Chapter 7
Gunner was just leaving Crossroads when he got a phone call from Dylan. He guessed he was going to get chewed out for not telling him what was going on and braced himself as he answered via Bluetooth.
“Hey, Dylan, what’s up?” he said.
Dylan snorted in his ear. “You tell me.”
“Who ratted me out?” Gunner said.
“Dad, and then he was upset thinking he’d said something out of turn.”
Gunner sighed. “I’ll make it right with him, and I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t say anything because I did not want you in the middle of it.”
“I assume Asher knows,” Dylan said.
“Only because it’s sort of a big deal for someone to put out a hit and a bounty to go with it on an officer of the law.
His boss is on it. I’ve already been shot at once and missed.
The hit is being called off because I put the fear of God in the man who did it, but I didn’t want to hang around Dallas and get shot because the hunters hadn’t been called off. ”
Dylan groaned. “Oh my God. Gunner. You don’t have to work another day in your life now. Get out of that business before it swallows you whole.”
“Already in the process,” Gunner said. “I have plans…and I’m moving back to Crossroads. Dad’s giving me a place to build on his property back up in the hills behind the house and bar.”
“Thank God,” Dylan said. “Does your boss know this?”
“Not yet, but he will when I go back to get my car out of the body shop.”
“What happened to your car?” Dylan asked.
Gunner related the purple Yamaha story again.
Dylan took a breath. “Okay then. Who’s building your house?”
“Hell if I know. We’re in the middle of nowhere out there. Probably some construction company out of Amarillo.”
“I wish I could,” Dylan said.
Gunner smiled. “I wish you could, too, but you can’t drag a whole crew of men and equipment that far from Austin for the months it will take to make that happen, so let go of that.”
Dylan laughed. “You’re right. But just for the record, no more secrets, okay?”
“Deal. Also, hello to Angie and my nephew,” he said, then refocused on the big sign notating the way to the Dillon Ranch and took the turn.
The moment he turned north, the thought of seeing Holly again made his heart skip.
He recognized the crash site almost instantly when he drove up on it.
It was the sparkling bits of glass shining in the grass and on the blacktop that gave it away, and he wondered how long it would take for the Dillon family to travel this road without thinking, This is where she died.
For Gunner, his last memory of his mother was when he was seven and she dropped them off at school.
He never saw her again, and for years, he thought she’d left because she didn’t want them anymore.
Now, his memory of her was vague. Shadowy images of incidents and moments of joy with her and his brothers that became faded by time.
There were no pictures of her anywhere. And he didn’t care.
He couldn’t even remember what she looked like.
Only that her selfish choices had blown up the family they’d had.
He kept driving with an eye on the road and soon saw the ranch house and all of the outbuildings in the distance. His eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun, and he wished he’d brought his sunglasses, then remembered they were still in his other vehicle. The one in the body shop back in Dallas.
A couple of minutes later, he pulled up to the house and got out. The front door opened before he reached the steps, and Holly walked out.
The last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a pantsuit and makeup.
Today, there was no makeup, just pure beauty—a picture in motion, and he was thinking how perfectly she fit the image of a rancher’s daughter.
Bootcut jeans, the Ropers on her feet, and the loose summer blouse the wind had plastered to her curves.
But it was that fiery crown of misbehaving curls framing that beautiful face that made his heart skip a beat.
“You came,” she said.
“I could never tell you no. Seeing you sitting in the dugout at baseball practice, sneaking the last two Fritos in my snack, or drinking the last of my pop I left sitting there.” He walked up the steps, opened his arms, and she walked into his waiting hug.
Curls beneath his chin. Her cheek against his chest. He could feel her shaking as he finally let her go.
“Thank you for coming, Gunner. Shall we go inside out of the heat? I’ll pay you back with a whole cold pop of your own.”
The side of his mouth tilted upward. The only sign of the smile bursting inside him. “Lead the way, lady.”
A few minutes later, they were sitting on one of the sofas and facing each other.
Condensation was forming on the outside of the cold drinks, and a plate of cookies was on the table beside them.
Gunner could see she needed to talk, but he’d conducted enough interrogations to guess she didn’t know where to start.
“Talk to me. I’m really good at keeping a confidence,” he said.
Holly picked at a piece of lint on her jeans, and then her shoulders slumped.
“This isn’t a secret, but it’s also not public knowledge…
yet. Sheriff Reddick was here with autopsy results we weren’t expecting.
Mom had a massive heart attack. Her foot was still on the gas, but she was already dead when Lee Peters came over the hill and hit her.
And he didn’t see her because he was texting his girlfriend.
If he’d just looked up in time, he could have swerved. But he didn’t.”
Gunner was stunned. “My God! I have seen all kinds of freak accidents, but nothing like that. It must have been a shock to all of you…and to the Peters family. But the question is… How does it make you feel?”
“Relieved. All this time I kept imagining in that split second before they collided, knowing she was going to die… Imagining her fear and despair, you know? If that was her day to die, somehow, the sudden death she didn’t see coming seems like the blessing.
I still feel so bad for the Peters boy, but at the same time, it wasn’t Mom’s fault that he hit her.
It’s all such a horrible mess, and I’m dreading the funeral. ”
Gunner reached for her hand. “Honey, every funeral is its own level of hell. What you’re feeling is what everybody feels when they’ve lost someone they love, no matter why or how.”
Holly sighed. “I forgot you work in Homicide. I guess you’ve seen your share of death.”
He nodded. “The worst part is always notifying the next of kin, and then trying to find out who killed them. All of my cases are murders.”
“How do you do it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Focus. Mind over matter.” He sighed. “That’s a lie. But finding the killer always helps. And then before you can dwell, there’s another call out or two, and you don’t have time for someone else’s grief because you’re trying to find out what happened to the next victim.”
“Everybody says you’re really good at it,” Holly said.
Gunner’s only comment was noncommittal. “I was raised to do a job right the first time.”
Holly kept looking at him—at the steady gaze in his dark eyes and the stubborn cut to his jaw—and knew in her heart he was a keeper, but would he ever see her that way?
Impulsively, she took a cookie from the plate beside them and handed it to him. “Granny made them, and I owe you. They have chocolate and toffee bits in them.”
Gunner grinned. “First time I ever got paid in cookies.” He took a bite, chewed, and then his eyes widened. “These are good!”
“Yes, they are,” Holly said. “Mom was a great baker, too. Granny was a good teacher.”
“What about you? What do you like to do for fun?” Gunner asked.
“I don’t know what I do for fun. I work. I get takeout. I go home to TV and bed. I like to bake, but I don’t have anyone to bake for, and I’d just sit there and get fat eating it all myself.”
He grinned. “I nominate myself as your official taster if the urge happens again.”
Holly smiled. “Maybe when we get back to Dallas.”
He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then took a drink.
She frowned. His lack of response wasn’t promising. “I wasn’t hinting for anything,” she said.
“It’s not that. I made a recent decision to get out of the cop business. For a number of reasons. Bottom line, I’m not going back. I’m moving home to Crossroads and building a house up on the rise above our house.”
She gasped. “Oh wow!”
“Don’t say anything yet. I need to notify my boss first before it becomes public knowledge.”
“Right! Oh Gunner, how awesome. I have wanted to do that, too. I even talked about it with Mom once, but we finally agreed that jobs in real estate are scarce here, even in Amarillo.”
“You know Garrett would love it if you came home.”
“Yes, but then I’d be that girl again, asking Daddy for money, and I think I’ve outgrown that era of my life,” she said.
He wanted to unload his plans and dreams, and tell her about the lottery win, but it was too soon, and there was the funeral to get through. First things, first. Instead, he threaded his fingers through hers.
“You never know what your future will bring, but I’d love it if you’d keep me in it.”
Holly’s heart skipped. “Count on it.”
All of a sudden, there was a lot of shouting outside.
They both glanced out the window overlooking the barns and stables and saw a horse running hell-bent for leather toward the cattle guard, which they all knew he could clear without breaking a sweat, and men running after it spinning loops to try and rope it before it got away.
Gunner bolted out the front door, outpacing the horse’s angle of escape, and blocked the path, waving his arms high above his head to distract it.
The stallion reared up on his hind legs, then pawed the ground, but Gunner didn’t budge and kept waving him back.