His unexplained absence was enough to convince Macy that Ash was in the center of the storm. The fact that she was the last to know? Annoying as all get-out.
If Macy closed her eyes, she could see Bailey Garcia on the television screen, her perfect dark hair in a sleek bob. She smoothed one hand down her ponytail before snatching a pen off her desk.
“I have no comment. All official Reserve press communication is handled by the public affairs officers in Knoxville. If you’d like to leave a message for the head ranger, please don’t hesitate to call back.” Macy gently set the phone back in the receiver and took a deep breath.
Her cell phone showed no new texts, but the flash of light outside drew her attention to the tall windows that made up one side of the Otter Lake Ranger Station and Visitor Center. On normal days, a peaceful view of a nearly empty parking lot and the forest and mountains beyond was a pretty picture.
Now that view was blocked by a news van that hadn’t been there ten minutes ago and what might grow into a full-blown paparazzi pack unless she acted quickly.
Gentrys didn’t dither. Gentrys took control. Ash was out of the picture for a minute, but the district office in Knoxville might have answers. She waited for one of the lines to clear and hit the first speed-dial button.
“Smoky Valley Nature Reserve District Office. This is Kayla. How may I direct your call?” Kayla had been the third person to take over reception since Macy had landed the spot at the ranger station. She was probably facing the same barrage of calls Macy had. Her ability to pretend it was just another day explained why she’d outlasted the others.
“Hey, girl, it’s Macy. My phone is ringing off the hook with reporters looking for comments from Ash. Is Winter around? If there’s an official answer I’m supposed to be giving, I’d love to have it.” Winter Kingfisher, Ash’s sister, was the public information officer for the Reserve. If anyone had prepared a statement, Winter would have it ready to go.
Kayla answered in a low voice, “Winter isn’t in the office. She was here, but she left in a hurry after I put a call through from Whit Callaway.” The last two words were whispered.
Macy watched more news vans park in front of the door. “Have you seen Ash?”
Kayla cleared her throat. “Yeah, but he’s been in with the chief ranger. My orders are to say nothing but politely. Maybe you can manage the same.”
“Good advice. When Ash comes out, could you have him call me?” Macy asked.
“I’ll try, but the atmosphere here is tense, you know?” Kayla answered. “The chief just stepped out to take a call from the Callaways, so Ash’s meeting may be over soon, anyway.”
“Thanks, Kayla.” Macy ended the call and straightened as her phone immediately rang again. Reporter? Or Ash?
Macy picked up her phone to text Ash an update. Reporters at the front door. Where are you?
She chewed the tip of her fingernail as she waited. Texting was Ash’s preferred mode of communication. Even in person, he spoke as few words as possible.
After what seemed like a lifetime, but must have been all of three seconds, Ash answered. Keep telling them: no comment. Brett is on the way. My orders are to avoid the press and the ranger station for now, but he’s close.
Macy considered a few different answers but settled on encouraging. We can handle the reporters. This will blow over.
When he didn’t immediately answer, Macy wished she’d erased the last line of the text before she’d hit Send.
Eventually, Ash answered. You can handle anything, Gentry, but I don’t want you to have to do it alone.
Macy clasped a hand over her stomach as a weird twist settled there. Ash was confident in her ability as always. His concern for her was sweet, different from his normal stoic self.
Take your time in Knoxville. We’ll talk when you get home. Satisfied that she hadn’t crossed the line into warm and fuzzy, Macy put her phone down carefully.
Right. Brett’s estimated time of arrival... Macy turned to check the oversize clock perched right behind her desk. Two minutes late. “That polecat should be here by now.” The crowd outside had grown. Now the reporters had been joined by Sweetwater’s mayor, two of the old guys who loitered in the barbershop on Saturday and Macy’s landlord. They weren’t marching, but the signs they were waving signaled their protest.
“Save Sweetwater jobs. More tourists equal more tax dollars equal more school spending. Callaway for Tennessee.” Macy read the signs and had to admit they deserved extra points for preparation. The one with the equal signs and the dollar signs replacing every S was painted in neon orange. If four picketers had shown up this quickly after the story broke, how large could the crowd grow? The people milling around on the sidewalk appeared to be waiting for someone, but eventually, they would come inside.
Unless she locked the door.
Could she do that?
She could do it, but should she? Her finger hovered over the panic button Ash had insisted be installed the previous summer when one of the national park rangers had come under fire. If she pushed it, the doors locked and an emergency alert went out to all the law enforcement rangers. Macy had argued then that it was the rangers who needed better protection, not office managers, but today she was wondering if she was going to have to tell Ash he’d been right after all.
That panic button would remain unpushed until Macy drew her last breath. Ash couldn’t be right. The man was right too often for her peace of mind as it was.
Then Brett Hendrix’s SUV rolled in and it was almost as if she could hear the cavalry bugles playing in the distance. He was only a man, but Brett had the training, the badge and Ash’s respect to back him up.
The way all the reporters immediately swarmed him, microphones out and cameras flashing, convinced Macy that no matter what was going on, Ash had made a couple of good decisions already.
Being scarce at this point was his best defense.
Macy stood and did her best to smooth any wrinkles out of her pants before straightening her navy blue Reserve shirt. Ash insisted every staff member wear the uniform and treat it with respect.
When the television cameras turned to her, she figured she’d better look the part.
As she opened the front door, Macy heard Brett say, “I have no new information on the status of the lodge project.”
“But is the governor’s insistence that there be an investigation a political maneuver?” a tall, thin man at the back of the pack shouted.
Brett held up both hands signaling he had no way of knowing. Macy was certain that was the only possible answer. How were they to know what the governor had intended by seizing this environmental impact study and taking a stand? Common sense said it was about causing trouble for his political opponent, but how much further would he go than stirring up the news media?
Macy had met the guy once. Richard Duncan had run on a platform of “Tennessee First” and had taped one of his campaign commercials on Otter Lake. He’d been surrounded by an entourage at least four people deep. A hurried handshake was the best he could manage.
“Why
