Chapter Ten
Monday morning, Sydney sat at the kitchen table, going over sales and smiled as she saw the ranch was doing well. The snow put a damper on things, but she was happy her horses were selling.
As she added up columns, her phone vibrated from the table. She picked it up to see Caysen’s number and butterflies took flight in her belly.
“Hello, Agent Anderson,” she said and grinned when he chuckled.
“Ms. Wright. How’s your day going?”
“I’m working on ordering supplies and making phone calls. Want to come help?”
“Not really.”
“How about coming to dinner?”
“I’d like that, but I don’t think it will be tonight.”
“No? Why not?”
“I take it you haven’t looked outside.”
“No. I’ve been too busy.” She stood, walked to the door, then stepped onto the porch to see snow piling up. “Oh, my! Okay, so I guess it won’t be tonight.”
“Another time for sure.”
“I’d like that, Caysen.”
“Me too.”
“Are you at the office?”
“On my way. I just wanted to say good morning.”
“Good morning to you. Please be careful out there.”
“I will. Talk soon.” He hung up.
Sydney sat down and grinned. She hoped he’d find her horse, and she couldn’t wait to see her mare again. She hoped she hadn’t suffered any, but once Sydney had her back home, she’d make sure she was given fresh oats and water.
“I hope whoever had her took care of her. Thieves.”
Once she finished ordering feed, she tackled the bookkeeping, then she’d get to work on payroll.
Since the men were paid every week, it was something she had to keep up on.
She had the best guys working for her and she was happy with all of them.
But she didn’t know what she’d do without Billy or Ezra for sure.
They knew this ranch inside and out and after her parents moved away, she took over with the help of those two men.
She knew she had to do the payroll for the bookstore too, but that was every two weeks.
Two hours later, she raised her arms above her head and stretched. After sitting in this chair for so long, she was sure her butt would never be the same.
“Why don’t you just work in the office?” she muttered.
The office had a big oak desk with a comfy leather chair, and windows to look out of, but she’d just never done it since it seemed to be her father’s domain.
She knew it was silly, but maybe one day she’d get past that.
The ranch was hers. Even if her name wasn’t on the deed, she knew she’d inherit it once her parents passed on.
Something she was definitely not looking forward to.
Pushing her chair back, she stood, walked to the fridge and removed a bottle of water.
She twisted off the cap and had a long drink, then walked to the door.
Opening it, she stepped onto the porch into the biting cold, but she loved this.
Cold weather was her kind of weather. Her father used to say there was something wrong with someone who loved the cold.
Sydney would tell him she could make herself a lot more comfortable in cold weather than in hot. If you’re hot, you can take all your clothes off and still be hot, but if you’re cold, you just layer up. She thought it made perfect sense.
Walking back to the fridge, she pulled open the freezer door to see what she could make tonight and was glad that Caysen had turned her invitation down because her freezer was almost empty.
She’d have to make a trip to the grocery store once the weather cleared.
She did have plenty of microwave dinners though.
She decided to take a shower, get something to eat, then relax the rest of the evening.
Once Caysen found her horse, maybe they wouldn’t have to hide their relationship. She knew he was great in bed, but she wanted more than just sex with him. Oh, she’d take the sex too, but she wanted to know the man, and she couldn’t wait.
After her shower, she pulled on a pair of lounge pants, along with a T-shirt. She wished she had one of Caysen’s so she could sleep in it. He always smelled so good. She might have to steal one of his T-shirts, she thought with a laugh.
Later as she finished watching a movie, she knew she had to eat something. She hated going to bed hungry and hoped the weather would clear tomorrow, but just as she had that thought, she heard ice hitting the windows.
“Damn, we do not need ice,” she muttered as she walked toward the kitchen.
After looking through the freezer… again, she slammed it shut, walked back to the living room and plopped onto the sofa. She flipped through the channels again until she stopped on Tombstone , one of her all-time favorite westerns.
Her stomach was protesting at the lack of food, so she knew she’d have to eat. She paused the movie, got up and made her way to the kitchen Once she did that, she opened the freezer and removed cream chipped beef, put it in the microwave, then made her way to the door.
As she looked out the back door, she smiled at the beautiful snow covering everything. She knew Billy and Ezra would take care of the horses and for that, she was grateful. She knew, without a doubt, they would make sure the horses were inside the barn.
****
As Case drove to work the next day, his phone buzzed. He tapped the steering wheel to answer.
“Agent Anderson.”
“Agent Anderson? It’s Brent Tillman. I want to come in and talk today.”
“That works. When can you make it?”
“I’ll leave now, if that’s okay.”
“Perfect. I’m almost at the office, so I’ll be there by the time you roll into town.”
“Alright.”
“If I’m not there yet, let someone know you’re waiting for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up, then pulled into the parking lot at the courthouse. After parking, he climbed out of the truck and paused to stare at the Glacier Mountains barely peeking through dark clouds.
“Shit,” he muttered, picturing heavy snow or worse, freezing rain. Cold fingers of wind whipped at his coat as he walked up the steps, then entered the courthouse, his thoughts drifting to paperwork and interviews he needed to wrap up.
An hour later, Case sat behind his desk, dim light slanting through venetian blinds, making stripes across his desk. No sign of Tillman. His jaw clenched. He had two active investigations, and he wanted to finish this one for Sydney.
The office door swung open. Case glanced up to see Brent Tillman’s shoulders hunched, small beads of sweat glinting on the young man’s brow even though it was below freezing outside. He looked as though he might bolt. Case pushed back his chair.
“Let’s head into the conference room. It’s more private.
” He gestured, and Tillman followed him past the rows of desks.
The conference room’s glass walls hummed with the warm air blowing from vents.
Case pushed the glass door closed. He crossed his arms and leaned against the glass as Tillman sank into a chair, eyes flicking around the room.
“What do you want to tell me?” Case’s voice was even but firm.
“I told you most of it. It was all Bobby’s doing—”
“You were there too, Brent.”
“I just drove the truck.”
“You were still there during a theft.”
Tillman swallowed. “It’s going to kill my mom if I go to jail.”
“If you cooperate, I’ll do my best to get you probation.”
“No jail time?”
“I can’t promise that, but I’m willing to testify for you, if you tell me everything.”
“I will.” His voice cracked.
Case nodded. “Alright. I’ll be right back. I need to get a recorder.”
An hour later, Case escorted Tillman back to the door, shook his pale, trembling hand, and watched the kid step out into the hallway.
Once at his desk, he let out a slow breath, already drafting the questions he’d use to pin this on Gibbs.
He looked at the file on Gibbs to get his lawyer’s name, then he called the man to have him bring Gibbs in tomorrow. Weather permitting.
The next afternoon sunlight slanted through the Venetian blinds, as Case reviewed his notes.
He glanced up at the muted hum of the fluorescent lights overhead and caught sight of Bobby Gibbs entering the department with an older man, sharp suit, and graying hair.
Case pushed back his leather swivel chair, its casters faintly scraping the linoleum, and rose to meet them.
“Mr. Altman? Agent Case Anderson,” he said, extending a hand. He flicked a look at Bobby; the teenager’s gaze was fixed on the floor tile, jaw tight. “Let’s go to the conference room.”
Case guided them to the glass door into the conference room where the glow of late afternoon pooled on a long mahogany table. He held the door open until they entered, then nodded toward the chairs.
“Both of you, take a seat.” From his T-shirt pocket he produced a small, silver recorder and set it on the polished surface, then he leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. His gaze shifted back to Bobby. “You’re under arrest for horse theft.”
The words barely left his mouth before Bobby shot up, the chair hitting the wall with a sharp squeal. “You have nothing on me,” he barked, hands clenched at his sides.
“Oh, but I do,” Case replied evenly. “I have the confession of the man who helped you.”
Bobby’s face paled. “Tillman wouldn’t say anything.”
Case cocked his head. “Who said it was Tillman?”
Mr. Altman lifted a hand. “Don’t say anything,” he murmured.
Bobby sank back into his seat and glared at Case as he flipped the recorder on and recited the Miranda rights in a calm, orderly voice. When he finished, he eyed Bobby again.
“Do you wish to remain silent? It’s your choice, but I’ll tell you now, Tillman’s already talking, and he’ll likely get a deal. You won’t.”
Mr. Altman cleared his throat. “This was Mr. Gibbs’s first offense—”