Hidden Summit

food. See you in about a month.”
    “We’ll be here,” Jack said.
    Walt left, and it was only a moment before the loud rumble of the cycle filled the afternoon.
    “Okay, that was a little weird,” Jack said. “Your last name is Danson.”
    “Yeah. Right at the last minute I didn’t feel like giving him my name.” Conner shrugged. “He looked a little, I don’t know, like a Hell’s Angel or something.”
    “Yeah, he looks that way but I didn’t get a bad vibe off the guy. He’s got a job, he loved Preacher’s bouillabaisse, in fact, he was a nice guy for a big, hairy, tattooed biker. But then, I’ve gotten used to all kinds of strange characters up in these mountains.”
    “Did I offend you?” Conner asked.
    “Well, no. But that was a little weird. That you would be skittish like that. You got me and Preacher if you get scared.” And after saying that, Jack grinned.
    Conner slapped a hand against his chest. “Oh, man, I forgot about that. Next time I’ll remember and offer the strange dude my phone and social security numbers.”
    “Wiseass. You in here for a reason?”
    “A beer, if it’s not too much trouble. You want ID?”
    Jack served him up a beer. “You and Leslie going out to Dan and Cheryl’s this weekend for their housewarming?”
    “Absolutely. I was wondering, what do you think I should give them as a gift? Do you think they’d like some good wine?”
    Jack grinned. “Nah,” he said. “Dan has an occasional beer and as far as I know, Cheryl doesn’t drink alcohol.” The door to the bar opened, and the first of the dinner crowd ambled in. “Something for the house. Or something nonalcoholic. Hey, folks,” Jack greeted the newcomers. He moved away from Conner.
    Conner drove down the mountain in search of bars for his phone for two purposes—to call Katie and the boys and to call Brie.
    “Hey, Brie, Conner here. This is probably nothing, but I ran into a biker at the bar—big, kind of scary-looking guy from Sacramento. He said he was scouting out the area for a road trip. I got his business card—he works for Harley-Davidson. He asked my name and I fudged it a little bit.”
    “Did you get the impression he was looking for you or something?” Brie asked.
    “Not really. But it seemed an interesting coincidence. Can you check him out, make sure he’s not a hit man or something?”
    “Finding out who he is won’t be the same as finding out if he’s a hit man, Conner. Hit men usually have a nice, legitimate cover.”
    “Jack liked him,” Conner said.
    She laughed. “Jack likes most people. What’s his name?”
    “Walt Arneson. And here’s the address and phone number.” He read it off the business card. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Oh, and before I forget, I explained things to Leslie. And I told her you were my contact in case she gets worried or needs to talk to a woman.”
    “How’d she take it?”
    “I’m a lucky guy,” he said. “She was everything I expected. Supportive and understanding, if a little shocked out of her mind.”
    “Then don’t let her get away,” Brie said. “I’ll call Max with this name. He has detectives assigned to the prosecutor’s office.”
    “Appreciate it,” he said. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
    “Of course. And, Conner? I’d like to tell you this over the phone so I don’t have to look you in the eye. I read that letter from your ex-wife, laborious though it was. I wasn’t nosy, I had to be sure she didn’t reference something we should know—like if she learned you were the only witness of the crime or something like that. Many things are easy to assume—it was your store, there was a threat from an unknown source, the police were called immediately, et cetera—”
    “Brie, I don’t care that you read it,” he said. “I gave you permission anyway.”
    “I thought you should know something. What you do with it is entirely up to you, but you should know. She knew she was sick, Conner. When she met you and married you, she thought she could tame her wild compulsions by being hooked up to you, and she has regrets about that, about the position she put you in. She didn’t suddenly learn she was a sex addict when you caught her with another man. She thought you were the kind of man who could ground her, slow her down, keep her happy, so to speak. That was before she knew very much about her disease.”
    “Disease,” he said in a grumble.
    “Did you know that? That she married you with that