Chapter 5

C hapter F ive

This truly was a small town. Michael pulled his attention back to Mr. Eriksen and the work he needed. "How soon are you hoping to do this?" he asked, half watching Thorsen as he went inside. "We have a number of big jobs, and this should take a few days. If you're willing to wait a little, I can probably work you in when I have gap. That way you help keep my men busy, and I can give you a better price." He had promised his old friend Brian to do what he could to help.

"That would be great. Being on a fixed income sucks, and it takes all I have to keep this place up."

Michael could only imagine the property taxes on the house. Even if he didn't have a mortgage, the taxes alone had to run through much of Mr. Eriksen's income. "We can help you," Michael said, and recapped the work Mr. Eriksen wanted done. "Let me get you an estimate in the next few days, and we'll go from there." He was already figuring out how he could get the supplies at a lower cost. Often there were things left over from various jobs, and Michael had been diligent about gathering them up and setting them aside for future use. He knew he had a number of the things that would be needed already available, so it was just going to be the labor cost. Michael made a few notes for himself regarding the supplies and the hours he thought would be required and how he could give him a break.

"That would be great," Mr. Eriksen said as he slowly walked toward the front door. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

"I need to make a call first." His gaze followed to where Thorsen had gone, and he was curious as hell about him, so the offer of a drink was appreciated.

"I'll see you inside, then." He went around to the walk, and Michael called in to the office, letting them know where he was. He also called out to the job site and got a report on the work and how it was progressing. Unless there was an issue, his men knew what to do and what was expected. Once he was sure things were under control, he knocked on the door, and Angie let him inside.

"They're in the dining room staring at each other across the table," she said softly.

"I didn't realize Thorsen was your brother." Their paths had crossed a number of times because of Brian.

"He changed his last name, which my father will never forgive him for, and my father has done things, because he can be a self-entitled asshole. Thor won't forgive him for those, so the two of them glare at one another." She snickered. "What neither of them understands is that they're so much alike, it's ridiculous." Angie rubbed her belly. "If this kid doesn't stop kicking me, I swear…."

"Brian said you were due in August," Michael said, getting the feeling that there was more to the story than Angie was saying. Or maybe she simply didn't know what was really at the heart of the matter. Two stubborn mules might fight with each other, but this seemed even deeper than that to him. Thor, he liked the shortened version, didn't just want to stay away from his father; he'd changed his last name and gone away for years. That wasn't a disagreement, but something that went to their identities and how they saw themselves.

"Yeah." She took his hand, pacing it on her belly. "Feel that?" Michael nodded. "That's the baby. There are times when I wish he'd settle down, and then every time he moves, I know he's there and that I'm just waiting on him. Though two more months of this is going to drive me around the bend. All I do is eat, burp, fart, and get kicked from the inside out." Michael knew she was teasing. "Let's go in and stop them from killing each other."

She led the way, and sure enough, Thor and Mr. Eriksen sat across from each other, both with a mug of coffee that they weren't drinking. Not that his relationship with his father was much better than Thor's, but this was strange.

"Knock it off, both of you. Dad, you complained that Thor was in town, but didn't see you, and you act like this when he does come to see you."

"He only came because you made him."

Angie shook her head. "Do you really think I can make Thor do anything? How long have you known the stubborn ass, you belligerent old mule?" She managed to sit down, and Thor got up and brought her a glass of water.

"I think I'm going to go," Thor announced and headed for the door. Angie started to get up, but only ended up groaning as she got to her feet. By the time she was on the move, the front door had closed behind him, and Angie had little chance of catching up.

"See, what good did that do?" Mr. Eriksen asked.

Angie whirled on him like dervish. "What do you expect? Him to fall into line and kiss the ring like you're the pope? That isn't how this works, and you damned well know it."

"He could have just…," he began.

"What? Given you whatever you wanted? If you go down that road like you have before, I'm going to leave, and I have a husband and a life that you don't need to be part of either." Man, he made a note never to get on Angie's bad side. "When will you understand that you don't have the right to impose what you want on someone else? In this case, you won't get what you want because you have no right to it. Thor's future is his to decide, not yours. And for that matter, so is mine." She walked off in a huff, and Michael figured it was time for him to go.

"Mr. Eriksen, I'll call you with the estimate and get the work scheduled," Michael said before leaving the small house. He passed Angie out in the yard, fuming silently.

"I'm sorry about that."

Michael nodded his understanding and returned to his truck. "I'll take care of things for your dad," he told her after lowering the window.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that."

Michael nodded and was about to raise the window, but paused. "It's none of my business. But I think your father… he's lost, in a way. The world is moving fast, and he's holding on to the way he's always done things. And maybe he's trying to hold on to you and Thor, but he's doing it too tightly?"

Angie shrugged. "That's possible, but Thor can't stop living his life just because our father refuses to live in the present."

Michael nodded. "I get it." And he did. He raised the window and pulled away from the house, heading out to the job on Carson Hill.

His father wasn't home when he arrived, and for that Michael was grateful. The job was a little ahead of schedule, and Michael made sure the office had all the invoices so Hansen could get paid on time.

"Where's Peter?" his mother asked when he found her in the sunroom, knitting and watching the fog as it rolled in over the coast.

"I haven't seen him," Michael said, sitting across from her. She sighed, her needles never stopping. "Why? I know he's probably busy." He was supposedly setting up his business, but the hours he seemed to keep didn't correspond with any type of business that Michael understood. "Has he said where he was going?"

"Just that he had some meetings… or something." She was clearly concerned, and Michael pulled out his phone, sending Peter a quick message asking him to get in touch with Mom because she was worried about him. She lowered her knitting into her lap, meeting Michael's gaze. "I just get the feeling that something isn't right."

Michael leaned forward. "Like what, Mom? What has you so worried?"

"I'm probably being stupid, but I heard him on the phone this morning. He was really agitated, saying that everything was fine and that there was nothing to worry about. That he'd take care of it and that he'd arrange to get it back. Peter sounded frightened, and when he saw me, he smiled and that was when he said he had a meeting he needed to get to." She leaned closer. "I keep wondering exactly what kind of business he's involved with. He keeps such strange hours, and he gets phone calls late at night."

"Have you talked to Dad about it?" Michael asked. The only person Peter ever listened to was their father, and if Mother or he were to broach the subject, they'd get shut out.

"I tried, but he just says that starting a business isn't a nine-to-five job and that I'm probably imagining things." She picked up her knitting again as Rosa came in with a tray of iced tea. She set it down and was about to leave, but Mother stopped her. "Sit down, please," she told Rosa.

Rosa perched herself on the edge of one of the other chairs, like she was expecting a ticking off and wanted to make a hasty retreat. Mother set her knitting aside and poured glasses of tea, handing one to each of them.

"What is it I can help you with?" Rosa asked, sending a questioning glance in Michael's direction.

"Mom is worried about Peter," Michael told her.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about him." She held her glass, the ice tinkling slightly. "His comings and goings are none of my business, and…." She appeared scared.

"Mom. It isn't fair to ask Rosa to spy for you." She had been with them for years. "It's putting her in an awkward position. We expect her to be discreet about what goes on in this house, and if that's so, then we need to do the same." He sipped from his glass and refused to make a face. He never really liked tea the way his mother did, as sweet as possible. Still, he drank some of it.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Rosa. I should never have asked you."

Rosa got up to leave.

"Oh, please sit down for a few minutes and have some tea. Keep me company."

She nodded, and Michael set his glass on the tray and left the room. His mother was correct. Something wasn't right, but he didn't want to worry her. There was one way to find out what was going on.

Michael headed upstairs and down to Peter's suite, pushing open the door. The bed was unmade and the chair covered with clothes. It looked like the room might have been ransacked, except the furniture was all in place, but nothing else was. It was good to see that some things never changed, and his brother was as big a slob as ever. Michael stepped over the clothes and went to the desk against the wall, the surface covered in papers to the point that the wooden top had been completely obscured. He picked up a few and set them back down, shaking his head. If his brother was up to something, it would take forever to go through this jumbled mess to find anything of use. Still, he glanced at what lay on top, hoping that related to what his brother might be most concerned with now.

Most of the papers were phone bills and crap like that. Months of them were piled all over the place. He picked up one, the top indicating a number he wasn't familiar with. Did Peter have a secret phone? He made a note of the number in his phone, then shoved it back in his pocket. A creak from downstairs made him jump, and Michael wondered what the hell he was doing. Peter was his brother, and yeah, there was definitely some resentment there because of how his father favored him, but was this right? He hated spying and turned to set the bill back in place and paused.

He pulled out his phone once more and took a photo of the document. It pertained to a boat, and the one in Noyo harbor flashed in his mind. It was probably not related at all, since the size of the one in the document clearly indicated that it was larger than the one in the harbor. He put the phone bill back and guiltily left the room, closing the door before going to his own. Inside, he looked at the picture once again and thought of just deleting it. Michael knew he shouldn't let his father's feelings influence him.

"Mom, I'm fine. I had a meeting in the city, and a friend flew me down in his Cessna," Peter was saying as he headed for the stairs. Michael shoved his phone into his pocket as Peter passed his door.

"What's going on?" Peter asked without pausing for an answer. He seemed happy and damned chipper. Whatever issue there had been, it seemed to have been resolved—and to Peter's satisfaction. Michael closed the door, undressed, and showered before going down to join his mother before dinner, trying to put all this out of his mind. To his surprise, he succeeded, but only by letting his mind wander to Thor and his seemingly never-ending curiosity about the man.

The boat is gone.

The text came in a little after ten, and Michael read it a second time before he understood what Thor was talking about.

Did Wally get paid? Michael sent back and waited for an answer.

Don't know. I was down at the harbor at the bar, hoping a certain local architect would make an appearance, and when I came out, it was no longer tied up.

Michael wondered what he could do about it as his phone rang.

"One of the guys in the bar said that it was loaded onto a trailer and hauled out about an hour ago," Thor said without preamble.

"Then it could be anywhere by now." Including well out of the area. He made a note to contact Wally in the morning.

"Yeah. But I found out something interesting, and I promised I'd keep you in the loop."

Michael hummed. "So you're saying that I'm thirsty, and I might need a drink?"

"I was thinking somewhere less public," Thor said. "Like maybe a walk at the cliffs."

Michael groaned. "Too dangerous. There is no light at all tonight, and it's too easy to step in a hole or get too close to the edge. Out there, it's dark as anything. And if we're in town and seen, then we can't be up to anything… if you know what I mean."

"Okay. Come to where we met before. I'll get a table." Thor ended the call, and Michael grabbed his keys and headed out, passing his mother and letting her know he was going to town to meet a friend.

"I'm glad you made it," Thor said as Michael strode into the bar. Thankfully, the place wasn't busy, and he was able to sit down without seeing people he knew.

"What did you find?" he asked quickly. "You said that the boat was gone."

"Yes. I ran the registration numbers, and it belongs to a company out of San Francisco, North Shore Holdings. They own two more boats and are owned by another company, West Coast Excursions International, which owns other companies, and since all of them are privately held, we ran into a brick wall regarding who owns them."

"I see."

Thor nodded. "The boat wasn't listed as stolen, and this evening, someone loaded it onto a trailer, and it was carted away, most likely someone sent by the company that owns it." He smiled and showed Michael an image. "There is a camera outside that end of the harbor, so I was able to get a plate from the trailer. It's registered to the same shell company as the boat." He seemed frustrated.

"Okay. So you didn't get very far. I'm not really sure how I can help."

Thor shifted the image on the phone. "Do you happen to know this man? He's the one who loaded the boat onto the trailer."

Michael peered closer at the image. "I do." He felt a chill run up his spine as the ramifications of what he was seeing sank in. "He works for my father. His name is Hank Robards, and he isn't on my crew because I wouldn't have him. He isn't someone I trust. I caught him doing something under suspicious circumstances, and my father didn't believe me, but I refused to work with him. He's under one of the other supervisors."

Thor remained quiet as one of the servers came to the table. She took their order and hurried back to the bar. "I hate to ask, and I know I'm taking a real risk here, but…." He seemed to pale even in the dim lighting.

"Could my father be behind this?" Michael asked. "I don't want to think he could. My father is many things… a major pain in the ass and a self-serving dick are definitely two of them. I know he's skirted the edge of the law a few times, but I refuse to believe that my father would be involved in something that would rip away everything he's built. There's no way. Dad used to… fly closer to the line. I remember him and Mom arguing about it. But as he's gotten older, he's been a lot more interested in protecting his reputation and all that." As much as he and his father didn't get along, he would never suspect his father of running drugs. "My father was one of the people all up in arms when they legalized pot because he thought it was going to be the end of civilization as we know it. And legal or not, he has fired more than one person for drinking, smoking, or using pot while on the job. Hell, Dad still drug tests, and you fail, you're out—and he still considers pot a drug. It's written in every employment agreement that all our people sign."

Thor nodded slowly, his eyes widening. "Then maybe it's one of your people. Can you give me a list of Hank's friends, folks he's close to? Either Hank is directly involved in this, or someone he knows asked him to pick up the boat, and he's being used as a mule."

That was possible. It wasn't as though Hank was particularly bright, and he was a guy who seemed anxious to please his friends, so he'd be an easy mark and would have no idea he had picked up a possible drug boat. "Sure… got a pen?"