

“Sure, for as long as necessary.”

“I want to see what Gabe’s going to do, but I need to go back to our house. Get more clothes and stuff. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Right. Whatever you need. Just call.” Zack said.

Emily hugged and kissed her mom, then climbed back into Zack’s truck. It was getting dark and cooling. The stench from the fire was noxious. Gabe stood behind Carol and wrapped his arms around her. They watched Zack’s pickup disappear into the trees.

“We’re alone, and I need a real hug,” she said. She turned and buried her head in his chest.

Safe in Gabe’s arms, she was quiet. Then with a sob, she said, “Please tell me Paul didn’t do this, oh, God, please.”

Gabe kissed her and then stepped back. He began looking through the ashes where the porch had been.

“What are you looking for?”

“The wood-splitting maul. It’s going to take a ton of wood to get over this one.”

First stop was the vet’s. Smith had been shot near the hip and below her spine. It was a through and through, with no bone damage. She was still sleeping off the anesthetic. “You can take her home in two or three days,” the vet said. “She’s going to be sore for a while. I’ll give you pain meds. You’ll know when she needs them.” Next stop, Carol’s house for clothes. Then to the store. They found a pizza-to-go and finally arrived at Gabe’s big Montana RV.

They sat in two large recliners and ate the pizza, comforted by the very realistic electric fireplace and soft music.

Carol raised her glass in a toast. “To our new life together. No fires, no shooting, no more tears.”

“To our new life. Cheers.” Glasses clinked, and they both drank.

Gabe’s phone chimed. It was a New Orleans area code. He answered expecting Alethea. Cas surprised him. “We were at Mére’s lot with her new builder and saw the smoke, are you all right?”

“Yes, but the house is gone.”

“I’m sorry about the house. I want to see you. We need to talk.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Tomorrow, lunch. I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” The phone went silent.

“Who was it?” Carol asked.

“Alethea is back.” He looked away, feeling guilty for not telling the whole truth.

“Oh.” Carol’s tone was less than enthusiastic.

Later that evening Gabe’s phone rang again. “Hey, man,” Bob began, “something I didn’t want to tell you in front of Carol. There were bullet holes in her car. Twenty-two most likely, or two-two-three, an AR or Mini-14. Won’t know until we get a better look. Thought you should know.”

“Cas,” Gabe swore under his breath.

CHAPTER 27

0600

Gabe’s RV

Smoke lifting

Gabe woke on the couch of his RV to the smell of coffee and toast. Carol was dressed in sweats and smiling as he sat up and tried to reenter the world of fully functional people and leave the world of the comatose and mostly unresponsive.

“I like your bedroom, and that’s a great bed,” she said. “I slept.”

She brought him coffee and then sat at the dinette. He got up and rumbled up the steps to the bathroom. He returned in jeans and sweatshirt, still barefooted, and joined her at the table.

“I can’t believe the fire,” she began, “If it wasn’t Paul, then who? And why?”

“Someone sending us a message. I’m just not sure what message.”

Was it Paul or Cas? Rogers and his crew? Could Zack have left the theater and set the fire to avenge his mother? The gas cans proved it was no accident.

“I still want to buy the property and get started on a new house as soon as we can,” she said.

“You don’t give up, do you? Well, I guess that’s a good thing.”

“I want to start fresh now. Are you in or not?”

“Reality check. How about the kids? This is serious stuff for them.”

“Okay, we’ll talk with them. Both of us. Emily would be happy if we got married tomorrow. She loves you, and that’s that. Isn’t Paul scheduled to be at the dive locker tomorrow?”

“Yes. But I’ve got diving to do. I need to recover Wilson Corbitt’s Pelican case before someone else does. And we promised Wilson we would find Nancy.”

“That’s such a sad story. They had their whole lives . . .”

“We never know how much time we really have,” he said philosophically.

“Do you think Paul burned the river house?” She was curled in a chair, arms around her shins. Her chin on her knees.

“You’ve asked me that at least six times. No, I doubt it.”

“Then what do you think?” she asked. She unwrapped a