Chapter 12
twelve
. . .
FINN
As promised, sixty minutes later, Raider was clean, fed, and bedded down in his stall. I was freshly showered and dressed in my standard uniform of Carhartt pocket tee, my nicest pair of jeans, and favorite boots. I’d finished brushing my teeth and was applying deodorant when my front door opened.
Though no one in my family ever knocked when they came in, I knew it was West before I saw him. I could sense him through that “woo-woo twin shit” Lane liked to thumb his nose at.
“Ari in the guest house again?” he asked as I came out of the bathroom, meeting him in the center of my great room, the kitchen and dining room to my left.
Moving to the front windows, I flicked the curtain to the side. Sure enough, the lights in the house across the field glowed.
“Must be.”
“Wanna check on her before we leave?”
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head, swiping my wallet and keys off the sideboard by the door and stuffing them into my pockets. “She’ll be fine.”
Still, I shot her a text.
ME
House is open if you need anything that’s not over there.
ARIA
Love you.
ME
Love you too, Ari.
I grinned. I’d take “love you” over “thank you” any day.
“What’d she say?” West asked as we moved through the house in the direction of the door to the attached garage.
“That she loves me and I’m her favorite brother.”
West snorted. “Bullshit.”
“Okay, only half true. I’ll let you guess which half.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Get moving, baby bro.”
“Don’t call me that,” I mimicked as he said it.
With a laugh, he shoved me hard as we made our way to the truck.
On a Tuesday, the dirt-packed parking lot in front of the local bar was nearly empty. Tourist season wouldn’t kick up for another three weeks or so. The rest of Dusk Valley’s residents were home, enjoying some R&R, likely preparing for bed.
Trey was already there, climbing out of his SUV when West and I parked. We walked in together, pausing right inside the door to allow our eyes to adjust to the dimness. Four sets of eyes turned in our direction when the heavy wooden door slammed shut behind us.
Unsurprisingly, three men who were permanent fixtures in this place were seated side-by-side-by-side at the far end of the bar. Benny, the owner, stood on the bar’s other side, elbows leaned on the counter as he chatted with them.
“Well, well, well,” he said, moving to our end and placing napkins on the bar top in front of us as we took seats. “The brothers Lawless. You want IDs?”
We all murmured affirmation, and he quickly poured our beers.
“Normally don’t see you guys here on weeknights,” Benny mused. “I assume there’s a reason?”
Cutting right to the chase, Trey said, “I need your security footage.”
“I heard about that girl that went missing. Shame shit like that keeps happening in this town.”
“Shame shit like that keeps happening right outside your bar,” I growled. “First Aspen, now this woman?”
“Tell me, Benny,” Trey said almost conversationally, “am I going to find anything worthwhile on those exterior cameras I installed, or are they going to be as useless as they were when Aspen was taken?”
Benny, who was younger than us and had taken over the bar when his father passed last fall, didn’t particularly like me or my brothers. But he put up with us for two reasons.
First, my sister was an amazing fucking singer and brought in huge crowds every time she performed here. Fucking with us meant Aria taking her talents elsewhere, which wasn’t something his business could afford.
And second, he knew each of us could kick his ass with one hand tied behind our backs.
Hell, we could do it without any arms at all.
Even so, he sneered at Trey. “Pops never wanted those installed in the first place.”
That much was true. Exterior cameras on all local businesses was an ordinance the town council passed several years ago, when a string of break-ins and vandals had cost owners—and insurance companies—a lot of money in repairs and payouts.
The petty crimes dried up pretty quickly after that, and Trey signed a nice little contract to provide all the technology.
Still, quite a few of the business owners had rebelled in what little ways they could. Benny’s dad had been the worst offender of all, never bothering to turn the cameras on let alone allow them to record. Claimed it violated the privacy of his patrons.
We all knew the real reason was that he wanted to keep prying eyes away from the drug dealing business he ran out of the back room.
It had worked too. Lane and his department had failed to find enough evidence to arrest him before he died, and no one was sure if Benny had taken up the mantle or not.
“Answer the fucking question,” West said evenly, though his tone brooked no room for argument.
“They’re working,” Benny gritted out.
“Get me the footage,” Trey said.
In the interest of protecting the privacy people weren’t even entitled to in public spaces, Trey didn’t record any footage onto the servers at his house. That responsibility fell on the shoulders of the business owners.
Benny gave a curt nod and turned to head to the back, but Trey stopped him.
“Gonna need everything you’ve got from March seven years ago as well.”
Returning his attention to Trey, Benny’s eyes were wide. “There’s no fuckin’ way.”
“I’m sure there are old tapes or something around here somewhere,” Trey said with a wide, fake grin. “Your dad hadn’t always been such a pain in my ass about it.”
Benny sighed, dragging a hand down his face in obvious annoyance.
“Probably in the attic,” he mumbled.
“Great!” Trey said happily, jumping to his feet. “I’ll help.”
West and I muffled our snorts in our arms, occupying our mouths with twin swallows of our beers. We knew what Trey was doing, offering to go with, and Benny likely did too. Trey wasn’t giving him the option to dick around and pretend he didn’t find anything.
We had no time to waste, not when a woman’s life hung in the balance.
Two, if you considered what the loss of her twin would do to Reagan.
As a twin myself, it was fucking unimaginable.
Once Trey and Benny disappeared, West and I picked up our drinks and walked to the other end of the bar, pulling up stools at the corner perpendicular to the three grizzled men.
Rusty, Jim, and Dodger were indeterminate ages, though I guessed they were all north of sixty. They were a sure thing in this life. Like death and taxes, finding Rusty, Jim, and Dodger seated in this same spot in this bar on any given night was one thing you could count on.
“Boys,” Rusty grumbled, and the other two dipped their chins in acknowledgement.
“Look,” West started. “I’m not going to beat around the bush here. There’s a woman missing, and this is the last place she was seen. She’d been here last Tuesday night. You guys know anything about that?”
Dodger’s rheumy, bloodshot eyes narrowed in our direction.
“Buying us another round might jog our memories.”
I rolled my eyes but got up, went behind the bar, grabbed three bottles of Budweiser out of the cooler, uncapped them, and placed them in front of the men.
Each took a healthy drink, smacking their lips as they set them down.
“Now,” Jim started. “What’s this woman look like?”
Getting out my phone, I pulled up the photo Lane had sent, careful not to linger on it. Mistaking her for Reagan would be too goddamn easy.
“I remember her!” Rusty exclaimed. “Don’t get pretty little things like that in here much.”
“Was she with anyone?”
They all shook their heads, and Dodger said, “Sat in the corner by herself with a drink, playing on her little phone.”
“How did she seem?” I pressed. The fact that these guys even remembered seeing her was a miracle, but I supposed when you spent over half the day drunk, it became a natural state you learned to navigate the same way normal people navigated sobriety.
“Fine?” Jim supplied, like that was a silly question. “I wasn’t familiar enough with her to say any different.”
“How long was she here?”
“Couple hours. Had a few beers, nursing ‘em. Seemed to be killing time.”
Like she’d been waiting for someone, possibly?
I shifted my eyes to the side, sharing a look with West that told me he had a similar thought.
“Anything else you can remember?”
The three shook their heads in unison, and I nodded. The fact that they even recognized the photo was an impressive feat. At the very least, Lane now had visual confirmation she’d been here the night she went missing.
Still, the sheriff and his department had their work cut out for them—as did Trey.
Heavy footfalls echoed down the stairs at the back of the building, and Benny and Trey emerged from the hall a moment later. In his arms, Trey carried a stack of dusty banker’s boxes.
“Got the goods,” he said. “Benny was so helpful.”
“The fuck is this?” the man in question said as he moved back behind the bar, seeing the nearly full bottles in front of the old men alongside the empty ones. “Which one of you came behind my bar?”
All six of us—even Trey—raised our hands in similar gestures of, wasn’t me. Benny huffed, muttering and cursing under his breath about people acting like they owned the place.
“That’s our cue,” West murmured.
Trey and I nodded, and I said, “Well, thanks for your help,” clapping the old guys on the shoulders as I walked by.
“You too, Benny!” Trey threw over his shoulder as we headed outside.
When we were free from eavesdropping, Trey said, “I’d like to ring that fucking guy’s neck. If this wasn’t the only bar in town, I probably would.”
“We could help get rid of the body,” West supplied jokingly, holding his fist out, which I bumped with mine. “We’ve done it before.”
Without a doubt, Trey had as well, quietly and efficiently neutralizing threats to the President as part of his Secret Service detail.
“Let’s not take it that far,” Trey said diplomatically.
“There’s no reason, even if he is a pain in my ass.
” We reached his SUV, and he beeped open the hatch, shoving the box in beside the mobile command center he’d outfitted his vehicle with.
“The upside is there are tapes from seven years ago, but they’re only labeled with the year, so it’s going to take me some time to comb them. ”
“Surprised we haven’t heard from L—”
West hadn’t even been able to get our brother’s full name out before Trey’s phone rang, his name popping up.
Answering, Trey put it on speaker. “Sheriff.”
“You guys still at the bar?”
“Just leaving,” Trey said. “I’ve got the security footage from last week and the tapes from seven years ago.”
“Great,” Lane said. “How long do you think it’ll take to go through it all?”
“Well, like I just told Finn and West, they’re not organized in any way that makes sense beyond having the year on them. So first, I’m going to have to digitize them, then spend some time compiling everything chronologically. Could be a few weeks, could be a few months.”
“Months?” Lane asked, incredulous, and I had to admit, I was in agreement. “In months, Lainey Lindsey could be dead, Trey.”
“I’m going to work as fast as I can, you prick. That’s the best I can do.”
“Hand it all over, and I’ll send it up to Boise.”
“We could do that,” Trey conceded, “but that’s not going to make the process go any faster, and you wouldn’t be the first in line for information if anything pops. You know bringing the FBI in, even if it’s only Addie, makes it look like you can’t handle shit on your own.”
Lane growled in frustration, but only because he knew our big brother was right.
Letting Trey handle this was truly the best and fastest course of action.
“I don’t like this.”
“None of us do,” I piped in. “A woman is missing, and someone in our town is responsible.”
I fucking hated that revelation, knowing that, once again, a woman had come here and been targeted.
Aspen had survived, thanks in no small part to Crew, but Lainey was still out there somewhere—likely alive and being held against her will if Reagan’s gut feeling was anything to go on.
Though we weren’t law enforcement, we were the best chance she had at breaking free without the loss of her life.
The upside was that Trey, West, and I could operate outside the constraints of the law. Crew too, if he wanted to help. Knowing him, he’d be all in. That same strong desire to serve and protect the rest of us had also lived in him.
And I doubted we’d get Crew on board without Aspen offering to help as well, which wasn’t a bad thing, either.
“What did you and West dig up?” Lane asked me.
“Rusty, Jim, and Dodger recognized the photo. Couldn’t say much beyond confirming they saw her that night. Said she sat in the corner for a few hours, nursed a couple beers, played on her phone, but that was it. Sounds to me like she was waiting for someone or something.”
“Hopefully this footage,” Trey said, tapping the top of the box, sending dust flying, “will shed some light on that.”
“Hopefully,” Lane sighed, not sounding the least bit hopeful.
I didn’t envy him, being the one burdened when bad things happened to good people in his jurisdiction.
“We’ll find her,” I said. No, promised.
“Yeah,” Lane replied, seemingly unconvinced. “Well, keep me posted.”
He didn’t wait for a response before he hung up.
West and I said our goodbyes to Trey and made for my truck, heading back to the ranch. I dropped him off at his before heading home, unsurprised to find Aria in my living room, watching some reality TV show on my massive flat screen.
I changed into comfier clothes before joining her.
“Rough night?” she asked when I’d thrown myself onto the couch at her side, head tipping against the back.
“Not really,” I admitted. “Just been a long week. I can’t stop thinking about this missing woman.”
“Is it her…or her sister?”
I snorted. Truthfully, I was pretty fucking transparent when it came to Reagan Lindsey. Leave it to Aria to hone right in on the real issue.
“Both,” I said honestly. “I can’t imagine being in Reagan’s position, and…I care about her. Doesn’t make a lot of sense since I’ve never spent a full day with the woman, but I do. I’d do anything to make this right for her.”
Aria scooted closer and tucked herself into my side.
“You will, Finny.”
She sounded so sure, and I wasn’t about to refute her.
If Aria believed in me, the least I could do was make sure that belief wasn’t misplaced.