for the Reserve. It wasn’t a mug shot, but it could almost pass as one. What made no sense was why it was there. Ash quickly scanned the content of the article around his photo. The only reference to him was completely true. He was the ranger in charge of the Otter Lake area. So what?
The project had enjoyed almost zero support on the ground here at the Reserve. Even without data and traffic projections, the effect on the habitat of The Aerie from construction alone had raised so many alarms. His objections were on record in the form of easily requested memos and reports, but it was almost like someone was setting him up to take the blame for this covert maneuver. He’d stated his objections publicly. How dumb would he have to be not to understand everyone would focus on him if he’d actually decided to leak the report? Even Ash could understand why he’d be the primary suspect.
If he never objected, everyone would assume he was the anonymous source who’d leaked the report to the governor. He checked for the journalist’s name on the story and turned to the computer to find a phone number.
Then he flipped to the next paper. Nothing. The story didn’t make the cut. “Finally. Some luck.”
When he reviewed his search results for the reporter’s contact info, Ash clicked the website link for the article and another photo of himself loaded. This time he was leaving the district office. “And I look like fifty miles of bad road.”
His uniform was wrinkled. His hat was missing. And his hair clearly exceeded the Reserve’s standards. Besides that, it might as well have been combed with a weed whacker.
Ash closed his eyes, but he could still see his own mess. “Why hasn’t the chief ranger called to rain his displeasure down? He told me to lay low and I did, but I’m still all over the front page and looking as if I slept in my uniform.” Silence from Knoxville’s district office was not a good sign.
“He called. I took a message.” Macy slowly reached over to pick up the Sweetwater paper. “You okay, boss?”
“I can tell things are serious when you call me ‘boss.’ Do I look that fragile?” Ash asked as he scrubbed his hand through his hair. From most of his staff, “boss” was an endearment. She meant it that way, too, but he preferred his name on her lips.
He didn’t really want anything putting more space between them, but the reminder of who they were, boss and important right hand, might be a gift.
When he realized he was still wearing the reading glasses, he yanked them off and tossed them in a desk drawer. He couldn’t do anything about the gray hair spreading at his temple.
“That’s what happened to your hair before they took the picture.” Macy leaned closer, the scent of magnolia and soap an easy reminder of better times. “And you don’t have to hide the glasses. They make you look...distinguished.”
“Another word for old. Distinguished.” Almost a decade older than Macy. The word twisted on his tongue. “Fits me today. These last few days have aged me at least ten years.”
“Anything I can do?” Macy asked brightly. He liked her energy, but today, she was too young, too healthy and strong. Compared to her, he felt brittle. Too little sleep. Too much time cooped up inside his small cabin with his own thoughts. A combination that was bad for him.
Ash braced his elbows on the desk and considered asking her advice on what to do to clear his name. Unless he convinced the Callaways and the chief ranger he’d had nothing to do with leaking that report, his job might be gone. His plan had made sense: get numbers, the data to show the impact of the construction and operation of the new lodge in black and white. Take the emotion out of the equation, all his family’s history. That had been his only goal. The Callaways had set aside this land and hired him to do the job of preserving. Ash had only been doing what he’d been asked to do, to request the study on the environmental impact.
But unless someone else came forward, who would believe his claims of innocence?
Macy might be able to figure out how to spin this story, so everything turned out the way it was supposed to. She did that daily with small problems. Could she help with this one?
“Don’t know what I’d do without you manning your post, Macy.” He’d meant it as nothing but a compliment. The way her face fell made him think he’d missed the mark, but she immediately straightened her shoulders and nodded. “I’ll be just outside if you need me.”
She disappeared a second before he blurted out something he would regret. What could he say?
I missed you.
A few other things came to mind, but that was what he wanted to say. Instead, he buried his head in the reports on his desk.
Visitation numbers were down.
Spending was flat.
Revenue coming in from the education programs and even what had been reported from the campground and marina...all lower than normal, even for December.
Dutifully, he scribbled his name, but it was difficult to continue. After hours of spreadsheets and incident reports filed by the law enforcement rangers over the weekend and So. Many. Emails. Ash leaned back in his chair and stared up at the water spot on the ceiling.
Primer and paint would fix that.
Did they have the budget? He covered his eyes, so weary.
“I’m off to grab some lunch. Want me to lock the front door?” Macy stood in the doorway, half in, half out. Her hesitation was unusual.
“We’re open regular hours today. I’ll cover the phones and the front.” And count the minutes until she got back.
“Should I send Brett for backup?” Macy asked.
Ash waved her off. “You’ve been stuck here all week. Get out. The paperwork fairy will leave you a gift on your desk.”
Instead of laughing or glaring or lecturing or any other Macy thing, she just...left. Silently.
At this point, he had a few choices to make.
He should call his sister. Winter was pretty close to the center of this mess as well and she had as much, if not more, to lose.
Would her engagement survive the storm? Would she blame Ash if Whit Callaway called off the wedding? This lodge was the Callaway family’s current cause, an expansion on the Reserve after five generations of conservation.
It would make them a lot of money.
Politicians always required a lot of money.
Another suspect might be all he needed to settle the Callaway family down. All he had to do was think.
The water spot resembled a standard poodle. Further study turned up no other ideas for the report’s leaker.
“Well, there’s me.” Frustrated that he was the only logical suspect, Ash folded the newspapers and tossed them into the trash can. He heard an imaginary Macy bark “Recycle!” in his ear so he pulled them out and dropped them on top of the leaning pile behind his chair. “Since I know I didn’t leak this report, there has to be someone else.”
Fatigued, yet ready for a project he could complete quickly, Ash picked up his glasses and settled in to read Macy’s outline of events for the coming open house. Not because he was concerned she’d forgotten anything, but just because it was nice to live in her organized world. “I should have asked for pie.”
GETTING OUT OF the visitor center had seemed like a good idea until Macy had to decide where to go. Most days, she spent her lunch hour at her desk. The only difference between a lunch hour and a regular hour was the addition of a turkey sandwich and the fruit of the day.
After three days cooped up and Ash’s return—which should have made everything right, but instead filled the