Chapter Eight
Sydney let out a deep sigh of relief as she eased her car into the driveway and finally reached the sanctuary of her home.
She shrugged off her coat and beanie, hanging them neatly on the entryway hooks.
The chill of the day clung to her skin, so she busied herself with kindling a fire in the hearth.
The flames crackled to life, casting a warm, golden glow over the room.
Satisfied, she padded back to the kitchen, where she prepared a steaming cup of hot chocolate, the rich aroma of cocoa wafting through the air.
Cradling the mug in her hands, she made her way to the living room, settled onto the plush sofa, and began flipping through channels in search of something to watch on TV.
The flickering light from the fire danced across the walls, and she hoped the power would hold through the storm. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d faced an outage, and if it happened, she’d be prepared, with the fire blazing and the couch serving as her makeshift bed.
Her thoughts wandered to Caysen, wondering if he was still at work. The weather outside was dreadful, with icy roads becoming more treacherous by the minute. Her concern prompted her to pick up her phone and send him a message.
Are you still at the department?
No. On my way home now.
You could stay here.
I have dogs, remember?
Yes. What are their names ?
Digger and Roo.
I love those. I’ll let you go. Please be careful.
Yes, ma’am. Talk soon.
I hope so.
I’m working on it, Sydney.
I didn’t mean about the horse.
Well, then I hope so too. Goodnight.
Night.
With a smile, she put her phone down on the coffee table, tucked her feet beneath her and wrapped the soft, comforting blanket around her shoulders, listening as the wind howled outside, rattling the windows and echoing through the night.
Anytime Sydney was stuck inside and knew she wouldn’t make it to town, she usually stayed up late to binge some of her favorite shows, but tonight she just didn’t feel like it. She wished that Caysen had stopped by, but she understood about his dogs.
“Digger and Roo,” she said, chuckling.
A while later, just as she got into a show, the power flickered then went out.
“Damn it,” she said as she got up and tossed more logs onto the fire. She had to keep the house warm. She had a generator but hated using it if she didn’t need to. She wasn’t even sure it had gas in it. “You know you’re supposed to keep it fueled, Sydney,” she chastised herself.
She picked up her phone to see the outages and it looked like most of Clifton was in darkness.
Glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner, she saw it was close to nine, so she got up, walked to her bedroom, picked up her pillow and blankets, then walked back to the living room and made up a bed on the sofa.
The fire would keep her warm, but she knew she’d have to keep getting up and adding logs to it.
Turning around, she saw she needed more logs brought in .
“Damn it.” She headed for the kitchen, using the flashlight on her phone and pulled her boots, coat, and beanie on before slipping out onto the porch. She gasped as the snow and sleet hit her in the face. “Sleet. Wonderful.”
She walked down the steps at the side of the porch to the log bin built onto the side of the house and gathered up an armful of logs, then carried them back to the living room.
She dropped them on the floor, went to get more, then returned with another armful.
After placing most of them inside the cubbyhole beside the hearth, she removed her outer clothes and boots, then wrapped the blanket around her.
It was bitterly cold and with the wind, she knew the temperature had to be well below freezing.
She hoped Caysen was alright and that he had made it home. She knew the roads were treacherous and there would, no doubt, be a ton of accidents.
Picking up her phone, she stared at it as she nibbled on her bottom lip. Should she text him to make sure? She was worried about him. With a sigh, she sent him a message.
Did you get home alright?
I just got here. The roads are a hazard.
I was worried. My power is out.
Mine is too but I have a generator.
I have one but I don’t think there’s any gas in it. The fireplace will keep me warm.
Mine is a whole house generator so I’m set.
Must be nice.
It is. You need one. Living in this area, you know power can go out anytime in the winter.
I’ll check into one. I just wanted to make sure you made it home safely and your dogs are okay.
They’re fine. I just have to keep them inside. They like the snow way too much.
Sydney grinned. I’ll let you go. Talk soon.
Yes, ma’am.
She liked him so much, and she’d love to get him into bed again, but he seemed to keep a distance. She knew he’d been angry about giving in, but they had chemistry, so why waste it?
“Because he wants to finish your case first.” She nodded. He had said they’d get to know each other after he found her horse, so she hoped he was on the right track. He would solve this; she knew he would. She had complete faith in him.
****
Tuesday morning’s pale light filtered through the blinds as Case stepped into the department, the soft hum of fluorescent bulbs greeting him.
He shrugged off his coat, and placed it, along with his Stetson on the hat rack behind his desk.
He slid his chair back on the vinyl floor, settled in, and booted up the computer.
The screen blinked awake, illuminating the stacks of manila files piled at the edges of his desk.
He tapped into the auctio n‐ house databases and let the soft whir of the hard drive fill the room while he searched for any sign of the missing horse.
By noon the stale scent of paper and printer ink hung in the air.
Case leafed through voluminous files, Gibbs’s land deeds, veterinary reports, as his stomach growled in muted protest. He wondered how long he’d wait for Tillman to show up.
If the young man remained absent, Case would once more drive out to the ranch himself.
He looked up as the glass door hissed open. A woman in her mid-forties stood framed by the entryway’s soft glare, her dark hair tucked behind one ear, worry lines creasing her forehead. She scanned the room, eyes sharp. Before Case could rise, another agent stood to greet her.
“I’m looking for Agent Caysen Anderson,” she announced, her voice firm enough to carry across the desks. Heads turned; a hush fell.
Case pushed back his chair and crossed the floor. “I’m Agent Anderson. How can I help you?”
She shot him with a piercing look. “Give my father back his horses.”
Murmurs rippled through the office; most agents sank back into their seats. Only Case’s two older brothers remained standing, arms crossed. Case motioned toward the worn leather visitor’s chair. “Please, ma’am, have a seat.”
She planted her feet. “I can say what I want from here.”
Case held her gaze. “You can, but you might not get the answer you’re looking for.” After a breath, she eased into the chair. Case circled his desk and sat, exchanging a nod with his brothers. They resumed their seats, leaving him and his visitor alone under the harsh ceiling lights.
“Mr. Cummings is your father?” Case asked, steepling his fingers.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Unless you’ve been confiscating horses for fun.”
Case raised an eyebrow. “And your name is?”
“Lois Bittner.” She leaned forward, the armchair creaking. “I don’t like what you did, Agent Anderson.”
“How about we discuss this over coffee down the street?”
Lois studied him for a long moment. Finally, she stood.
Case rose, pulled on his coat and hat, and led her to the elevator.
Neither spoke even as they descended to the lobby; silence trailed them out the door.
Outside, the winter breeze ruffled Lois’s coat.
Case took her elbow as they stepped down the front stoop, guiding her across the slick pavement.
He walked on the curb side, shielding her from traffic.
The diner’s neon sign buzzed above the door.
Case held it open, and they stepped into the cozy glow of vinyl booths and Formica tables.
The smell of brewing coffee and sizzling burgers wove through the chatter.
He pointed to a corner booth; Lois slid onto the red cushioned bench, folding her arms on the table. Case slid in across from her.
Connie appeared with her worn notepad. “What’ll it be?”
Lois didn’t hesitate: “Black coffee, please.” Case simply said, “Same.” Connie nodded and bustled away.
They sat in the diner’s warm hush until she returned, setting steaming mugs before them. Case lifted his cup, the porcelain warm in his hand, and sipped. Lois stared into her dark coffee as though searching for answers in its depths.
He cleared his throat. “I know you’re angry—”
“Oh, Agent Anderson,” she interrupted, voice low with emotion, “you have no idea.” Her hands clenched at the table’s edge. “Those horses were all my father had left. One was my mother’s.”
“I’ve gone over every detail,” he said gently, palms flat on the table. “Once I understood why your father was hitting the horse, I wished I’d handled things differently—”
“And you should have,” she snapped, eyes flashing.
“But I was doing my job. I’m a livestock agent, Ms. Bittner. I can’t ignore animal cruelty. I didn’t know his personal history with that horse.” He paused, hoping she’d hear the sincerity in his tone.
Lois lifted her gaze. “He told you, Agent Anderson.”
The little restaurant smelled of strong coffee, warm pastries, and the quiet hum of afternoon conversation.
Sunshine slanted through the front windows, even though snow swirled outside.
Case sat across from Lois Bittner at a scuffed black lacquered table, their drinks steaming between them.
Lois’s hands gripped her mug as if it were a lifeline; dark circles shadowed her eyes.