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He braced one long leg against the floor, his other leg bent at the knee and swinging free. Completely masculine and attractive. And she was trying very hard not to stare.
Jill cleared her throat. “I’ve come to ask about your accusations against my brother.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Your brother?”
“Yes, Alan Russell.”
Dawning flooded his face. “So you’re Al’s sister?”
“Yes.” Something hardened inside of her. Yesterday, she’d wanted to help Brent Knowles and his little girl. But right now, she was interested in protecting her own family. She squelched her sentimental feelings, determined to keep her loyalties straight. Family came first.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said.
“You’ve made accusations against him.”
He stared at her in stony silence. Then, he stood and walked around to his chair, placing the obstacle of his desk between them. He sat down and crossed his infinitely long legs, seeming to choose his words carefully. “That isn’t true, Jill. No accusations have been made against your brother, or anyone else for that matter. At least, not by the Forest Service.”
“But there’s been gossip around town that you believe Alan is stealing timber. A lot of gossip.”
A serene smile of tolerance played at the corners of his full mouth. She sensed that he was trying to be polite but still had to do his job.
“I’m afraid we don’t build cases of theft off of town gossip,” he said. “And even if we did, I wouldn’t be able to discuss the case with you.”
His words placed another blockade between them. It felt odd after yesterday, when he’d been so forthcoming about Evie’s problem. She wanted to like this man but realized that might be impossible now.
“Since I own a half interest in the sawmill, I have a right to know what’s going on,” she said.
He took a deep inhale, the expanse of his chest widening even further, if that were possible. “I can understand your frustration. But at this point, all we know is that a lot of timber has been harvested illegally from Cove Mountain. We don’t know for sure who the guilty party might be. No charges have been made against anyone. Yet.”
Yet. That single word echoed through the room like a shout and the silence thickened.
She quirked one brow. “Then, you haven’t told any of your employees that you believe Alan is the thief? And that you plan to prosecute him to the fullest extent of the law?”
That’s what Mom had claimed last night as Jill had tried to soothe her tears. But then again, Mom frequently blew situations like this out of proportion. Hence, Jill had decided to learn the truth.
He hesitated. “The discussions that take place between me and my employees are confidential. I don’t know where you’ve gotten your information, but it’s not correct. Right now, I don’t know who the guilty party is.”
Jill’s shoulders stiffened. She’d seen this scenario before during her childhood. The assumption would be that the owner of the sawmill was in on the theft. And in such a small town as Bartlett, gossip spread like wildfire. Hearing that her brother was a thief didn’t sit well with Jill. No, not at all.
“What do you intend to do about the situation?” she asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you right now. But I can tell you that I’ve called in the LEI to perform an investigation.”
Oh no! The LEI was the Forest Service’s Law Enforcement and Investigation unit. Jill bit the inside of her cheek to hide her panic. She knew the drill. A special agent would come to Bartlett and investigate the theft. No doubt her family’s sawmill would bear the brunt of the inquiry. And if they didn’t cooperate, Alan would look even more guilty.
“Then, you don’t currently have plans to charge my brother with a crime?” she asked.
He sat back, his chair squeaking. “No, not at this time.”
“I can understand why you’ve called for an investigation, but do you have any reason to believe Alan is responsible?”
“Not yet. Large tracts of ponderosa pine have been harvested in the mountains bordering the cutblock where your mill was contracted to cut trees. The thieves decimated the area, leaving nothing for the future. That’s all I can tell you at this time.”
Her heart plummeted. All it took was for Martha, or one of Brent’s other employees, to talk about the theft at the dinner table with their family, and news soon spread. It wouldn’t even do Jill any good to ask who the gossip might have come from. It could be anyone. It didn’t matter, now. Chances were she’d known the culprit all her life and they were friends. And threatening Brent with a slander lawsuit wasn’t Jill’s style. She didn’t like contention. Besides, she couldn’t prove it and doubted it would go anywhere. But she still needed to do some damage control.
She held his gaze for several pounding moments. He lifted his chin in challenge.
“So, because my family’s sawmill was contracted to cut timber near the area where the trees were stolen, you think my brother is guilty of the theft. You don’t know for certain?”
He released a soft sigh. “Again, I don’t think anything right now. No accusations have...”
“I know, I know. No accusations have been made against anyone yet.” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.
His expression softened with empathy. “I’m sorry, Jill. I can’t say anything more. But rest assured I’ll contact you about it as soon as I can.”
His eyes darkened to a steely blue and she heard the soft edge of professionalism in his voice. He didn’t like this situation any more than she did. But that wouldn’t stop him from pursuing an investigation. Which might incriminate Alan and destroy the mill. Since Brent hadn’t made any formal accusations against Alan, she couldn’t really ask what evidence he might already have on her brother. Not if she expected a genuine answer.
For the first time, Jill felt an edge of uncertainty. Late last night, Alan had told her and Mom that he was innocent. But what if he’d lied to them? He’d always been so honest. So kind and generous. But everyone had their limits. In this rotten economy, the construction industry had been hit hard. Meeting their payroll and other bills had become difficult. Could Alan have become desperate enough to start pilfering timber? Jill knew he’d do almost anything to keep Mom safe. But did that include theft and lying to cover it up?
She hauled in a deep breath, her mind a jumble of unease. No, Alan wouldn’t do such a thing. Would he?
She didn’t like the pang of suspicion that nibbled at her mind. Maybe it was time she went down to the sawmill office and took a look at the books herself. It’d been months since she’d worked there, and she had to know what was going on. If for no other reason than to help reassure her agitated mother that her only son wasn’t going to lose their family business and end up in prison.
* * *
Brent gazed at Jill with regret. A blaze of compassion sliced through his heart, but he ignored the urge to blurt out the truth. He couldn’t compromise this case. There was too much to lose. Including his livelihood. He liked Jill Russell. A lot. But he also had a job to do. And that must come first. “I’m sorry about this situation, Jill. I truly am. But the gossip didn’t come from me.”
“So, what are we supposed to do now?” she asked.
He caught the twinge of hurt in her voice and hated it. For some reason, he felt protective of this woman and longed to shield her from this problem. “Anything you like.”
“You really can’t tell me something more?”
“Not right now. As soon as I can, I promise to give you a call.” Brent met her gaze, trying to concentrate. The naked fear in her eyes haunted him, along with the sweet fragrance of her hair. He took a deep inhale, drawn to this woman in spite of the warning sirens going off inside his head. After her kindness to him and Evie yesterday afternoon, he wasn’t being much help. Of course Jill was worried about her brother and the sawmill. It was only natural. And Brent blamed himself.
“How long will the investigation take?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
It would be unprofessional for him to tell her that timber theft was difficult to prove and the conviction rate was low. That was good for the thieves and bad for the victims of the crime, which in this case were the taxpayers.
She stood, bracing one hand against the armrest of her chair. She looked shaky and he reached out to clasp her arm and steady her. She flinched and he let go, wishing he could offer her more reassurance. That he could say something to put her at ease. But he couldn’t. Not yet, anyway.
He accompanied her to the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“Thanks for seeing me,” she said.
“Anytime. My door is always open to you.” And he meant it. He owed her that much.
She stepped out. He planned to follow her to the outer reception area, but she held up a hand. “I know the way. I’ll see myself out.”
As she walked down the hallway, he stared after her, thinking she had the longest legs he’d ever seen on a woman. Wishing he could call her back. Yearning to tell her all the facts. But his job prohibited it. Too much was riding on this case and he couldn’t jeopardize it by confiding in her.
Instead, Brent returned to his desk. Reaching for his keyboard, he rapped out a quick email to his staff members. First thing in the morning, he’d hold a quick meeting with all his employees to discuss the importance of confidentiality. No doubt one of his people had seen the investigation request he’d filed with the LEI, or overheard a conversation he’d had with his timber assistant about the stolen trees. Not once had Brent mentioned the Russell Sawmill in connection with the theft, but conjecture was bound to occur. Someone had assumed Alan Russell was to blame for the theft, and word had soon spread.
That wasn’t what was troubling Brent right now. He’d done his best to alleviate Jill’s concerns. But the truth was, Alan had already come forward to seek Brent’s help. Eight weeks earlier, the man had walked into Brent’s office and claimed he was being blackmailed by Frank Casewell, his mill manager. According to Alan, Frank was stealing the timber late at night and processing it at the sawmill to sell on the black market. If Alan turned Frank in, Frank had threatened to burn the sawmill to the ground. Which was something Frank had supposedly admitted to doing to another sawmill three years earlier in Missoula, Montana. No doubt Frank had threatened Alan in order to frighten him into keeping his mouth shut. But it hadn’t worked. Alan had fretted over the problem for two months, but he’d finally come forward, anxious to help convict Frank and protect his family’s business.
Now they needed proof. Evidence that would allow them to arrest Frank. If they could catch him and his accomplices in the act of stealing timber, they’d get a conviction. Otherwise, it was Alan’s word against Frank’s word.
Since he’d been working for the Forest Service in Montana at the time, Brent knew about the sawmill that had been burned three years earlier. A good friend of his had died in that fire and he was eager to obtain any evidence that would convict the culprit of murder. The fact that Alan had brought the matter to the authorities spoke highly of his integrity. But he’d still waited two months. Brent didn’t trust Alan either. Not completely. Until he had more evidence one way or the other, Brent planned to proceed with caution. He didn’t want the situation to get out of hand, but neither would he let down his guard until he had evidence to convict Frank.
Brent had already contacted the US Attorney’s office on Alan’s behalf. They were now working together to set up a sting operation to catch the guilty party. Unfortunately, Brent couldn’t tell Jill all of that. And neither could Alan. If he talked with anyone about the case, including his family, the deal with the US Attorney’s office was void. They couldn’t take the risk of letting others in on the plan as it might jeopardize them snagging Frank and his band of thieves. It was that simple and that serious. So they must wait on the LEI’s investigation.
And it was unfortunate for him that he’d lost Jill’s trust by denying her any more information. He’d wanted to put her at ease and keep her as a friend. Brent had been thinking of tracking her down and asking if she might help him with Evie. All he knew was that Jill was trained in special education and Evie had responded to her like no one else.
Under the circumstances, that plan seemed futile now. No doubt Jill wouldn’t take kindly to him asking her to work with his little girl. After all, he was the evil forest ranger. For most loggers, being the ranger was a similitude for being the Big Bad Wolf.
The enemy. Someone they could never trust.
Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Brent stood and walked down the dingy hallway to the watercooler. The modest offices of this forest district weren’t fancy, but it was Brent’s first ranger assignment. There were fewer than four hundred rangers nationwide, so it was an honor to get this job. Previously, he’d been a fire specialist at another national forest in Montana. He loved it here in Idaho and wanted so much to succeed. And he didn’t want to alienate the pretty sawmill owner in the process.
The spout gurgled as he filled a plastic cup with clear liquid and downed it in three quick gulps. The cup made a low popping sound as he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into the garbage can. Two points.
He didn’t dare ask for Jill’s assistance, but he had to help Evie somehow. He couldn’t lose her to the silent world she’d built around herself. She had a right to lead a normal, happy life like other kids her age. To grow up feeling secure. He’d tried everything he could think of and it hadn’t been enough. But he’d never quit on his child. Never give up hope.
Sauntering back to his office, he closed his door, wanting no interruptions while he considered what he should do. Sitting in his high-backed faux-leather chair, he ignored the creaking hinges as he leaned back and crossed his legs. He picked up a file of pictures his timber assistant had taken of the area where hundreds of ponderosa pine had been cut illegally.
The thieves had to be removing the timber at night, when no one would see their crime. Big trucks like that would be noticed coming down off the mountain during the daytime. But at night, the darkness would help conceal the theft. The work would require accomplices. Several people working together to cut, load and drive the stolen logs down to the mill for processing. Alan claimed he didn’t know who Frank’s conspirators were. That he hadn’t participated in the actual theft and he was never at the sawmill when Frank was processing the stolen timber.
For Jill and her mother’s sake, Brent hoped that was true.
Closing the file, he thought about the LEI investigator coming into town next week. Jill wouldn’t like it, but Brent had to consider the possibility that Alan Russell had been in on the crime from the beginning, but had gotten cold feet and reported the theft. Brent had seen this happen before. It was the most logical explanation. Frank Casewell would have too much trouble processing raw timber without working with someone on the inside. He needed the use of a mill. And who was more likely to have access and motive than one of the owners of Russell Sawmill?
Brent’s gaze swerved to the picture of Evie and her mom. He’d considered asking Jill out. On a real date. The first since before he’d married his wife. But that was no longer a possibility. Not after his jarring conversation with her this morning. Not as long as he posed any kind of threat to her brother.
Earlier that day, Brent had felt an inkling of hope for Evie. The first in over a year. Like God had finally answered his prayers and sent him someone to help his child. But now, that hope was dashed and all Brent felt was frustrated despair.
Chapter Three (#ulink_54fa6419-ccee-525f-b3a1-ab4f245c5cfb)
“Ida, can you get me the rest of the receivables, please?” Jill called to the front-office manager as she closed yet another file of invoices.
Sitting inside the shabby office at Russell Sawmill, Jill glanced up at the rustic accommodations. A main reception room with a front counter built by her father over twenty years earlier partitioned several old, metal flight desks where the clerical staff performed their daily work. Ida and another clerk occupied this domain, with Jill sitting in the far back corner. Alan had moved into Dad’s office. Frank Casewell, the new mill manager Alan had hired shortly after Dad’s death, inhabited the second office. The building also included a large conference room with a long, scarred table for meetings.
Sunlight fought its way through the coating of grime and sawdust on the windows. Jill made a mental note to clean them tomorrow morning. The threadbare carpet needed to be replaced, too. It was a pity Alan hadn’t renovated the office when he’d decided to spend two million dollars buying new technology for the mill.
And that was another problem. Alan had over-extended them in debt.
Ida handed Jill several files of invoices, her brows furrowed with concern. At the age of forty-seven, Ida was a proficient worker who had been at the mill for over fifteen years. She knew the accounts receivable like the back of her hand. The payables, too. And the latest OSHA regulations from the US Department of Labor.
“We’re too far in debt, aren’t we?” the matronly woman whispered low, for Jill’s ears alone. She cast a surreptitious glance over her plump shoulder at Karen, the pretty part-time clerk, who was busy answering phones.
“I’m afraid so.” It did no good to pretend. Not with Ida. She was smart and capable and had long ago proven she could keep a confidence.
Jill released a pensive sigh and pasted a smile on her face. “But we’ve been through rougher times than this.”
At least, Jill thought they had.
“I don’t know when,” Ida said.
Jill’s heart plunged. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now. Especially from someone she trusted. Having her fears voiced out loud made her entire body quake.
Ida patted Jill’s shoulder with reassurance. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”
That helped a teensy bit, but Jill hoped Ida was right. Until he’d died of a heart attack, Dad had always shielded his family from the careworn worries of the mill. Jill didn’t want to alarm her mother or the mill employees, for fear more gossip might spread. In this rotten economy, everyone naturally assumed the mill was struggling, but Jill didn’t want to confirm their doubts.
Jill rifled through a packet of overdue invoices. New flexible band saws, conveyors, scanners, lasers and even a bar-coding system to track inventory. Great for output, but very expensive. The mill was bringing in just enough to meet both the payroll and their monthly bills. They sure didn’t need a timber theft accusation to top everything off.
Two huge logging trucks lumbered past the windows. Jill whipped her head around to look. From her vantage point, she saw Alan pop up from his desk and saunter out to the front reception area.
“It’s sure good to have you back, sis.” He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled, a jagged thatch of hair falling across his high forehead.
Jill’s heart squeezed. No matter how old or tall he got, Alan was still her kid brother and she loved him so much. “It’s good to be home.”
And she meant it. It felt good to help in some small way.
“A new load just came in. Guess I better get out there to count it.” Alan gestured toward the door.
“Don’t forget this.” Ida handed him his cell phone.
A reminder that he was on call 24/7. Dad had refused to carry a cell, preferring a clunky black radio they called the brick. He’d resisted new technology like the plague. But even without a cell phone, he’d always been at the right place at the right time, seeming to know instinctively what everyone needed from him. And Jill missed him now more than ever.
“Thanks.” With a quick grin, Alan tucked the phone into his pocket, scooped up his yellow hard hat, and left the office.
Karen’s admiring gaze followed after him like a love-struck schoolgirl and Jill smiled with amusement.
She tried to tell herself everything was going to be fine, but she was worried. The financials didn’t look good and an ugly question kept pounding her brain. Had Alan become desperate enough for money that he’d stooped to stealing timber?
Jill had to find out the truth, and fast.
Forty minutes later, she was waiting for her brother when he returned. She gestured toward his office and he headed that way.
“Ida, we don’t want to be disturbed for a while,” he told the woman.
Ida gave a solemn nod of understanding.
Inside his office, Alan plopped down in his chair and leaned back. Jill closed the door and sat in a chair across from him.
He looked up and released a heavy sigh. “So, what’s the verdict?”
