Chapter 11 Cosi #2
My entire body tensed with the feeling of being watched. My breath lodged in my lungs as I shut off my flashlight. Then I flipped open the clasp on my holster, hand poised over my gun.
Ears straining for any noise, I let my eyes adjust to the night as I spun in a slow circle. Whoever had set fire to her shed was likely long gone. But what if they’d stayed close to watch it burn? Or worse?
Another shudder rolled over my shoulders as I let the darkness settle over my body like a cloak.
What the fuck was happening on Cotters Lake?
I waited for a few long moments, heart thundering in my chest. If someone was out here, there’d be no finding them tonight. So I set off toward the cabin, turning my flashlight back on to follow my own tracks.
The sound of an engine cranking echoed in the night as the house came into view. The lights were all off save for the single bare bulb in a sconce beside the front door.
I found Ilsa in the driveway, sitting in the driver’s seat of Ike’s truck, the door open. Her right hand was on the key in the ignition. Her forehead was on the steering wheel, her shoulders curled forward.
“Hey,” I said.
She startled, shooting upright as her hand slapped over her chest. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She sighed. “I’m just . . . on edge. And I can’t get this fucking truck started.”
It was damn cold tonight, the coldest we’d had all winter, and I didn’t see an extension cord from the house to keep the truck plugged in. Maybe Ike hadn’t installed an engine block heater for his Ford.
She sniffled, reaching for the key again. And once more, the engine turned over but didn’t start.
“Come on.” I waved her to my Bronco. “I’ll drive you into town.”
“All right.” She closed her eyes, frame sagging like she didn’t have the energy to get out from behind the wheel. It took a moment before she swung her legs out and hauled out the bags she’d loaded inside. A duffel bag. A purse. A purple briefcase and an empty jar.
“I’ll carry this.” I took the duffel from her hand, then escorted her to my truck, opening the passenger door for her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, hopping inside. She tried to hide it, but I didn’t miss the quick swipe she made at the corner of her eye.
Damn. That tear was partly my fault.
The drive to town would be over thirty minutes. That would give us plenty of time to talk. Plenty of time for me to apologize.
I carried her bag around the hood, putting it in the back. Then I got in and started the truck, cranking the heat.
Ilsa wrapped her arms around her waist. She leaned against the door, her eyes trained outside as I turned us around and headed toward Dalton.
Her sweet, citrusy scent filled the inside of the cab as the heater chased away the cold.
When we passed Robert Aaron’s place, Ilsa sat straighter. And by the time we reached Sue Anne’s A-frame, her spine might as well have been a steel rod.
Every light was on in both houses.
Had one of them burned the shed? I couldn’t see it. Neither had a reason to torment Ilsa like this. And the tracks I’d found led away from their houses, not toward them.
“I found a trail of footprints leading away from the shed,” I said.
Ilsa faced me, her expression blank. Not the curiosity or outrage I would have expected. She just looked empty. Tired. “So all it took for you to believe me was a case of arson. Noted.”
Hell. “I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I’m sorry.”
She dropped her gaze to her lap. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had my doubts too. When you couldn’t find any tracks, especially the first time, I was worried that maybe . . .”
The rest of her sentence hung in the air, but she didn’t need to finish it. She’d been doubting herself, hadn’t she? Wondering if her own imagination had run wild. The stress of that worrying was my fault too.
“I don’t know what the hell is going on,” I said. “But I’ll find out. I promise.”
I made it a rule to be careful making promises. I rarely made promises to my own kid, let alone people in the middle of an open case. A broken promise was a wound. I’d suffered enough of those from my own father—I wasn’t going to inflict that pain on others.
But for this? Like it or not, I owed Ilsa. I’d fucked up.
This was a promise I’d make. And keep.
Ilsa stayed quiet as we rolled through the dark. It took a while, but about fifteen minutes after leaving the cabin, her posture relaxed and the stiffness in her shoulders eased.
The temperature warmed enough that I tossed my hat and gloves in the back. And as we wound down the road, following the curves and corners that would take us to the highway, it took an active effort not to steal glances to her side of the truck.
Other than my mother, I’d never had a woman in this truck. Strange how I hadn’t noticed the dust on the dash on the way up to Cotters tonight. Or the dirt on the floor or the coffee cup I’d left in the console this morning. Tomorrow, I’d beg Spencer to clean the Bronco and pay him a few bucks.
When we reached the highway, I was grateful for the loud whir of the tires on the asphalt. The noise was a welcome distraction from the beautiful woman at my side. I loosened my grip on the wheel and breathed deep for the first time since leaving the lake.
How many minutes, how many hours, would it take until I could relax when she was around? When I wasn’t so on edge in her presence?
“How long have you lived in Dalton?” she asked.
Small talk was never my favorite, but I’d take idle questions to fill the silence. “Twenty years. Mom and I moved here when I was ten. After my dad’s accident.”
“I wonder if we ever crossed paths when we were kids. I used to spend my summers in Dalton. Dad and I mostly stayed at the lake, but we’d come into town from time to time. Sometimes I see faces that are familiar.”
“Maybe we did.” Though I had a feeling if I’d seen her at the ice cream shop or café, I would have remembered.
Hers was not a face I’d ever forget.
Granted, the years after Spencer was born, the years when I’d been old enough to notice girls, they’d been the farthest thing from my mind. I’d been too busy changing diapers, trying to graduate as a teenaged parent and working at a local ranch to make money.
“You’re thirty?” she asked, earning a nod. “So you had Spencer when you were sixteen?”
“Yeah. His mom was my high school girlfriend. We were . . . stupid kids.” Kids too caught up in each other to practice safe sex. “Not that I regret Spencer. But the timing wasn’t ideal.”
“That’s fair.”
“His mom, Gwen, isn’t in the picture.”
Maybe she heard the tightness in my tone because she said, “You don’t have to explain.”
No, I didn’t. But for some reason, I wanted her to know. “Where did you move from?”
“Phoenix.”
“Ah. Bet you’re missing the warm weather right about now.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I don’t mind the snow. My mother, on the other hand, was not made for Montana winters.”
“Is that why she left?”
“It was the reason she could articulate,” Ilsa said. “It was easier to blame the seasons and a tiny town and a remote cabin for her leaving.”
“What was the real reason?”
“I don’t know if she ever figured that out. But if I had to guess, I’d say, deep down, she and Dad were very different people. And when you put love on one side of the scale and their differences on the other, no matter what, they were never going to balance.”
“That’s the harsh reality of life, isn’t it? That love alone isn’t enough.”
“I hope you’re wrong about that,” Ilsa whispered. “I hope that when love is real, it’s always enough.”
Considering the only time I’d convinced myself I was in love, I’d been a teenager, I was no expert.
The lights of Dalton glinted ahead, drawing an end to our conversation. Probably good timing. I didn’t need to be talking about relationships and love with Ilsa.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
She shrugged. “The motel, I guess.”
The motel? Well, fuck. I’d assumed that while I’d been trekking through the woods, she’d called a friend and found a place to stay.
My grip on the wheel tightened as my foot let up on the gas, just a bit. “The motel is closed.”
Her entire body jerked. “W-what?”
“The owners spend January and February in Palm Desert.”
“But their sign says vacancy.”
“Yeah, they never change it.”
“Of course they don’t.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit.”
“We can radio a friend.”
“I don’t have any friends in Dalton.” Her dry, humorless laugh sounded a lot like the one Mom gave at times. The times right before she burst into tears.
I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing Ilsa cry tonight. Not when I should have done more to stop this in the first place.
She swallowed hard. “If you could take me back, I’d appreciate it.”
“You’re not staying in that cabin.” Not until I was sure it was safe.
“If I can get my car unburied or Dad’s truck started, I’ll drive to Helena. Stay at a motel there.”
“And school tomorrow?”
“I don’t mind getting up early.”
Helena was over an hour away when the roads were clear. But in the middle of winter, after a massive storm? It could take her two.
Not an option. So I kept driving.
Toward home.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I turned off the highway and onto Pine Street.
“You can crash at my place.”
“What? No. That’s . . .” She shook her head. “That’s too much of an inconvenience. If you need to get home to Spencer, maybe your deputy can drive me back to the cabin.”
I tapped the button on the garage remote hooked to my visor, slowing as I pulled into the driveway. “You’re not going home.”
“But—”
“It’s either here or I’m sure there’s a cot free at the station.” I parked, facing her as I shut off the Bronco. “You could probably bunk in the cell beside Jackie’s.”
The glare she shot me was lethal. There was the spark, that fire in her brown eyes. And damn if it didn’t make her even prettier. I hit the garage remote again to close it behind us and opened my door.
“Sheriff Raynes—”
“Cosi.” What the hell was it going to take to get her to use my first name?
“You’re the sheriff. And you’re my student’s parent.”
“Both true statements. Neither of which means you can’t crash in my guest bedroom.”
She didn’t move.
“It’s late.” I waved her out of the Bronco. “Let’s argue about this after we’ve both slept for a few hours.”
Still nothing. God, she was stubborn. I wished I didn’t like it.
“Fine. Stay out here.” I took her bag from the back seat and carried it to the side door.
I was three steps onto the sidewalk when I heard the truck’s door open, then close. Then her footsteps sounded behind me, and I bit back a grin as I led the way to the front door.
Fitting my key into the lock, I walked inside, waiting for her to join me in the entryway before I closed out the cold. I set down her duffel and unzipped my coat to hang it on a hook.
She eyed the bag as if she was about to snatch it and bolt outside.
“Ilsa. Please,” I murmured, my voice low.
Her gaze lifted to mine. Her mouth parted and something flashed across her expression, but in the darkness of the house, it was impossible to make out. She looked away too fast, dropping her chin as she set down her purse, briefcase and that jar to unfasten her coat.
I didn’t analyze why I liked seeing it hanging on the hook beside mine.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
But she had nowhere else to go, and I wasn’t taking her home.
So I picked up her bag and led the way to the guest bedroom, turning on the overhead light as I set her duffel inside the door.
“My mom stays in here whenever she’s watching Spencer and I’ve got to work late.
Sheets are clean. There’s an extra quilt in the closet if you get cold.
Bathroom is down the hall. It’s Spencer’s, but he’s used to sharing.
And he just cleaned it after dinner as part of his chores.
Towels are in the cupboard. Make yourself at home. ”
Ilsa glanced into the room but didn’t move out of the hallway as she hugged her purse, briefcase and jar tighter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the motel was closed, and I’ve only been here for a month and haven’t really had a chance to make friends.”
“The only person with an apology to make is me. I should have taken your calls more seriously. That’s my fuckup, not yours. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze lifted, her pretty eyes filled with exhaustion and frustration and fear. It was a dagger to the heart. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying on it as a lock of hair slipped free, falling across her temple.
My hand lifted automatically, fingers splayed to push those strands off her face. Except this woman wasn’t mine to touch.
I raked the hand through my own hair instead, clearing my throat as I took a step away. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”
She nodded, slipping into the bedroom and easing the door closed, the light dimming as it swung shut. Except before I could retreat to my end of the house, she opened it again and whispered my name. “Cosi?”
I shouldn’t like the way it sounded. Not this much.
Yeah, this was a horrible fucking idea. There was no maybe about it.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
I dipped my chin. “Good night, Miss Poe.”
A faint smile ghosted her lips. “Good night, Sheriff Raynes.”