Page 71 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)

As we drove to the reception, Tom said, “What you might not know yet is James got Frank Jardos released. He messaged me before the ceremony started.”

During my final, warp-speed preparations.

“That’s good news.”

“It is, though he’ll have other charges to deal with for not reporting Nance’s body and the fire. You going to call the colonel?”

“Now?”

“Would you want a delay in knowing?”

It was a sneaky question. He knows I don’t like delays in knowing anything.

He pulled out his phone and talked to Frank while I updated the colonel.

I’m guessing other newlywed couples use the drive to the reception for other purposes.

* * * *

Needham and Thelma were walking into the museum at the same time we were, with a small, beautifully wrapped package.

“Hey, you already gave me a present,” I said to Needham. “Best one ever.”

I caught Thelma and Tom sharing a look that would match a soundtrack of a blended indulgent and annoyed, Journalists.

“That was for you,” Needham said. “This is for Tom.”

“From me,” Thelma added sternly, but her smile belied it.

Mom snagged us then to form the official receiving line, and I discovered being on this side of the line was fun, because everyone who came through was someone either you or the person you love wanted to be here today.

Same thing for the reception.

I wanted to spend time with everyone simultaneously.

That wasn’t possible. But seeing conversations that mixed and mingled guests — like Bonnie and Matt in animated discussion with Jack Delahunt, Aunt Gee swapping recipes with my aunt. Tom’s sister laughing with two of my brothers, Dell sitting with Mrs. P — it was even better in another way.

And then I spotted my mother talking to Shelton.

I’ll be honest, I turned around and found Tom.

I was not prepared to witness those two interplanetary powers intersecting.

Later, I pulled Hannah Chaney off cake duty as the cake eaters dwindled.

That didn’t endear me to the cake maker and server, who you might recall wasn’t fond of me to start.

On the other hand, it was too late for her to poison it, even if she wasn’t restrained by her regard for Tom.

Besides, it was worth it to connect Hannah with Zeb, suggesting she ask him about growing tomatoes.

They made arrangements to go to the nursery in Cody for plants. It was a little late in the season, he warned, but he had a couple smaller varieties that should work real well for her.

And kids loved popping whole cherry tomatoes in their mouths.

I predicted a bumper crop for the Chaneys — tomatoes, not kids. Though maybe those, too.

Iris declared me a genius, because Zeb now had a fascinated audience and she could stop pretending interest in the garden except harvesting the goodies.

A woman after my own heart.

I wasn’t done with my reception good deeds.

I cornered Richard.

“Which is your favorite podcast, Richard?”

He side-eyed me suspiciously before saying, “I keep up with news and general knowledge — quirky how-do-things-work, like Freakonomics.”

“Good choice. What about podcasts on law enforcement behaving badly?”

I had him. Not quite guilty, but definitely caught.

He had multiple approaches open to him. He went for dignity. No wriggling, no denying, no dismissing. I respected his choice.

“I do watch some. They’re instructive.”

The last word surprised me. “Instructive?”

“Watching other law enforcement officers make mistakes and listening to the analysis of what they did wrong, especially regarding citizens’ rights, helps me know how I should act. And not act.”

“Very well-played, Richard.” Deserving of a reward. “Would you like to come with me to talk with Nola Choi?”

“Sounds good.”

No hesitation. No asking how this connected to podcasts. And he barely blushed at all.

* * * *

In the following days, first Kam Droemi and then Jay Haus were caught.

Haus swore that he’d only told Miles how the registered agents system worked, not a single word about how to abuse it.

He had a hard time, though, explaining why, after Nance confronted him, he directed the vet to Miles Stevens, then immediately called Stevens.

According to Haus, he hadn’t suspected the dead man in the cabin might be Nance until Frank Jardos was found alive. At that point, Haus fled.

Because he wasn’t involved.

Right?

Kam tried essentially the same excuses, with hers further undermined by proof that Miles Stevens used her address and her computer for the scam, while frequenting her apartment enough that neighbors assumed they were a couple.

With subtle hints from us that did not reveal Jennifer’s research, the authorities found for themselves that the money trail led directly to Miles. He’d paid Kam little and Haus hardly anything.

Less subtly, Jennifer pointed them to information on a number of companies Miles had registered in Wyoming. So far, most face having their registration withdrawn. A few face more serious investigations.

The scientific wizards recovered enough of the serial number on the fire-damaged gun to connect it to a weapon reported lost in a house fire that Miles worked.

That added another piece in the case against him.

But not Jasper Abbott’s case against him.

The decision was made to move prosecution to another county because of the close ties between the sheriff’s department and the fire department.

I suspected the concern was not that this case could be endangered by those ties, but that it might fray future ties.

Frank Jardos cleared up that on the day he walked past Connie without noticing her he’d been going to the fire department. He’d picked up a hint that mail with vets’ names had been delivered to Kam Droemi’s address. She wasn’t there and he didn’t have a chance to follow up.

No big surprise now, but if Shelton had let him give that answer at the campsite, we might have made the connections sooner.

Or not.

Mrs. P brought Clara into line and the negotiations between the museum and the veterans was approved by the board. James Longbaugh was finalizing the paperwork.

The vets and Frank were planning a memorial for Ben Sam Preet — Nance — and a cabin-raising for Frank.

The present from Needham and Thelma was a Christmas ornament with a wonderful hand-painted view of the Circle B home ranch.

Nola Choi got a comment from Sherman police officer Randy Hollister about his relative, Kyle Vaughn Quetcher Moser.

“I never knew— He said he was using different parts of his name because a drug cartel had a price on his head—”

That was the end of the clip, because Richard Alvaro’s back and shoulder came into the shot and suddenly Randy wasn’t there anymore.

Two things about that.

Shelton almost certainly dispatched Alvaro to intervene.

And it was a nice move by Nola to leave those frames in.

Diana tied up any remaining questions about Hollister’s role.

“Randy talked about a distant cousin maybe moving here. As one of his neighbors said, he seemed confused about this guy contacting him out of the blue. The neighbor added that Randy often seemed confused, so . . .”

She shrugged.

That satisfied everyone.

Nola did the story on Kyle Vaughn Quetcher Moser’s attempt to circumvent the National Decertification Index.

For her version for the network, she interviewed Russ Conrad to cover the sheriff’s department’s role, which Shelton provided in the local story.

Smart. Cottonwood County could make sense of Shelton. The nation wasn’t ready for him.

Plus, it gave her points with Conrad for giving him that exposure.

Heck, it might give her points with Shelton for not giving him the exposure.

Nola had a phone call from Kyle’s mother about how Nola had ruined his life.

Right. Wasn’t anything Kyle did. It was the person who reported what Kyle did.

Another journalism lesson for Nola.

Dell, being Dell, worked a version of the story for his network, letting him stay an extra day and two nights in Sherman. Most of it spent, from what I later gathered from Penny’s fractured account, in Clara’s bed.

Good for them.

Just as that period of time was good for Tom and me.

I read the final pages of Irene’s manuscript one night cuddled against his side.

* * * *

(Notes: He’s at his old home, on the porch. Turning Maggie’s ring over and over in his fingers. Puts it away when he hears his sister.)

“You’ve spent a good deal of time out here, Nathaniel.”

“I suppose I’m not accustomed yet to being fit for society.”

“I’m not scolding. This is your home. You do as you please. However, on the matter of society, I do venture to ask how you found Bellemonte yesterday?”

Flora had warned him the family lived in the south wing of Bellemonte since the fire.

“Much changed.”

“And Laidey?”

Her wardrobe was diminished and her surroundings straitened, but Adelaide still held domain over all around her.

“Not so much changed, though she seemed to view me more favorably and assigns no blame to me for having the poor taste to join the Union army rather than dying honorably in prison.”

Some had.

“Don’t be mistaken, Nathaniel. Few are not changed. Even Laidey. Her first concern is a live suitor. Dead heroes don’t answer her needs at all. Don’t leave your jaw hanging that way, or someone might kick it.”

He burst into laughter, and she joined him.

“Oh, it’s good to hear you laugh. Nathaniel.”

She reached over and pushed back a lock of his hair the way she had when he was a boy. He would jerk away, embarrassed at such babying. He did not jerk away now.

When her hand dropped from his face, he took it between both of his.

She would have spoken, but they heard a wracking cough from inside. They remained silent, both looking toward the house, until the sound subsided.

“Peter’s cough has worsened, I fear, since your return,” Flora said. He couldn’t disagree. “Did he cough so severely when you were in the West?”

“No.”

She sighed. He heard resignation and resolve in that exhalation.

“Tell me about Dakota Territory.”