kept in Bennetson's good graces." He chugged back a long swallow and smacked his lips when he was done. Rosas was part of the regular 91
construction crew. Had been for the past three years. "I never woulda guessed the guy would have taken her like that."
It had taken Carl nearly an hour to finally make it over to the clinic to have his hand x-rayed. The prognosis wasn't good. The bones weren't just broken; they had been crushed to the point where two doctors examining the slides were doubtful he would ever have the use of that hand again. Still, they had tried to reset it as best they could since Carl refused surgery. The cast would have to stay on for a full six weeks.
After that they would x-ray it again, but there was no telling where they would go from there.
In the meantime, he had refused to file any kind of charges. He had a lot of reasons for not doing so. The biggest one being that if the sheriff did manage somehow to find Hannah, she would tell him about how seriously he'd beaten her up. With a domestic violence charge already on his record, this incident would violate his probation.
Secondly, he wanted a clear shot at Mr. Jeb Morr. If the authorities got to the man before he did, Carl would probably never get the chance to thank Mr. Morr properly for running off with his woman.
Still, his reasons didn't stop him from spreading the news that Hannah had ditched him for the ex-construction worker.
In addition, he put out the word that if anyone had an idea where they might have headed, he would be mighty appreciative if they'd let him know.
It never occurred to Carl Jamison that the majority of the townsfolk were reluctant to help him in any form or fashion.
Hannah was a sweet girl, and hard working. She had never 92
been one to complain. In the short time the couple had been living in Laughlin, gossip had quickly spread how the man used the young woman as his personal punching bag. The man may have been a native Laughlinite, but most of them abhorred his viciousness.
They would tolerate him, and that was all. If Hannah had run off with another man, God bless her. Jamison deserved it.
So let the guy fend for himself.
"You still looking for some word about them two?" Rosas inquired softly.
Carl froze. Dipping his head a bit, he swiveled it in the man's direction. "You know something?" His voice was low, soft, and flat, but definitely curious.
Rosas gave a shrug. "Could be nothing. Could be something."
"Spit it out, Manuel."
"I was in Bennetson's office this morning, getting my insurance changed. The door to his office was open, and I heard him on the phone. He was talking to Tom Mallon. You know, his cousin up in Tumbril Harbor?"
"The lumbermill guy?"
"Right. Anyway, I heard Bennetson say something along the lines of, 'Yeah, he's a damn fine worker. I hated to let him go. I asked him to stay on but he wanted to head up to Clearwater. So I gave him your name in case he made it up your way.'"
"Clearwater?" Carl repeated to make sure he heard right.
Nodding, Rosas took a drink, setting his bottle back on the bar with a thump. "I'm thinking he didn't stop in Clearwater.
93
My guess is Morr drove all the way up to Harbor and applied at the mill like Bennetson suggested. Why else would he be talking to his cousin unless the guy was checkin' out Morr's references?"
In his pain and alcohol-fogged brain, Carl tried to roughly calculate the distance. "What kind of drive would that be?
Five hours? Six?"
"Umm. Yeah. Five and a half or six. Sounds about right."
Rosas squinted at the man next to him. "You heading up there tomorrow?"
Carl straightened up. "Thinkin' about it."
"Whatcha gonna do if they're there?" the man asked cautiously. Already he was regretting having told the guy, but—hell—Hannah was his woman. His common-law wife.
How Carl would handle the situation wasn't his problem.
To his relief, Jamison didn't seem too upset. "I just want to make sure she left of her own free will, and