Payback Read Online Free PDF

his extra-strong, Columbian double latte in a thermal cup.
    He turned and looked at me, eyes widening when he realized that I was the one yelling. “Sorry , lady, but I can’t talk. If I talk, I could get fired.”
    “You don’t even know what I want to talk about.”
    “I suspect it’s about one of our clients, and that’s off limits.”
    I caught up to him as he fiddled with the lock to get into his 1988 Ford F150 that looked like a few cows had taken their frustrations out on it. “Look, Caden is a friend of mine. I just want to talk to him.”
    “I don’t care if he’s your brother; I can’t tell you anything about him or I could lose my job.” The guy was now in his seat and starting his truck.
    “Please!  Could you just tell him that I’m looking for him?”
    “Sorry , lady, but I can’t.” The cowboy pulled out of the parking spot and into the road without looking, causing a young woman to slam on her brakes to keep from hitting him.  He sped off without so much as a gesture of contrition.
    But now I knew that his place was in the area, that Caden lived somewhere nearby. I had my first solid lead—Caden owned a cattle ranch that bought feed nearby. As soon as I got back to the house, I started calling every feed lot in a fifty-mile radius and asked for Max, the driver who delivered a load to Caden Kelly yesterday. I struck pay dirt on my third call.
    I heard the rustling of paper and then a response, “Yeah, I see that Max delivered the load yesterday,” the male voice said.
    “Yeah, well, I think the address is wrong on the invoice because we haven’t received the paperwork yet.”
    “He should have given it to you yesterday when he unloaded the goods,” the guy said suspiciously. 
    I looked on Google Maps and made something up. “The document I have here has a load of grain for 4576 Othorp Lake Road, Eureka.”
    “Nah, I’m showing 398 Loon Lake Ranch Way in Trego.”
    “Well, that’s the right address.  Maybe he just gave us the wrong invoice.  I’ll let Mr. Kelly know.  Thanks.”
    “No problem,” he responded and hung up.
    My heart was beating so fast that I had to sit down. I felt like it was going to implode.  I pulled out my laptop and found the map application. The property was about forty miles north of Whitefish.  Although Mrs. Iverson had let me stay without paying, I couldn’t take advantage of her anymore. I needed to find Caden, convince him to read my book and star in the movie so that I could get backing, and I needed to do it fast. 
    I no longer had a working cell phone with a GPS…they had cut me off for nonpayment.  So I pulled up the directions on my laptop and took off for Trego.  My Porsche was now seven years old, and besides needing its seventy-five-thousand mile checkup, a tune-up, and oil change, I was fairly certain that the tread on the tires wouldn’t pass the muster if I was pulled over by a cop. But I didn’t have the two thousand dollars needed to replace the four premium racing tires that it required.
    Snow had spit some white on the town and highways over the last week , but now it was snowing in earnest and had been for the last eight hours.  As I drove up to Trego, I practiced what I was going to say to the man with whom I had once shared my life. After turning off 93 North, I made another turn and started to climb into the forests.  The roads had been cleared but were quickly filling back up with snow. My car fishtailed every time I turned a corner, so I slowed down, creeping up the road at thirty miles an hour. When I saw Loon Lake Ranch Way, I took a deep breath and made the turn into an area populated with tall pines. I kept looking for mailboxes and finally found the one that made my heart stop. It was innocuous, a plain, white mailbox sitting on a cedar post bearing only the numbers 398.  I turned left onto Loon Lake Ranch Way and was immediately impressed with the wide, gravel road leading up the moderate grade of a hill.