Page 27 of Someone to Call My Own
“Jon, wait!” The way he shortened my name stopped me more than his words he chose or the resigned tone of voice he used. “If you drove an hour to my house then it must be important.”
I turned slowly to look at him once more. Emory smiled hesitantly and opened the door for me. “I didn’t come for myself; I came for a friend.”
“Is it Gabe or Josh?” he asked.
“No, Emory. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I took a seat on his couch, and he sat in the chair on the opposite end, which was as far away from me as he could get without standing across the room. He acted like a prim spinster too afraid to sit next to the big bad wolf for fear of losing his virtue. It rankled my nerves, but I needed his help. “My friend is a sheriff in Big Timber, Montana, and he’s working a cold case that doesn’t look too promising.” I knew there was more at play, but Beau wasn’t ready to talk about it. I didn’t pressure him because I knew he’d talk when he was ready. “I think he could use your help if you were willing.”
“You’re asking for a friend, huh?” Emory asked. Was that a little bit of humor I detected? Was Emory letting his guard down enough to make a joke? I felt like I walked on eggshells around Emory all the time and wasn’t sure how to answer him. “How good of a friend are we talking?”
“I don’t think I follow where you’re going with this line of questioning, Emory.”
Emory shrugged his shoulders casually then diverted his eyes away from mine. “He must be special if you’re showing up at my door asking for favors. That was all that I meant.” Was he jealous?
Over the years, I’d had my fair share of run-ins with percussion grenades that left my ears ringing, my head spinning, and severe disorientation, but none of them compared to the upheaval that Emory caused in me. I wanted to tell him it was none of his fucking business what kind of friend Beau was, but I would be lying to both of us. I didn’t have the luxury of living in a state of denial because one of us needed to accept the inevitable. When put like that, it sounded like I was comparing our eventualsomethingto death, but that wasn’t what I meant.
A part of me said to get up and walk out of there and never look back, while the rest said to stand my ground. I wanted to yell that I didn’t owe Emory an explanation, but I did if I wanted his help. Were his questions that unreasonable? I was about to ask him to get on a plane and fly to Montana to help a man who was a stranger to him. When the silence between us stretched to an uncomfortable length, Emory raised his head and looked at me.
“I’ve known Beau for twenty years. He’s the best kind of friend,” I said in the way of explanation. I could tell that my answer only made Emory more curious, but I also knew that he wasn’t going to ask me additional personal questions.
“What can you tell me about the case?” Emory asked.
“Ten years ago, a guy named Kent Jessup disappeared from a ranch in his jurisdiction. Beau told me that one of Kent’s family members was pressuring him to look into the disappearance.”
“Why now?” Emory asked. “Ten years is like a hundred years in the life of a missing persons investigation—or any for that matter. Why are they suddenly putting pressure on yourfriend?”
I couldn’t say he was jealous, but he was definitely curious about Beau. I hoped that curiosity led him to help my friend. “Beau was recently elected sheriff after his predecessor died suddenly.”
“So the family hopes the new guy will take a look at the case with fresh eyes or at least an open mind.” Emory’s eyes had taken on a faraway look, and his reply had come across as him thinking out loud rather than responding to me directly. Then he nibbled on his bottom lip while he processed things internally. I saw the shift in clarity in his beautiful green gaze the second he returned from wherever he’d gone. Emory’s cheeks flushed pink beneath my stare like he was embarrassed that he zoned out in front of me. He cleared his throat and said, “What’s changed in the case that your sheriff would want to use a psychic?”
“He’s notmysheriff,” I clarified. “What do you mean by what’s changed?”
“Well, I’ve worked with law enforcement officials enough to know that they only call in a psychic on a cold case for two reasons: they’re desperate, or they have a new lead and need some guidance. Which category does yourfriendfall into?”
“Why don’t you ask me what you want to know?”
“I believe I just did.” Emory looked confused about the turn our conversation made. “What has changed for your—”
“—friend.”
“I didn’t say it like that,” Emory argued.
“You did, and more than once. You even referred to Beau as my sheriff. He’s not my private sheriff.”
“That isn’t what I… I meant your sherifffriend.” He blushed when I quirked a brow at his tone. “I’m not implying anything.”
“Maybe not intentionally, but you’re giving away your subconscious feelings.”
“Are you going to psychoanalyze me now, Jon?” He used my nickname again, and I loved the natural way it rolled off his tongue, like we’d known each other longer than a few months. Hell, we didn’t know each other at all.
“Not at all, Em.”
“Let’s get back to the conversation about your… friend’s missing persons case.” Emory continued like he hadn’t heard me use a nickname for him too, but his eyes had widened slightly, and he had swallowed hard before he spoke again. “You might not have liked my tone, but my question was serious. What has changed?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Beau called me this morning to catch up, and he sounded stressed beyond normal. I asked if his new position was creating problems for him in the department since he was the newest member of the group but the one elected to the office of sheriff. Beau denied that there was anything wrong at first, but then he finally admitted it was the Kent Jessup case that had him down.”
“Why? If nothing has changed, then why the sense of urgency or despondency?”
“The case might be ten years old, but it isn’t to him. He’s only lived there for a little over a year,” I explained. “Maybe he thought he could approach it with new eyes and make a difference only to come up short like everyone else.”