“What’ve you got?”

“Well, the house is framed, drywall is up, it’s plumbed, wiring is mostly done, the roof is on—and Melinda has a bun in the oven.”

“Whoa! How about that! Congratulations, my man!”

“Thanks, buddy—but she’s very pissy. She needs a house.”

“Gotcha. Let me make some calls, see what I can do. Maybe we can get this done for you before the weather turns.”

“I’ll pay overtime. I’ll sell my soul.”

Paul laughed. “Take it easy. I wouldn’t take your soul—I’m pretty sure it’s tarnished. Overtime might cut through some tight schedules, however.”

“I’d sure appreciate it. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

When he hung up the phone, Preacher turned from his chore of chopping vegetables for his soup. “What’s going on, man?” he asked.

“I have to get that house finished.”

“Mel getting impatient?”

“No. Mel’s got another one cooking.”

“Oh?”

“She’s pregnant again, Preach.”

“Oh! Wow, that’s great, man!” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Thanks. But just so you’re warned, she’s not too thrilled yet. Watch your step.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“David’s still a baby, and she feels like she just finished being pregnant. Plus she’s moody, she’s exhausted, she’s puking and she thinks I did it to her on purpose.”

“Ohhh,” he said. “Okay. But you? You okay?”

“Hey.” He grinned. “I’m great. I’d have five more. But I wouldn’t live to tell about it.”

“This ever make you feel… You know. Old?”

“Oh hell, no. Every time I get her pregnant, I feel about ten years younger. And if you tell her I said that, we’re both gonna die.”

“Okay then, we go easy with Mel. But hey. Good for you, man.”

When police officers are assigned a new area or beat, one of the first things they do is get intimate with it. Learn all the roads, houses, vehicles and people. In the city, where the population is dense, it takes a while, but eventually every yard and alley, every building and business, every suspicious character becomes part of a familiar landscape.

In the country, in the mountains, there’s a lot more ground to cover, an awful lot of back roads and hidden trails, but the people, buildings and vehicles are a little more sparse. Mike spent as much as a few hours every day driving and hiking the countryside surrounding Virgin River and the neighboring towns. He made frequent runs by the old rest stop, but nothing much seemed to have changed there—he’d expect to see a lot of trash if the place had been used recently for a party.

As he roamed closer to the countryside and mountains surrounding Clear River he saw a couple of structures he chose not to get too close to—one appeared to be a very small prefab house and the other a storage shed. Both had recent tire tracks leading to them—off-road vehicle tracks, probably quads or Jeeps. Neither was in plain sight, though it wasn’t certain they were hidden in the trees and growth; it could be the owner’s preference to be unobtrusive. But on the chance one or both were illegal grows, he kept his distance—sometimes such enterprises were booby-trapped. And besides wanting to know what was out there, this wasn’t really his business. It was all just part of knowing the lay of the land, and it was lonely work.

There was a lot of interesting signage out this way. No Trespassing and No Hunting were pretty common, but now and then he’d see Trespassers Will Be Shot, Guard Dogs Patrolling and Hunters Will Be Hunted. They didn’t sell such signs at the hardware store—they were hand stenciled or spray painted. One sign that said Firearms Prohibited In This Area was riddled with buckshot.

Quite often he ended up at the place he’d begun to think of as Whispering Rock, the place he’d shared with Brie last spring. He’d park his SUV upstream and walk along the riverbank. From time to time there’d be a fisherman or two, though the water here was too shallow for a good catch. He’d seen a young couple sharing a blanket on the ground, doing what appeared to be homework. When he’d walked into the clearing they’d looked up in surprise, maybe a little nervous by his sudden presence—so he’d smiled, waved and walked back upriver, leaving them alone.

He liked to be there in the late afternoon when the sun was shining. He could almost see Brie leaning against that big boulder, eyes drifting closed, smiling her secret smile. He stayed a little later than usual one day, through the setting of the sun. He’d just been thinking how nuts it was to do that without a flashlight when he heard a car engine. He assumed it would be young lovers, for this was not a place to be in the dark—there were no lights and it was far off the main road. Before he could be seen, he started up the river, back toward his vehicle. Something made him stop; the car had pulled into the clearing, the lights remained on, but he didn’t hear the sound of a car door. He stood and just listened for a moment. Young lovers would kill the lights. What other business was there at this isolated bend in the river, after dark?

He waited; the engine continued to run, the lights shone. Mike walked the short distance back to that spot, looked through the trees and saw the form of a single man inside the truck. Waiting. Now his curiosity was stirred and he watched.

It was probably ten minutes before a second vehicle pulled up to the clearing, another truck. The engines of both vehicles remained on, headlights illuminating the clearing, but when the second vehicle arrived, one man emerged from each truck.

Then it got interesting. From the first truck stepped Detective Delaney and from the second, a man Mike recognized as a well-known illegal grower. He was a big guy, just over six feet, and wore his signature Shady Brady hat. Over the past year Mike, Jack and Preacher had all had a little unexpected traffic with him. The first time was before Mike got to Virgin River—the man took Mel out to an illegal grow to deliver a baby. Most recently, the man showed them where to find Paige when her abusive ex-husband abducted her; it was very probable the guy had saved her life. He was an enigma—clearly a criminal, but apparently with a humanitarian side.

The men faced each other; Delaney leaned on the hood of his truck, and the grower kept his hands in his pockets. They didn’t shake hands or greet each other as friends, and no money or goods changed hands—it was not a drug buy. In less than five minutes they got back into their respective trucks and left the area.

There were a number of possibilities, but the most likely was that Delaney had himself an informant inside the cannabis trade.

Nine

Paul Haggerty would help Jack anytime he could—that went without saying. It being a profitable venture for him as well made it even more palatable. But when he got right down to it, the deal maker was the fact that Vanessa was now residing in Virgin River.

He found six men who were ready to sign on immediately, so he had a contract drawn up for Jack and faxed it to the bar. Next he leased a large mobile home and had it delivered to the homesite, along with a portable toilet and commercial Dumpster for the grounds. His crew could drive down and sleep in the trailer during the week, going home weekends if they so chose. He’d haul his own small trailer for himself. He’d change out and add crews as progress was made on the house. Jack would have to double as a foreman because Paul couldn’t stay in Virgin River all the time. He was leaving his dad and two brothers to run their construction company while he took on this project and he’d have to spend some time back in Grants Pass trying to pull his own weight.

While the structure was being completed, Paul would scout around the area for painters, carpet layers, tilers, paperhangers, cabinetmakers. Jack would have no trouble having light and plumbing fixtures and appliances installed, once Mel chose them. The house had been started last spring and great progress had been made, but alone, it would take Jack another year. Together, with crews, they might be able to finish it in a few months. If the weather didn’t hamper them too much, by early spring at least.

And during that time he would see Vanessa. The idea threatened to give him hives. He loved being around her, went nuts with her effervescence and buoyancy. The problem was that he found her just as sexy and distracting pregnant as he had that very first night Matt put the moves on her. He wondered if he was just setting himself up for a lot of long, troubling nights of thinking about her and feeling sorry for himself because he would never, under pain of death, touch his friend’s woman. He felt guilty that he even wanted to.

But this would be his secret, that he desired her, worshipped her. And while Matt was at war, Paul would look in on her from time to time, be sure she was holding up.

He and Matt were like brothers. They had gone to the same Oregon high school, had a couple of years of college together, joined up and went into the Corps together. But Matt was the one who was confident with the girls, while Paul had always been the reluctant one, a little shy. It was hard for him to make that first move; he’d always had to think it through for a long time before he could work up to approaching a woman. He’d overcome a lot of that by now, but not enough. He’d never have the speed, finesse and confidence of his best friend.

He remembered that night just a few years ago as if it was yesterday. Matt was on leave and they met in San Francisco to do the town. They were out drinking when they spotted a group of flight attendants on layover at one of the bars. Paul had said, “Oh, my God, would you look at that! Would you look at her!”

“Which one?” Matt asked.

“The leggy one with the red hair and gold skin. I’m going to pass out.”

“I’ll go get her for you.”

“No! God, don’t do that. Wait till I figure out something….”

And Matt grinned and said, “Three, two, one… I’m gone.”

But he didn’t bring her back. Instead, he waved Paul over and tried to hook him up with one of Vanessa’s friends. And Paul went along with it, because what else was he going to do? If he’d had an ounce of courage he would’ve said, “Stop! I saw her first! She’s mine!” To this day, he regretted that.

Before that weekend was over, Matt and Vanessa were in love. Since she had airline travel privileges and he was state-side, she spent every weekend with him for a year. A year after that Paul was best man at their wedding. He swore if he ever again saw a woman he was that drawn to, he would tackle her on the spot, probably knocking her off her feet, and never let her get away.

As far as he could remember, that hadn’t ever happened to him before. And it sure hadn’t happened since.

When Paul got to Virgin River he went directly to the job site to be sure everything was in place. The trailer had made it just fine and stood ready for his crews. His best supervisor, Manny, would be bringing materials on the big truck and the others would follow. He unhooked his fifth wheel, leaving it at the site, and drove his truck to the Booth household. When he pulled in, he immediately had second thoughts—he should have called her. But wouldn’t calling her indicate that she had some play in his coming here, doing this for Jack? That wouldn’t be good. So he just knocked on the door.

Walt answered, his glasses pushed up on his head and his newspaper in his hand. “Paul! Damn, boy! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on a job, sir,” he said, laughing. “We’re going to have to keep it on the downlow for now—I don’t think it’s out yet.”

“That so?” he asked, pushing open the door. “Come in, come in! You can tell us all about it. Vanessa! You won’t believe this!”

Paul stepped into the foyer of the house and looked around appreciatively. It wasn’t much from the outside—just a long, narrow ranch. But inside it was spacious with vaulted ceilings and lots of windows facing the stable and corral so they could watch their horses from the house. It looked as though the general had probably gutted it and had it completely remodeled. The foyer opened up into a great room with an impressive fireplace and lots of soft leather furniture. As Paul stepped into that room he saw that the dining room was to his right and he leaned slightly to peek into a huge modern kitchen. Down the hall, he assumed, were bedrooms. Out the great-room windows he could see horses in the pasture, the new stable and a view of the mountains and river. It wasn’t hard to tell why the general had chosen this place. He was a hunter, fisherman and sportsman who loved his horses.