“How about you?”
Steel shook his head. “Lost my crop. No one’s giving me work.” He shrugged. “Maybe those girls aren’t getting it around here.”
“They aren’t.” Troy sniffed. “Not from any of the dealers, anyway. Maybe someone else is giving it to them.”
Steel forced himself not to give away his surprise. “Who would give it to them?”
“Someone who wants something else from them.” Troy tapped his temple. “What any guy wants from a pretty young girl.”
“And then kills them? That’s pretty sick.”
“Heard someone tried to kill you. Seems like you’re not getting the message.”
Steel poked the bit of concrete again with the toe of his boot. “What’s the message?”
“The same thing the message always is. Stop asking questions.” Troy sniffed again. “Man, you ain’t ever going to get anywhere in this business if you can’t figure that out.” He eyed Steel. “But you aren’t really trying to get anywhere, are you?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Steel knew he had to end this line of inquiry fast or he’d lose all the ground he’d gained so far.
“It means no one’s going to tell you what you want to know, because no one’s got a death wish. Just open your eyes, man. This ain’t some outside job. It’s an inside job, if anything.”
“Wait—” Steel said when Troy got up. “I don’t get—”
“That’s right, and you ain’t going to get it from me. I’m just a junkie, man. I don’t know anything. Don’t even know what I just said to you.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his ragged black hoodie and strode away.
An inside job.
What the hell did that mean?
Steel’s words were still on Stella’s mind at lunchtime, when she grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She’d planned to order some takeout and eat in her vehicle down by Chance Creek, but it occurred to her she could do one better. After doing some research on her phone while standing in line at the Burger Shack, she drove straight to Silver Falls and turned down the road leading to Runaway Lodge.
As she’d hoped, she found Monica Hunt there cleaning up the lodge, which had been closed for so long. She’d thrown open all the windows and propped the door with a large rock. Inside, she was scrubbing kitchen cabinets.
“Hi, Stella, nice to see you,” Monica called out as soon as she spotted her.
“Just popping by for a few minutes. I’m on my lunch break. Want to come sit with me outside?”
“Gladly. I’ve got a salad in the fridge, so I’ll grab it and join you. I’m glad the rain stopped for a minute. Heard we’re supposed to get more later.”
She joined Stella at the beach, where they each perched on log rounds by the large bonfire circle and bent over their lunches. In her fifties, Monica was an energetic-looking woman dressed in khaki shorts, a yellow T-shirt and flip-flops. All she needed was a whistle on a string around her neck to complete her camp counselor ensemble, Stella thought.
“I used to love it here,” Stella told her. “We came every year when you opened the lake to the public, and I’d swim all day, then gorge myself on s’mores at night.”
“I think everyone did.” Monica smiled at the memory. “Those were the days. Sunshine, swimming and flowers galore. And then winter would roll around again.” She made a face.
“Any word from those boys of yours?”
“Not yet. I’m still planning my attack. Gotta hit them just right to lure them home from their exciting lives.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out a way.” Stella wondered what the Hunt brothers were like now. In their early thirties, she thought. A lot of the boys from around here in that age group had ended up in the military. Now they were coming home, bringing new life first to Chance Creek and, if Monica had her way, to Silver Falls, too.
“What brings you out here?” Monica asked in turn.
“Besides the lovely view?” The rain from that morning had cleared, leaving a tremulously blue sky. “Just an idea. You know I work at the sheriff’s office, right?”
Monica nodded.
“A lot of young people are getting in trouble with drugs these days, some quite seriously. It’s the opioids that are the worst, I think. Anyway, I checked, and it turns out Chance Creek’s rehab center lacks any support for teens, and I think that needs to change. I would like to hold a fundraising event to get things going. I’m just in the starting stages of thinking it through, but I wondered if we could hire Runaway Lodge as our venue. People would love to come here for a beach day.”
“That’s a good idea.” Monica nodded thoughtfully. “I would love a way to reintroduce myself to the people around here and let them know sooner or later we’ll be back in business. I’m all for supporting the community, too. I’m not sure a day of swimming will be exciting enough to draw a crowd, though. You’d need to make it more interesting.”
“I thought we could have food—and maybe some entertainment,” Stella said uncertainly.
“Of course, but I think to get the numbers you’re talking about, you’d need something more. Don’t you?”
“Maybe. But what?” Stella asked.
Monica took a bite of her food, and Stella followed suit, racking her brain for an idea.
“My boys always liked competing,” Monica mused when she’d swallowed. “Maybe there could be some kind of contest people could participate in? Swimming or boating…?”
“A water Olympics,” Stella blurted out. “A whole day of events. People could sign up ahead of time and train for them. There could be silly prizes. A podium for the first, second and third place winners to stand on. We could have a photographer—”
“I love it,” Monica exclaimed. “We could do opening and closing ceremonies,” she improvised. “Maybe fireworks?”
Stella considered this. “Maybe, now that we’ve gotten some rain. But only if we get enough between now and then. The last thing we need is another fire.” She bit her lip.
