They were at a stoplight when a soldier dressed in army fatigues, average height, dark hair, walked across the crosswalk. He looked inside the car and must’ve noticed how scared she was, but she thought he’d kept walking. A few seconds later, the passenger’s side door opened and the man was ripped out.
The woman didn’t hesitate. She floored it and drove straight to a police substation. The post went on to explain the Army had no knowledge of one of their soldiers intervening in a civilian altercation.
A link led to a news clip on the incident. A reporter held a microphone up to a by-the-book police chief. “The move was risky. He couldn’t have known the gun wasn’t loaded. It could’ve gone off and we would never authorize or condone the use of that kind of force.” Another officer came onto the screen. “Let’s call a tomato a tomato. The guy’s a hero.”
Nothing she read about the guy, if any of it was actually about him, led her to believe him capable of kidnapping. She was leaning farther and farther in Levi’s direction and not just physically, because he was like gravity.
“As far as you could tell,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “from the times you interacted with him, Seabright’s nephew, Eli, was not being held against his will?”
After a sideways glance that held more glare than curiosity, he said, “Not at all.”
“And you’re sure he only has him in the summers?” If that were the case, where was Elliot Kent the rest of the year?
His left shoulder rose just enough to make him tighten in reaction to the pain the movement caused. “No,” he said, his voice strained. “Sometimes Eli was with him. Sometimes he wasn’t. That doesn’t mean he snatched the kid.”
He turned up a bumpy mountain road and winced. She pretended not to notice.
“You said he was hypervigilant Saturday night, like he was on a job. What exactly does Keith Seabright do?”
“Odd jobs here and there from what I could tell.”
“So like handyman stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“And that would require the need for hypervigilance? Because building a shelf over someone’s toilet is so dangerous.” When he didn’t answer, she exhaled. Loudly. So he would know she’d done it and she meant every molecule of air that left her lungs, too. “Levi, you’re still legally bound to this office. To the badge. You were deputized, a fact you only seem to remember when it benefits you.”
Former sheriff Redding had been the first to deputize Levi long before Sun came along. Levi was not only a legit businessman despite his upbringing, he was an expert tracker due to his summers being spent with the man many considered to be his biological grandfather.
After another reluctant moment, he caved. “Seabright’s been known to do a side job here and there for certain … government agencies.”
“He’s a mercenary?”
“Only when it’s for a good cause. He left the do-as-you’reordered life ten years ago.”
“I’ve never met a mercenary.”
“That you know of.”
“True. So now he hunts and picks berries and uses gas-generated power to charge his cell?”
“He usually gets his berries from the farmer’s market, but yeah. Pretty much.”
The farther up the mountain they went, the rougher the road became. Sun looked in the rearview to make sure Quincy and Zee were still with them.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking. He’s staying at Walden’s old place.”
“That would be my guess.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said he lived off-grid.”
“Nope.”
Walden had been living in town for the last few years, which worked better for him since he owned the only convenience-store-slash-gas-station in the area, but he’d once lived in a mobile home on his family’s land. The home burned down, but the hookups were still there.
Sun thought back to how evasive Walden was when they’d questioned him. “I’m beginning to think Walden knows more about Seabright than he’s letting on.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But if Seabright is so off-grid, will Eli be okay? What if he’s out here alone?”
An unconcerned smile spread across his face. “That kid could weather a winter in the Siberian tundra. Seabright taught him everything he knows.” He thought a moment, then asked, “Do you think the attempt on Seabright’s life has anything to do with Eli?”
She’d wondered that, too. “I have no clue. We certainly can’t rule it out, though what one has to do with the other is lost on me. How do you know him?”
“Seabright? He’d come into the bar sometimes and we got to talking. On top of everything else, he’s a certified electrician and did a few odd jobs at the distillery for me. Got to know him a bit. He’d bring Eli around every so often.”
She ticked off the man’s attributes on her fingers. “So he was in Special Forces, is a certified electrician, lives off the land, and does odd jobs for distilleries and secret government agencies. A true jack-of-all-trades. How did Elliot even end up with him?”
Levi studied the road, if one could call it that, his expression a mixture of concern and contemplation.
“The fact that your friend is a mercenary does shed a new light on things. I just can’t fathom how. Or why.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” The truck dipped as they traveled over a large pothole and Levi’s jaw flexed in response.
“Can I do anything?” she asked.
He glanced over at her in surprise. “I think you’re capable of just about anything.”
A grin widened her mouth before she reined it in. “I meant to help. This is clearly painful for you.”
“Ah. Open the glovebox.”
She did, assuming there’d be a bottle of painkillers inside, but she only saw registration and maintenance papers and an insurance card.
“Underneath the manual.”
She lifted the truck manual and felt around until she pulled out an envelope.
“You can take that home with you. Keep it safe. It would make me feel better.”
“What is it?”
“My will.”
The deadpan she graced him with only made him laugh. In turn, he winced again, much to her delight. “Hey, you asked.”
“Are you planning on dying soon?”
“No, but plans change.” He said it with such finality, it stopped her from probing further, and they rode in silence after that.
She folded the envelope in half and stuffed it in her bag. It made sense that he’d have a will. He was now worth a small fortune. And the fact that he didn’t trust his family hardly surprised her, but why give it to her? Why not just leave it with his lawyer?
After a thousand years of solitude, Sun started singing “Oklahoma” in her head just to give it something else to do besides think about the man sitting next to her. The case—or cases, depending—gave her a headache. The possibilities were simply too vast, and until they dug deeper, there was no sense in speculating. She needed more solid evidence to form an official opinion.
They pulled up to a cabin Sun hadn’t known existed. No sign of a burned-out mobile home in sight. Not that she knew all of the small hunting cabins in the area, but this one was actually pretty nice. The exterior well-maintained and any fire hazards kept far away from the main dwelling.