Page 61 of Solid as Steele
Owen’s whole body stiffened. “Sit.”
Hatch didn’t say a word but dropped onto his desk chair and crossed his arms. This was the first interview since Owen was approved to work Cassie’s investigation. First guy he made mad. First time Owen would have to ask his boss for forgiveness. But Owen was a strong man, and she believed he could handle his boss’s wrath.
Owen gestured for her to take a seat too. She did, and he sat on the edge of the desk.
Hatch scooted back. “I didn’t know it was that serious. I wouldn’t have called him if I did.”
“I was assaulted at the location where you provided the coordinates. Hit over the head. Left for dead and my Jeep stolen.”
“Man, oh, man.” Hatch ran a hand over his face. “Ned wouldn’t do that.”
Right.This guy seemed out of touch with reality.
“How well do you know him?” Owen asked.
“Real well. Been working for me for ten years. Not a lick of trouble.”
“None?” Mackenzie asked. “In ten years. Hard to believe.”
“Okay, maybe he got mad at some of the more entitled jerks he took out hunting. Not a one of us hasn’t. We’re just better at hiding it.”
“You guide a lot of those types of people?” Mackenzie asked.
“Unfortunately, yeah. They have money to burn and our expeditions don’t come cheap.” Hatch frowned. “Not only do I have to pay the guide, which if you want one with experience you have to offer a good salary to keep them from leaving for the outfit down the road. Then I gotta feed the guests for the duration of the hunt. Not baked beans or MREs. No, they want gourmet all the way. And I have to own and maintain enough equipment to outfit them. And then there’s the horses we use. Vet bills. Feed. That all costs a pretty penny these days.”
“Why do it, then?” She took a sip of her coffee, now the perfect drinking temperature.
“I make enough so my wife can stay home with the kids. I’ll never get rich for sure, but point blank, I love it. Don’t have to sit behind a desk like this all day. Except when the receptionist pitches a hissy fit. Just because I asked her to do her job right, and she bolts like a skittish colt out the door, never to be seen again. The new one was at her last job for a few years, so maybe I can get a few out of her too.”
Not with an attitude like that,Mackenzie resisted saying.
“Where’s Leach now?” Owen asked.
“Still out scouting bears.”
“What kind of vehicle does he drive?” Mackenzie asked.
“Ford pickup. White. Late eighties Lariat. ”
“What make of rifle does he usually use?” Owen asked.
“Hmm, well depends on what he’s hunting, but his all-round favorite is a Sig Sauer Cross.”
Mackenzie had heard of that. A pricey rifle for sure.
“Do you know what ammo it takes?” Owen asked.
“They have varying models, but his is chambered for .308 Winchesters.”
The same caliber used to kill Bussey. Mackenzie resisted sharing a knowing look with Owen.
“Get on the phone and call Leach back in,” Owen said. “Don’t mention that I directed your call.”
“Okay, but he might not answer. Reception even for SAT phones out there can be sketchy.” He picked up his SAT phone and placed the call.
“Put him on speaker,” Owen directed.
Hatch punched the button.
