Another house resembling a large cabin, hidden away amidst a strangle of forest. Paul negotiated the narrow dirt drive through the trees and found two Ford pickup trucks nestled against the line of trees surrounding the house. He pulled the rental beside the nearest one and killed the engine.
Vic Nettleson was standing on the porch when Paul closed the car door behind him. “Glad you’re all right,” said the banker.
Paul nodded without a word. He followed Nettleson inside.
The living room reached out with a distinction of being strictly bachelor’s quarters. Paul knew it well. An attempt had been made, yet it was just unkempt enough to be noticeable. However, it was much different from Paul’s abode. His condo in Los Angeles did not have racks of deer antlers mounted on the walls, or retro
