safely. Iâm sorry. Now come. Thereâs much to show you.â
The driver emerged and walked around the front of the vehicle to open the passenger door for Mullins. He was the same man who had accompanied Brentwood in Shirlington. Mullins could see the slight bulge of a shoulder holster under his left arm.
âApology accepted.â Mullins gestured for Li to precede him. Brentwood nodded a thank you, slid in beside Peter, and patted the space next to him. Li sat and the driver closed the door.
âI can seat myself.â Mullins walked around the limo, keeping his eyes on both Lamar and the driver.
When everyone was settled, the driver popped open the trunk. Lamar pulled their bags from the Gulfstream and turned them over to the driver to load. Within five minutes, they were on I-40, skirting Asheville until they exited onto a two-lane blacktop that wound through a green valley of farms and crossroad communities.
Mullins leaned forward and stole a quick glance in the exterior side mirror. A black Tahoe trailed closely behind. Although the letters and numerals were reversed in the reflection, Mullins identified the blue and white plate as being from Virginia.
The long valley narrowed, funneling into just the road and a bold stream rippling between two mountainsides.
âPeter, this is called Hickory Nut Gorge.â Brentwood pointed to the ridge crest on their right. âSee how high the mountains rise? Over millions of years, the Rocky Broad River has cut the gorge even deeper.â
âThe riverâs not very big,â Peter said.
âTrue. But millions of years is a very long time. Even before the Cherokee were here.â
âIndians?â Peter suddenly became interested.
âYes. Look up ahead. See that gray stone tower sticking out near the top of the mountain?â
The boy pressed his face against the tinted window. âThereâs a flagpole on top.â
âThatâs Chimney Rock. Itâs a natural stone formation and it looks just like a chimney. And you get up there by an elevator.â
âWow! From all the way down here?â
Brentwood laughed. âNo. From the base of the chimney. But itâs still pretty amazing to ride inside a mountain. They used that location when they made a movie called The Last of the Mohicans. Of course, they didnât use the flagpole.â
Peter looked across Brentwood to Lisa Li. âCan we go sometime, Aunt Li Li?â
âSure,â Brentwood interjected. âBut not today. When itâs more convenient for your aunt and Mr. Mullins.â
The gorge widened just enough to allow buildings on either side of the road. An assortment of gift shops, mom-and-pop restaurants, and even a motorcycle repair garage lined the banks of the stream.
âThis is the Village of Chimney Rock,â Brentwood explained. âA real snug fit between the water and the mountainside. Iâve been warned you wouldnât want to be here during a flash flood. The little river can turn into a raging torrent, sweeping everything out of its path.â
âCouldnât the people climb up on the chimney?â
Brentwood nodded with genuine approval. âYou know, Peter, I believe that they could. Iâll suggest that and tell them it was your idea.â
Peter sat back and looked at the book in his lap. âYou liked this story, Mr. Brentwood?â
âYes. I wasnât much older than you when I first read it. I had to look up a lot of words. But it stuck with me.â
âMr. Lamar said it was about detectives.â
âNo. That was a movie.â Brentwood leaned close to Peter and whispered, âBetween you and me, Mr. Lamarâs not smart enough to understand this book. But I bet you are. Itâs set in the future and itâs about the history of robots. And it gave me some ideas that Iâm going to work on with your aunt.â
âFrom your subconscious?â
Brentwood laughed.
G.B. Lindsey
Mary Costello
Susan Lucci
Glenn van Dyke, Renee van Dyke
Anna Katmore
Kyung-Ran Jo
Nerina Hilliard
Gertrude Chandler Warner
Leah Cutter
John Hardy Bell