Chapter 20
twenty
. . .
REAGAN
Last week, when I’d gone in to meet Lane for an update on the case, I’d had every intention of hanging some missing person posters. I planned to offer a reward for any viable information provided, as long as it helped bring Lainey back.
But after I’d found that note on my car, all thoughts of anything else had flown from my mind.
Today, I was going to fix that.
After locking up the house, I headed straight for the library as Aspen had suggested.
When I pushed inside, I was instantly greeted by an older woman, her hair a gorgeous mix of white and grey, secured in a neat little bun at the base of her skull.
She wore a long, flowing white skirt, decorated in pale purple flowers, a matching sweater covering her upper half, feet stuffed into lavender orthopedic shoes.
“Hello, dear,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m Reagan Lindsey,” I said as I approached where she stood near the chest-height counter. “Aspen McKay sent me here for some help. Are you Ginny?”
“I am,” she said, smiling brightly. “Aspen is such a doll, isn’t she? This town owes her so much.”
“She’s great,” I agreed. “She’s helping me out with a case of my own, and told me I could come here to get some missing person fliers printed?”
She regarded me thoughtfully, mumbling my last name a few times, snapping her fingers when realization dawned. “Lindsey. Your sister is Lainey.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I was sorry to hear she went missing,” Ginny said, clasping my hands in hers. I was shocked by how warm her skin was, instantly soothing me.
“Thank you,” I replied awkwardly. What the fuck else was I supposed to say?
“Come, dear,” she said, leading me toward a room at the back of the library. The space was lined with tables, likely workspaces, and she beelined for one, pulling out two chairs and sitting down as I took the other. “What sort of leads do the police have?”
I didn’t get the sense she asked because she wanted to feed the rumor mill around town—which, as was the case in small towns, had likely been at work for the last several weeks, speculating about what happened to Lainey.
“At the moment, not much,” I admitted. “That’s why I want to hang up these posters.” I navigated into my phone and my Canva app, where I’d spent a few hours designing something eye-catching but informative.
My reward offering was a measly thousand dollars, the most I could spare at the moment, when work was fairly low on my list of priorities.
“Let’s get them printed then,” she said.
I spent a few minutes connecting to the wireless network and locating the printer, then Ginny and I went back and forth over how many I should print.
Ultimately, we decided on a hundred with the understanding that I could always come back and get more if need be.
While we waited for them to finish printing, she helped me create a list of local businesses with community boards that would let me hang them up, as well as suggesting I walk around the area and pass them out to residents.
“You know,” she said as we headed back out front, where she left me to go behind the desk and grab the sheaf of papers, “you should also run this as an ad in the paper. And think about joining a few of the local Facebook groups and sharing it there.”
“That’s a great idea,” I said, annoyed for not having thought of it myself. “I really appreciate all of your help, Ginny.”
“Of course, dear. Any friend of Aspen’s is a friend of mine.
And besides, we take care of our own around here.
That includes taking out the…trash,” she said diplomatically, though I caught her meaning.
Before handing the stack over to me, she asked, “Do you mind if I take a few? I’d love to hand them out to the girls at my knitting circle, and I’ll hang one up here. ”
“Be my guest,” I assured her, handing a handful over. “And I have another small favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, dear.”
“One second,” I told her, then ran out to my SUV. The sky overhead had darkened considerably while I’d been inside, the leaves on nearby trees flipped upside down, signaling an oncoming storm.
Grabbing the box, I went back in.
“What have we here?” she asked, gingerly lifting the lid.
“Photocopies of my sister’s journals. I was hoping to get another set to pass onto Aspen.”
“Of course,” Ginny said, taking the entire thing behind the circulation desk, setting it down on a chair, and lifting out the first rubber banded stack.
While she worked, I wandered. The library was homey, warm and welcoming, the scent of books wrapping around me comfortingly. The shelves seemed to stretch on endlessly, divided into easy to recognize sections.
I’d selected a book of poetry off the shelf in the non-fiction section and was thumbing through it when Ginny called for me.
My stack of papers had doubled in size, but thankfully, the bankers box I’d stored Lainey’s journal pages in was big enough to fit the second set.
“How much do I owe you?”
Ginny waved me off. “On the house.”
“Oh, no. Please, let me pay something.”
“Absolutely not,” she insisted. “You can repay me by bringing your sister home.”
I gave her a small, sad smile. “That’s all I want.” I held up the posters. “Thank you for this.”
“Of course, dear. Good luck out there.”
When she turned her back on me, I quickly stuffed the twenty I had in my pocket into the donation jar and took off before she could try to give it back.
The sky outside had gotten even darker, and the temperature had dropped considerably. If I wanted to get these posters up today, I needed to move quickly.
Inexplicably, that thought made me guilty as hell. How was it fair that I could continue to walk free, to enjoy the simple pleasures life offered, while she was locked in that creepy basement somewhere, waiting for me to find her?
With renewed vigor and purpose, I left my car parked and decided to walk, taking Ginny’s advice to knock on the doors of homes as I passed on my way toward the main strip of businesses.
A lot of my solicitations went unanswered, so I left fliers stuffed in door jambs. The few who did open their doors were kind, accepting the paper and promising to call me with any information.
The same could be said of the businesses in town, who all happily allowed me to hang posters on their community boards or right there on the front door.
Once that task was completed, I took the long way around back to my car, passing by more homes and passing out more papers, and stopping at lampposts to tape them up.
I was nearly back to my car when the sky opened up, dumping rain all over me. Doing my best to shield the posters from damage, I raced for my SUV and threw myself behind the wheel.
Safely inside, I tossed the remainder of the posters on the passenger seat then put the car in drive and headed toward the grocery store to restock on some essentials.
An hour later, I rolled to a stop in front of the house.
The rain hadn’t lessened, so I parked as close as I could, backing up so the hatch opened onto the porch.
Across the way, a big black truck with the Lawless Ranch logo on it pulled up in front of Finn’s.
He got out of the passenger seat, saying his goodbyes to whoever drove—the tint on the windows was too dark for me to see inside—before slamming the door.
The truck pulled away immediately after.
As if sensing my presence, I could practically feel Finn’s eyes find me from a hundred yards away and through the deluge, so I raised my arm in greeting before heading to the back hatch to get my groceries.
Naturally, he made his way over.
“I thought you had to work today,” I asked when he reached me, noting his navy cargo pants and matching tee. He looked like he’d been out on some sort of military mission, not working at the ranch.
The shirt clung to him indecently, outlining each ridge and hollow of his abdomen, suctioning to his biceps in a way that had me wanting to sink my teeth into them.
Damn, the man looked good wet. There was something so delicious about the way drops of water clung to his veiny forearms and plastered his hair to his forehead.
“Had something more important to take care of.”
I nodded, the comment not warranting a verbal response.
“Well,” I said awkwardly after several long moments passed. “I better get this stuff inside.”
“Here, let me help.”
“Oh, you don’t have—”
My words died as he ignored me, lifting a heavy, reusable grocery bag in each arm and moving toward the house.
Men.
I grabbed the remaining one and followed after him.
When I stepped inside, sliding the bag onto the peninsula, he said, “You know, if you don’t want to cook…tonight is family dinner, and my mom and sister have been begging me to invite you.”
His hand cupped the back of his neck, those damp biceps flexing and bulging, and I was momentarily lost in the show.
Remembering what they looked like when he was over me, holding himself up as he pumped his hips into me, his cock hitting that spot so deep…
“Reagan?”
“Sorry,” I said, dragging my eyes away from his muscles to his face, which was split wide open in a knowing grin. “What did you say?”
“Will you come to family dinner tonight?”
“Family dinner, as in…”
“The whole family,” he confirmed. “Well, minus Owen because he doesn’t live here. Like I said, Mama and Aria have been dying to meet you.”
“You told them about me?”
“You’ve come up in conversation.”
Something about that deeply pleased me, that he talked to his family about me. Likely only in the course of discussing my sister’s case, but still.
“I didn’t tell them anything specific about…
us, if that’s what you’re worried about.
” I hadn’t been, but appreciated the discretion nonetheless.
“I mean, of course my brothers know we, uh, hooked up all those years ago, but that’s it.
They’ve still given me endless shit about you since you came to town, but they don’t know what we’ve done or anything… ”
I grinned. “You’re cute when you ramble.”
“I’m not cute,” he argued. Once again, that hand found the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve seen you naked, for fuck’s sake.”
A laugh burst free from me, which seemed to ease the tension in Finn, because his arm fell and he smiled wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crease.
“So I can expect more of the endless ribbing like the night we met, then?”
He nodded. “You don’t have to come.”
“Hell no,” I said. “I look back on that night fondly. I don’t have any regrets. Do you?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Good, then I’ll see you tonight.”