Page 26 of Shephard

If I was asked questions, I wasn’t certain how I’d handle it.

After climbing out, I took a deep breath. Today wasn’t a great day, but there was nothing I could do.

As I headed for the main entrance, it was impossible not to notice the huge volume of vehicles in the parking lot. I was curious as to the number of paying guests as opposed to those here for a day of kayaking and swimming, hiking and mountain climbing. My guess was the guests could be unruly.

Not something I was good at handling. I was a rough man all the way around.

As I walked in, I was struck by the good feeling the atmosphere provided. Maybe I didn’t know what I was talkingabout, but the cathedral ceiling and expansive windows allowed for extensive lighting, dark foliage and comfortable-looking furniture providing a welcoming atmosphere.

My father had some clue of what he was doing in running the resort. Or he’d paid an expert to provide him with ideas.

Either way, at least I didn’t feel as if I was walking into a money losing project.

As soon as I’d made it close to the reservation desk, my initial stop, reporters came out of nowhere.

“Mr. Fox. Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Mr. Fox. Why did your father really give up the resort?”

Fuck. The questions were coming from all directions.

Over the years anonymity was something I’d considered a weapon. I’d all but disappeared when I’d become a mercenary, my past protected by the organization who’d hired me. Even my fingerprints and social security number were considered classified. They still were even after leaving the group.

The cloak of darkness had kept me alive more than once.

It was the last question that pulled me into a violent moment. Maybe I’d regret it later.

Maybe I wouldn’t.

“Mr. Fox. Isn’t it true there are some repulsive criminals looking to hunt down your father, a man who used to work with them?” He’d kept his voice down, as if offering me the grace of asking me the question prior to announcing it to the world.

“What did you say?”

“Is your father in hiding?”

I turned slightly, narrowing my eyes. What the fuck was the guy getting at?

As several reporters advanced like vultures, sticking microphones in my face as they called out not only questions but my legal name, I reacted.

Or some would say I overreacted.

The poor, dumb asshole who was the most aggressive was the recipient of my initial fury and aggression.

I punched him in the face.

Denise

Dead bodies had never fazed me in the least. I’d seen more than I could remember.

But there was something extremely morbid about being inside a morgue. Typically, a movie or television show depicted certain locations, including squad rooms of police departments, as dull and dingy places where no one would want to work.

It was true, at least about the older building housing the morgue and three different offices in this case. However, on the floor above was a nature sanctuary, which struck me in a strange way.

I’d been in the facility on one other occasion and for the very same reason. A dead body. She’d argued with me upon our firstmeeting, insisting the victim had been mauled by a bear. I’d fought her final report, but to no avail.

Then she’d called me afterwards, expressing her very tight-lipped concern. Without providing detail, I’d followed the dots. She’d been coerced into her findings.

That had been a reminder that even the law could be manipulated.