We drove fast through the snow, leaving one danger behind and heading straight toward another. Somewhere up ahead, beyond the switchbacks and whiteout, my empty old house was waiting.
“Turn this truck around,” Mike said suddenly, hitting the brakes hard. “Right now.”
“No,” I said. “I’m going.”
“They just tried to poison you,” he snapped. “You think the courier mixed up the packages?”
He drove with both hands locked on the wheel, knuckles pale. I could see the anger working in his jaw even though he kept his eyes on the road.
We rode in silence for ten minutes before he spoke again.
“I still can’t believe Dennis would do this,” I said. “I raised that boy.”
“You raised him, sure,” Mike said bitterly. “But he grew up. People change, Andy. Especially when there’s serious money on the table. What’s that claim really worth? Fifty million? A hundred?”
“I never put a number on it,” I admitted.
“I’ll bet he did,” Mike said. “And I’ll bet he figured it was cheaper to bury the owner than buy him out honestly.”
That cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I turned toward the window. Snow was falling harder now, thick flakes swallowing the road ahead.
Thunder lay quietly in the back seat with his big head on his paws, but he never took his eyes off me in the mirror.
Then my phone buzzed again.
“Don’t answer,” Mike muttered.
I answered anyway.
“Mr. Anderson, where are you?” Dennis asked, sounding worried. “I’ve been waiting almost twenty minutes. You said you’d be here by two.”
I checked my watch. It was already 2:30. We really were late.
“We’re on our way,” I said. “Got delayed.”
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “You’re okay?”
I couldn’t tell anymore whether I was hearing concern or mockery. “We’re fine,” I said. “We’ll be there soon.”
“I was worried with this weather,” he said. “If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known what to think.”
I was about to hang up when he added, “And did you like my gift? Did you get to try the cognac?”
At that exact moment Thunder sprang up from the back seat. He planted his front paws on the back of my seat and began whining sharply, scratching at the upholstery with his claws.
“What’s that noise?” Dennis asked at once. “What’s going on there?”
“Just my old wolf getting worked up,” I said, and ended the call.
The second Dennis’s voice disappeared, Thunder stopped whining and dropped into a deep, dangerous growl. The fur along his back stood straight up. He clawed at the door panel as if he wanted out—wanted to run into the woods and away from wherever we were headed…
