Page 30

Thirty

Stephanie

“Back already?”

I look up to see Shane Wilcox walking across the parking lot toward me as I step out of the office.

“No, actually.”

I stop and shoot a quick apologetic look at Jackson, who is behind the wheel of his truck a couple of parking spots down, waiting for me. He has been for the past hour already.

“Just popped in for a visit then?”

I shake my head, sad, because I’m going to miss my partner. Of anyone I’ve worked with over the years, he made the best partner.

“More like saying goodbye; I just came out of a meeting with Bellinger.”

His reaction is instant and his outburst is bittersweet.

“That pompous ass fired you?”

It doesn’t surprise me he’d jump to that conclusion. My boss was all but ready to hand me my walking papers when I first informed him I’d withheld important information about my father. He didn’t, and instead suspended me pending further investigation. That was over two months ago.

“No, he didn’t. I quit,” I clarify.

“Is it because of your injury?”

He motions at my arm, which I no longer wear in a sling, but is still pretty useless as arms go.

Yeah, I can see the minute progress, but as I told my physical therapist, at this rate I’ll be of retirement age before I get any half-decent function back. Hell, I haven’t even mastered the fine motor skills required to pick up a marble with my fingers. A six-month-old baby can do better than me.

“Actually, the decision to leave had already been made before I got shot. Everything that happened after just made that decision easier.”

“Wow.” Shane runs a hand through his unruly hair. “Well, that sucks for me. It means I have to break in a new partner,” he busts my chops.

“You’ll live.”

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he teases, before jumping on a different subject. “By the way, did Bellinger tell you we handed off the case to the federal prosecutor? My prediction is that Laine will plead out. He’s already confessed and given us the full story.”

It’s a miracle the man survived in the first place, but he somehow managed to come out of it with his faculties mostly intact. Physically, he wasn’t so lucky and has to contend with a host of problems, not the least of which is the loss of his sight, but I’m hard-pressed to conjure up any sympathy for him.

“Yeah, he did mention that.”

I was glad to hear it, because it means I won’t be called to testify, which I would rather avoid. I want to move forward and not be pulled back to what I’d rather leave in the past.

According to Bellinger, Laine explained his connection with Ben Vallard—the two had been friends since childhood—and confirmed how my father became involved in their scheme. Dad had already implied it had something to do with my brother’s hospital bills. Those bills were paid off in three lump sums. The first one was four months after David died. Each of the payment dates was within days of the first three bank robberies. Circumstantial, and it might not have been enough to convict him in a court of law, but it was clear to everyone my father was guilty.

Still, there was some validation in having Mitchel Laine confirm the course of events, and perhaps a hint of a redeeming factor in knowing my father tried to distance himself after David’s bills were paid off. For what it’s worth.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Wilcox probes. “What could possibly follow an exciting career as a federal agent?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really miss getting called out of bed in the middle of the night, or living off fast food and staying in dingy motel rooms. I’m growing partial to eight hours of sleep, and it turns out I enjoy a future with a little predictability.”

Shane grins as he checks over his shoulder where he’s clearly spotted Jackson waiting in the truck.

“I’m guessing he’s part of that more predictable future?”

“Yes. But also my new job with the High Mountain Trackers.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You? You’re joining the team? I didn’t even know you could ride.”

“I can, but I doubt I’ll be riding out much. My job is going to be coordinating the searches, liaising with law enforcement, and managing electronic surveillance and communications.”

Jackson looks to be asleep when I return to the truck after finally saying goodbye to Shane, with promises to stay in touch. His seat is tilted back and his hat is covering his face. When I lean over and reach for his hat, my hand is snatched midair.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbles, pulling me halfway across the console and onto his lap.

But when he shoves his hat back, I notice humor sparkling in his eyes.

“I deserve at least a kiss for chauffeuring you around and waiting patiently while you take care of shit.”

I press a kiss to his jaw.

“You deserve a lot more, but not in the FBI parking lot with twenty cameras aimed at us from different angles.”

“Spoilsport.”

He drops a kiss on my lips and returns me to my seat before straightening himself behind the wheel.

We drove to Kalispell early this morning to wrap up loose ends. Our first stop was my apartment, where we were able to pack up stuff I wanted to keep—which wasn’t much—and load it in the back of the truck. I left most of the furniture, which was pretty sparse to begin with, the bulk of the contents of the kitchen, and my TV behind. The landlord can sell it, or rent the place furnished. I don’t really care.

It’s not like I’ll need any of it. There’s no room in Jackson’s cabin, and when we eventually move into the big house, I already warned Jackson I want to shop for new furniture.

Our own furniture, preferably family-friendly.

“Do we need to go anywhere else?” Jackson wants to know.

With butterflies in my stomach, I turn to face him and try to guess how he will react to what is to come.

“We have just one more stop to make.”

* * *

Jackson

When she directs me to park in front of a western clothing store, I don’t think much of it.

But then she starts dragging me across the street to an entirely different kind of store.

I’m confused.

“Where are you taking me?”

I mean, I can see where she’s taking me, it’s a standalone building, there really is no mistaking it, but it’s not computing right away.

Then my eye catches on a display in the window and it hits home with the impact of a fist in the stomach. Her face betrays her anxiety as I slam on the brakes, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at her slack-faced.

“You’re shitting me…”

It’s more of a rhetorical question, since the glimmer in her eyes tells me she is dead serious and terrified. Grabbing a firm hold of her hand, I pull her around the side of the building. I press her back against the brick wall and lean in to her, my nose almost touching hers.

“For real?”

She nods, blinking her eyes as I cup her face in my hands.

“You’re sure.”

“One-hundred-percent,” she whispers, a second before my lips cover hers.

* * *

“Need help?”

Ma comes down the porch and walks over, as I drop the tailgate on the truck.

“Wouldn’t mind a hand.” I look beyond her. “Is Jonas around?”

“He’s just gone to check in with the contractor. Do you need him?”

I glance over to the construction site on the other side of the driveway. It still looks a bit messy, but the shell of the building is already up. It went surprisingly fast. I can see Jonas looming over a short guy in a hard hat, maybe five foot six or seven, and my stepfather is clearly unhappy about something.

“What’s going on this time?”

This isn’t the first run-in between Jonas and the contractors. It’s mostly a control thing. If this is a foreboding for how things will be when he retires, we’re all in for a rocky ride.

“Oh, I don’t even know,” Ma says, dismissively gesturing with her hand. “He may have found another uneven spot on the concrete floor, or this time it could be a paint drip on the steel beams. Who the hell knows? If he’s not bothering the guys here, he’s up on the hill stirring up shit there.”

Their new house is starting to take shape already as well, but as predicted, the progress is a little slower.

“You should book a trip. Go on a cruise or something. Get him out of here. He says he wants to travel, show you the world. Tell him you need a break. That man will do anything for you. Dan and I can keep an eye out here.”

She shakes her head. “He’s never gonna go for it.”

I grin at her. “Oh, I think he might.”

Glancing back at Jonas, I put my fingers in my mouth and blow. His head swings around at my sharp whistle, and I motion for him to join us. He immediately wanders over.

“You’re back,” he states the obvious. “Did everything with Stephanie’s apartment get sorted?”

I’d used that as an excuse when I sent them a message yesterday to let them know we wouldn’t be back until this morning. I wasn’t about to share I was taking Stephanie for dinner and then a private night at the Red Lion Hotel to celebrate.

“It did.”

I hand him a box of books from the back of the truck and give Ma a basket of bathroom linens to carry inside. I follow behind with the rest of Stephanie’s books.

She’s already inside, putting on a pot of coffee, and turns around when we file into the cabin. Her eyes find mine right away and I shrug in response to the question I read in them.

“Where do you want these?” Jonas asks.

“If you wouldn’t mind putting them under the window in the living room for now? I’ll figure out where to put those later.”

“If you don’t have room here, feel free to find a home for them in the big house,” Ma offers. “You may as well, you’ll be moving in there soon enough.”

“Not if those yahoos keep dragging their asses the way they do,” Jonas grumbles. “It’ll never get done.”

“Maybe they could get some work done if you weren’t breathing down their necks all the time,” my mother fires back, handing me the opening I need.

“You guys should take a trip,” I suggest, shooting a pointed look at Ma to weigh in.

“I wish we could,” she chimes in. “The dirt and the constant noise of the construction is starting to get to me. I get headaches, my body is aching, and I haven’t been sleeping well either.”

As expected, that gets my stepfather’s attention.

“You should see the doctor.”

“I don’t need to see a doctor; I need to get away from here for a bit.”

“I promise, I’ll take you wherever you want to go after construction is finished,” he returns. “We’ll have all the time in the world to travel.”

While the two of them are hashing it out, I’ve made my way over to Stephanie and drape an arm over her shoulders.

“Actually,” I interject. “I would strongly suggest using what’s left of this summer to get any traveling you were hoping to do out of the way, because there’s no way you’ll be able to get Ma away from the ranch after March of next year, and you may not wanna go either.”

Stephanie snuggles into my side, putting her hand on my chest. She knows where I’m going with this.

“Why the hell not?” Jonas demands to know.

“Because you’re both going to want to stick around for the arrival of your first grandchild.”