Hidden Summit

sitting surveillance on his empty house a couple of days before the trial, but he used caution. Conner wanted to look around the property and pick up a couple of things. He was cautious and observant.
    His folks had bought this house the year he was born—thirty-five years ago. It had been a small three-bedroom on a large lot—the size of the lot remained a value to this day. When Katie came along, his dad had remodeled and built an addition, doubling the size of the kitchen and living room, adding a bedroom and bathroom. It was a process that Conner barely remembered but his dad had reminded him frequently that it had taken about three years to complete since he’d done it mostly alone.
    After their parents had died, Katie lived there with him until she got married. Then she came back to live with him in that house again when Charlie deployed. When Charlie was killed, Katie stayed with him, like it was a foregone conclusion.
    Eventually, she’d found a small three-bedroom not that far from Conner and together they’d bought it. It was in both their names. And even though Conner had been somewhat relieved not to be awakened in the night by a teething baby, he had been very lonely when she left. He’d been happy for her—she’d seemed to be getting on with life. But it had been a little too quiet.
    Now she would be three thousand miles away. That was going to be a real adjustment, even with Leslie.
    He looked around the house he had lived in for thirty-five years. Given his business, he’d been good about keeping things updated—like cabinetry, paint, woodwork, fixtures, et cetera. But the furniture? It should be given away. It was old and worn. Even the mattress had belonged to his parents, and he wasn’t sure how outdated it was. The TV was a large-screen, but not high-definition or flat-screen or anything that had been marketed in the past ten years.
    Samantha had wanted to renovate the house, but he’d told her to go to work on Katie’s house; that house had needed it more, and he wasn’t ready to make any big changes in his. He probably should have let her—it seemed so old and shabby now.
    There were two things he wanted to take from the house. His desktop computer with portable backup hard drive and his guns. He was making do fine with his laptop, but he should have the computer with the larger memory and the store records from the past few years. Of course, the store computer had been destroyed in the fire.
    In his gun safe he kept a rifle and two handguns. He unloaded the guns, stowed the bullets and put them in a duffel, wrapped up in a winter parka. Then he placed the computer and duffel in the backseat of the extended cab. He covered the computer with a tarp he found in the garage. Even though the guns had been secure in the safe at the house—with a gun safe so heavy and hard to move, it would take a very determined thief to steal it—he had already decided he wanted them with him in the hotel. Not because he was necessarily worried about anything, but because why wouldn’t a man whose life had been threatened make an effort to defend himself?
    Then he drove a few blocks away and called Katie.
    “I’m sitting in front of your house,” he said. “I talked to the D.A. about helping us just move this property under my new name and he said it wouldn’t be a problem. So I went through the old house. Katie, has the furniture always been that terrible?”
    She laughed. “I agree, it’s seen better days, but it was still functional. Nothing was torn or sagging. There were scratches on tables—we call that ‘distressed.’”
    “It’s all very distressed,” he said.
    “Why are you sitting in front of my house?” she asked.
    “I wondered if there was anything you missed when you left that you want me to grab, to keep out of storage?”
    “I got the important things—Charlie’s pictures and medals. My wedding pictures and the baby pictures. I packed a few boxes like the place might be burned down…”
    “Aw, Katie, what a lot I’ve put you through....”
    “Stop! I came home to you with two babies and you’ve always taken such good care of us.”
    “It’s going to be hard to take good care of you when you’re in Vermont and I’m in California,” he said.
    “Maybe it’s time I learned to take care of myself, Conner. It’s strange—I’m finally knowing the new you. I think maybe you’ve grown into the name.”
    “As much as I resisted the change, it’s what I want