Love Inspired March 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Wife for Jacob\The Forest Ranger's Rescue\Alaskan Homecoming (22 page)

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

“I
da, 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?”

“You already know. We're heavily in debt. Over the past eight months, you've spent almost two million dollars on new technology.”

He blinked and licked his dry lips. “Yeah, but our output has doubled. The mill needed to be modernized, Jill. The new equipment has increased our production like crazy.”

“But it's barely enough to cover our bills.”

He grinned. “But we are making it. Things will get better. You'll see. Just give us some more time.”

She didn't have much choice. “I also can't account for five hundred thousand dollars. It's like it just disappeared off the books. Any idea where the money went?”

He shook his head. “I guarantee I didn't pocket it. Although I might have made some purchases and forgotten to turn in the receipts to Ida.”

Forgetting to turn in five hundred thousand dollars' worth of receipts was beyond unusual. She didn't know if Alan had been reckless, careless, or if they had a bigger problem she didn't understand.

Yet. She'd get to the bottom of it.

“Check again. The money's got to be there somewhere in the books,” he said. “And I project the new equipment we bought will pay for itself within three years.”

She tossed a financial report on his desk. “I'm not so sure. Look at the balance sheet. All it would take is a minor catastrophe to slow down our production and ruin us.”

Heaven help them if Brent Knowles discovered evidence that linked Alan to the stolen timber. The ranger could shut down their timber harvest. They had an inventory of logs, but their workers would go through them fast. Without logs to process, they'd be out of business. The final straw to break their backs.

Alan stared blankly at the numbers on the report before pushing the papers aside. Jill knew he didn't get the math. He never had. But he knew trees. Douglas fir, ponderosa pine and larch. He had an inner intuition, understanding the grain and how to saw through a single tree trunk to get the most usable board feet. No one was better at his craft.

“I thought modernizing the mill was the best thing for us to do,” he said.

“It is, but not all at once. Not when we exceed our ability to pay for the new technology.”

“I'm sorry, Jill. I didn't think it would be this bad. I've made some mistakes, but I'm trying to clean them up.” His smile dropped away and he clamped his mouth closed, looking determined and shamed all at once.

She studied him. His uneasy glance. The way he opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something. The furtive looks at the door, as if he wanted to escape. She sensed he was keeping something from her. Something big. And the odd thing about it was that she'd gotten the same vibes from Brent Knowles.

Taking a shallow breath, she met Alan's eyes and sought the truth there. “Al, this is just between you and me. I won't tell a single soul. Not even Mom. But I have to ask once more, and I want the facts. Did you steal that timber to pay the bills?”

“No!” He flew out of his seat and smacked his palms down on the top of the desk so hard that she flinched. His face looked tight and angry, his eyes glaring with outrage. “I told you last night, Jill. I'm not a thief and never agreed to the theft. I wouldn't do it. Dad wouldn't approve. And I would never do anything to shame our father like that.”

The mention of their dad's honor caused tears to burn her eyes. She tilted her head, surprised by Alan's choice of words. Something about his tone spoke volumes. “Do you know who the thief is?”

His gaze slid away and he sat back down. “I told you. I had no part in it. I'd rather sell off the mill honestly than besmirch Dad's reputation by stealing timber. Even if we had to sell, we could do that with integrity. It wouldn't be ideal, but I could live with that.”

Hmm. He hadn't answered her question. Not really. But all that mattered right now was that he'd claimed he was innocent and she trusted him.

She held up a hand. “Okay, I believe you. But I had to ask. At some point, we may need to hire a lawyer from Boise. But if you say you're innocent, then I'll stand beside you all the way, Allie.”

Allie
. The childhood nickname she used for him when they were alone.

She meant what she said. Even if she embarrassed herself in the process, she'd defend him. This was her brother, after all. Her family. If nothing else, she was loyal. She'd been pursuing her own goals for long enough. Now Alan and Mom needed her, and she was determined not to let them down.

Alan's features softened, but his brown eyes showed his anxiety. “Thanks, sis. It's bad enough that Mom suspects me of theft. The past months since Dad died have been pretty rough at home. I don't think I can stand it if you believe I'm guilty, too.”

Again, her conscience gave a tight pinch. “Don't worry about Mom. I'll speak to her.”

Poor Mom. She was still grieving for Dad. They all were.

“Thanks.” He gave a weak smile, looking so much like the young boy she'd grown up with.

“Do you know what's inside there?” She pointed at the black twenty-inch safe sitting in one corner of the room. Before his death, this had been Dad's office. The safe had been here as long as Jill could remember, but she'd only seen inside it once or twice.

Alan shrugged. “Just some old bank records. Dad opened it the day before he died, but I lost the key.”

“And you haven't opened it since Dad died?”

He shrugged. “Nope. I didn't think it was important.”

“Hmm. We should get a locksmith to open it for us. There might be something of value inside.”

“I've been meaning to call someone, but knew it'd cost us a pretty penny to have a locksmith drive into town from Boise,” he said.

No doubt he was right, but it couldn't be helped. “I'll call in the next week or so and ask what it might cost.”

Standing, she went to the door and laid her hand on the knob. She smiled back at him. “I love you, Allie. Don't let these problems eat you up inside. We'll work something out. We just need to figure out what that might be.”

“Yeah, you're right.” He bobbed his head in a quick series of nods.

“I'm gonna head out now. I'll see you back at home later tonight for supper,” she said.

It was time she drove out to Cove Mountain and took a look at the cutblock herself. She needed to know just how bad the theft really was.

“Okay. See you soon.” He waved, looking momentarily like the sweet, naive boy she'd been raised with.

As she stepped into the outer office, she tugged her purse out of the desk drawer where she'd stowed it earlier that morning. A number of possible solutions to their financial woes rumbled through her mind. Solutions that wouldn't involve laying off any workers.

They could sell off some of the new equipment Alan had recently bought, but they wouldn't get full price now. They might be able to refinance their loan, or take out a second mortgage on Mom's house. That meant talking to Larry Cambridge, the bank manager. And Mom would have to sign the papers, which might freak her out in her present state of mind.

Jill took a deep, settling breath. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. Mom's security was important, too. She wouldn't want to move to Boise to live with Jill.

The mill currently specialized in lumber and plywood. Maybe they could diversify into posts and poles. Definitely not ideal, but it might be enough to keep them in the black. They'd figure something out. She just hoped they didn't lose the sawmill in the process.

* * *

Brent flipped on the heater in his truck. The damp May weather didn't bode well for fire season. The heavy rains they'd been having would turn everything to green. Then, as the cheatgrass dried out in June, he could find himself called out on a wildfire. That would mean leaving Evie overnight with Velma Crawford, her sitter. Not an ideal situation, but it couldn't be helped. At least Evie liked Velma and was willing to stay in her home while Brent went to work every day.

Looking across the seat, he smiled at his sweet little daughter sitting serenely in her booster car seat. He'd wanted to take Evie with him up on Cove Mountain, so he'd left his Forest Service truck parked back at his office. Even though he was still working, some people might create a stink if they saw his child riding around with him in a government truck. They didn't understand the long hours a forest ranger worked, so he tried to spend time with his family while he checked the cutblock where Russell Sawmill was harvesting timber.

“You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

Evie didn't smile, but she nodded and gazed out the window as zillions of vibrant green ponderosa pine flashed past their view. A cloud of dust billowed up behind them on the narrow dirt road as they circled the mountain.

He downshifted as they climbed in elevation. Thick forests of Douglas fir, western hemlock and ponderosa pine pierced the azure sky like elegant dancers. A logger's paradise. You sure couldn't get views like this living in a city.