Page 27 of Bait and Switch (Subtle Deceptions #2)

SEVENTEEN

Casey

Late afternoon, Wednesday

“At least they aren’t injured, or worse,” said Greta.

Her voice was tinny. The signal was weak, which meant the connection could drop at any time.

But Casey had his partner on speaker so they could bitch about most of a whole fucking day wasted, searching for people who hadn’t wanted to be found until they were ready.

But since their families hadn’t been in on the plan, they’d reported them missing.

Worse, when they were found, they were in a somewhat compromising position.

Why couldn’t it have been Tor or one of the other searchers who happened upon them? Casey had the worst luck.

“If I’d known what we were walking into, I would never have kept going. I’m not a prude?—”

“You kind of are,” Greta interrupted.

“—but I don’t need to see somebody’s ass and definitely not two somebodies’ bare asses. It would serve them right if they sat in nettles or worse. Sadly, it’s too cloudy and dark for sunburns.”

Greta snorted, agreeing with him.

What a waste of resources, that was what enraged him the most. They’d lied about where they were going to be, lied about their return plan, and consequently had wasted time and resources that could’ve been spent on a real emergency.

He wished he could see their expressions when the fine landed in their mailboxes. It was going to be a significant sum.

The not-missing hikers were “social media influencers,” a term Casey hated with a passion just on general principle.

What did that even mean? The two had deviated from their original course and hiked out to a bridge that had been built back in the 1930s by a now defunct timber company.

It was one of just a few of its kind in the country, as well as the fourth highest bridge on the West Coast, almost four hundred feet above Icicle Creek.

So, yeah, it was dramatic, beautiful, awe-inspiring.

Casey loved it up there, just standing on the bridge deck and taking in the natural beauty that surrounded it.

The bridge was popular for many reasons: the view, the drama of the creek running below it, its remote location.

At night, it was one of the darkest places on the peninsula, so it was also great for astral photography.

During last year’s auroras, the Forest Service had been forced to station a ranger up there just to keep too many people from crowding onto the bridge.

Which he entirely blamed on the aforementioned influencer types that he hated.

Those people were why it often felt like there was nowhere sacred, nowhere peaceful and truly quiet anymore.

The area around the bridge was not, as far as Casey understood, a place to strip naked and fuck the bejeezus out of each other in a snow-covered field.

Or to pose stark naked, backlit only by moonlight, pressed up against the railings.

All on video for private subscribers. At least, that’s what one of them had admitted once Casey and Greta caught up with them. After they’d gotten dressed.

“It’s winter and with the snowfall, we figured no one would come up here.”

Some things Casey would never understand.

“Oh, but the stories we have to tell our grandchildren,” Greta said, her evil snicker carrying across their cell connection.

“Not having kids so can’t have grandkids.” He steered around a crater-sized pothole while managing to avoid a tree trunk that leaned perilously over the road.

“Come on, you’d be a great dad, Casey. Speaking of which, when do I get to meet Gabriel?”

The change of subject was uniquely abrupt, but Casey shouldn’t have been shocked by it.

Greta had been building up to this. For some reason, she was dying to meet Charming Fucker and had convinced herself that Casey had finally found someone who would hold his attention for longer than a day or two.

She wasn’t wrong, but not for the right reasons.

“Er, Gabriel?” He still tripped over his new neighbor’s name. “We haven’t done anything, we aren’t… anything. He irritates me, full stop. Why are you talking children when what I really want to do is drop him in the bay?”

Unbidden, the fire from the night before drifted into his thoughts.

Gabriel’s panicked pounding on the side of the sailboat waking Casey up from an R-rated dream.

Then finding the subject of his dream with the stupid cat wrapped up in a blanket and clutched to his chest, two boats in flames behind him.

Recalling the scene made Casey’s heart shudder and skip several beats.

But that would’ve happened to anyone. Right?

Fire was scary and when you lived on a boat, it was terrifying.

“What is that Shakespeare quote?” Greta teased. “The grumpy man doth protest too much? You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it . With him. And by it, I mean it , it.”

He was certain she was making a lewd gesture with one hand. Why was he allowing this ridiculous conversation to continue? Because this was Greta, his closest, oldest friend. And because of that status he let her get away with shit no one else did. Hell, no one else would even try.

Except for Charming Fucker , a little voice murmured.

Goddammit. No.

“For Christ’s sake, why would I think about Karne that way?

He’s a drifter and a con man. I’ve already told you he infuriates me daily, hourly even.

Did I remember to tell you that not only did he name that stray cat Keith, but it’s a girl cat?

The cat clearly has no survival instincts because when she finally decided to come in out of the rain, she chose him!

Of all the people, she chose him.” He shook his head, disgusted.

After feeding Keith half the summer, she chose Charming. “And besides, I don’t need anyone.”

Greta ignored his protest and focused on the cat instead.

“Apparently Keith has recognized the good in your guy. And I think Keith is a great name.”

Gabe was not his guy, but Casey didn’t bother to correct her. When she got going like this, nothing would stop her. He just had to let her run out of steam or find a subject that was not Gabriel Karne and distract her with it.

“Greta, you’ve never met the man. When you do, you’re going to hate him.”

“I don’t think I’m going to hate him. I think I already love him. Big Guy, Elton has accepted him. I’m not saying run off to Costa Rica together, I’m saying maybe see if there’s something to explore, maybe you’ll be surprised. And I didn’t say you needed someone, I said you’re protesting too much.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised we’re having this conversa—what the fuck?”

Something just down the road caught his attention, something that, if it was what he thought it was, would distract Greta from this awful conversation. She wasn’t going to like it; Casey already didn’t like it.

“What? What’s going on?” she demanded.

Greta had taken an alternate route, one that led toward Westfort instead of through The Valley.

She’d drawn the short stick and had to drive all the way into town and help Tor fill out the damned paperwork.

The idiots had wisely chosen to ride with Tor, likely to avoid the rest of the lecture Greta was spoiling to give them.

“I dunno for sure. I’m going to hang up and call you back in a few.”

“Casey, don’t you dare!”

He peered into the dark past the truck’s headlights, trying to parse out what he was almost sure he was seeing. Something that was unwelcome. Maybe, if he was lucky, it wouldn’t be what he suspected, and he’d be able to continue on his merry way.

Luck rarely took Casey’s side.

The glow intensified.

Dammit, it was midafternoon and only a month out from winter solstice, but it was close to dark in the east-facing valley.

Even the creeping shadows had withdrawn into the surrounding forest. Or maybe it was that they’d swallowed it.

Casey found that it was easy to get fanciful about the forest. With no streetlights and only a few outside lights, it was fucking dark.

Except for that flicker every human was wary of.

“If you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, call the cavalry,” he told Greta. “I’m about a half mile northeast of Gordon MacDonald’s place and I’m seeing what looks like fire.”

There were few structures on the north side of this fire road, not as high up The Valley as he was now.

The only place he could imagine it being was Gordon’s.

If it hadn’t been so damn dark, he might have spotted smoke first instead of the glow of flames, not that he would’ve been able to respond any faster.

Thankfully, Gordon was on the mend and currently visiting some car-buddy friends in Skagit.

If it was his place, he was going to be devastated.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. You know what? Put the call in for the water trucks anyway, and if it’s nothing, I’ll take the heat, ha, ha.”

“I’m on it. Stay safe and call me back as soon as you can.”

Casey knew the way down The Valley like the back of his hand, so even with the deepening dark, he hadn’t been concerned about the drive home. A possible fire was not what he’d been anticipating this time of year, but at least the snow and rain had stopped for the time being.

Tapping the brakes, Casey eased the truck down a steep incline. The glow he’d seen disappeared, but only because the road curved to the south before again heading east and angling north. As soon as he was around the corner, he saw the blaze again.

“One damn switchback after another,” Casey grumbled, downshifting to take yet another corner.

When he rounded the last curve before Gordon’s place, the glow increased in intensity. Casey was certain that he was seeing an active fire. Which, considering just how wet everything was with the recent snow and rain, was remarkable.

“Arson, has to be,” he muttered, wishing Greta was there and not miles away on a different road heading in a different direction.