“Yeah.”
“Any idea by who?”
“Nope. My dog took off into the woods and after about an hour or less, I came across Sully and Keely—the woman with us. She was a passenger, but I haven’t gotten much from her except that apparently someone else on the plane was trying to shoot her.”
“And Sully somehow got in the middle?”
“Let’s just say that, for simplicity.”
“You think the shooter is someone from the plane? The manifest might shed some light.”
Griffin thought like a cop.
“We tried to find it, but the wreckage was scattered everywhere.”
“Mack would have filed something from where he took off.”
“My guess too. Sully had Kennedy get ahold of Moose, told him to take off. The investigation will have to wait. But as for bringing the shooter here ... I don’t know. I hope not. Sorry.”
“Me too.” He took another sip of cocoa. “We can defend ourselves, but I like to avoid trouble.”
“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as the blizzard passes.”
Griffin nodded. “You’re welcome here. I just need to know what might be out there.” He glanced toward the black window panes. Sighed. “The woman looks familiar. Who is she?”
“Keely? Just ... a passenger.”
Griffin stayed silent. Took a breath, then, “You think she knows something about it?”
“Maybe. I want to talk to her, but your wife took her away to doctor her ankle.”
“Yeah, River has some doctor in her. She and I got married a few months ago. She’s from here. I’m not, but I like it.”
“Where’d you meet?”
“River is a Certified Direct-Entry Midwife. She was apprenticing on Kodiak Island when we got together.”
“And you are—”
“Jack-of-all-trades.” He smiled. “Mostly I work with Don, helping him keep this place running. We just finished stocking the barn with firewood for the winter.”
“It’s a big barn.”
“Holds all our animals—a few milk cows, goats, a handful of beef cows we’re raising. Horses. Cats, sheep for our wool—we even have a llama.” He laughed. “I call her Woolly Bully. She’s got issues.”
“I hate drama. Even in a llama.”
“Look at you, a poet.” Griffin raised his mug. “You’ll fit right in.”
Dawson laughed. “I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here.”
“Yeah, apparently for a while, people thought this might be a hippie commune or something. It was started by a few artists who wanted to live off the land. We’re not a cult or some weird commune. Just a bunch of people of faith, trying to raise our families in community. It’s not mandatory, but we do have a service on Sunday. A couple of the men take turns preaching. We have a charter, a sort of government, but everyone is here voluntarily, owns their own home, and pays into a kind of HOA to fund the animals and main buildings.”
“This lodge is huge.”
“We use it for big events, and there are rooms—like a hotel—although they’re assigned to each family in case of emergency.”
“Like a blizzard.”
