He'd just said something about the place not being paid for.But not with money?What did he mean?
I asked, "So if you don't owe money, whatwouldyou owe?"
"Deeds."
"You mean like property deeds?"
"No. The other kind."
I shook my head. "Like…good deeds?"
"Or bad deeds," he said. "Depending on how you look at things."
I tried to laugh. "Now I'm really confused."
"Lemme back up," he said. "This mountain – I own it."
"Seriously? The whole thing?"
He frowned. "Oh yeah."
I studied his face. "But isn't that a good thing? I mean, your books didreallywell, so it's not like you didn't earn it, right?"
Jake gave me a serious look, but said nothing.
As the silence stretched out between us, I suddenly realized what he was getting at. "Oh." I winced. "Unless you bought itbeforeyour books took off?"
He nodded. "Good guess."
"So I'm right? But that must've cost a fortune."
"It did."
"So…whose money did you use?"
He grimaced. "I think you know."
"Your dad's?"
"Right." As I listened, Jack went on to explain that when he left home as a teenager, he'd had access to one of his dad's many off-shore accounts. He'd drained it dry and then used the money to buy his own private mountain through a private trust.
I stared in shock. "Why a mountain?"
"I wanted to be alone." He gave a low scoff. "AndI was a dumb-ass."
"Why? Don’t you like it here?"
"I love it. But I don’t like how I got it."
"You mean, because you took money that didn't belong to you?"
"No. Because I took money that didn't belong tohim."
"You mean your dad?" When Jack nodded, I asked, "So whodidit belong to?"
With a tight shrug, Jack replied, "Hell ifIknow."
"So what are you saying? He stole the money?"