Chapter 6
Six
Sloane
“Oh my God. Did you see that?”
I look up from my computer screen to glance at Carmi, who is doing homework at the kitchen island. Sully is at the ranch, and Pippa had some work to do at her auto shop.
“See what?”
She points at the play mat on the floor where I put Aspen down for some tummy time.
“She rolled over.”
Sure enough, my daughter is now lying on her back, little legs kicking and her hand firmly clasped around one of the toys hanging down from the mobile of her play mat.
I groan, digging my fingers into my eyes. They’re gritty from intensely staring at the screen for the better part of two days.
I snapped well over two-hundred pictures at the gorge on Kenelty Mountain on Friday. We were out there for several hours, but weren’t able to spot anything with the naked eye. My hopes are fixed on the images I took, but it’s taking a lot longer to zoom in as close as I can and scan every inch of every image. A bit like looking for Waldo, except I have no idea what exactly it is I’m looking for, or if anything is even there.
Yesterday, Chelsea was released and she and her mom went back home. Unfortunately, the girl wasn’t able to provide me with anything new. According to her mother, the doctor suggested Chelsea’s disconnected state is a result of the severe psychological trauma she endured and referred them to a psychiatrist in Kalispell.
So, as of right now, the only leads I have are the hairs—which were sent to the State Crime Lab in Missoula—Chelsea’s minimal recollections, and piles of images. Sadly, those are what have demanded my attention, and made me miss this milestone in my child’s development.
I suddenly find myself blinking against emotion, and slap my laptop shut before sliding off the chair onto the floor to join my daughter.
“Did you just roll over?” I coo at her upturned face. Drool is covering her little fist as she tries to shove her hand—toy and all—in her mouth. “Are you feeling pretty pleased with yourself?”
“Mm-gah.”
“Is that so?”
I smile through my tears as she launches into an animated litany of garbled sounds only she understands.
“You know what?” I announce as I get to my feet and pick my baby up. “We’re stuck inside while it’s a beautiful day out. Wanna go for a walk?”
“Sure!” Carmi agrees enthusiastically.
Anything to get out of the homework she already left to the last day of the weekend. As I’ve learned in the short time I’ve been here, my little cousin is not a fan of school, reminding me a lot of myself at that age.
“Can we go check out the new house?” she asks.
Sully mentioned the influx of trucks rumbling past the house are heading for the property in the back, which apparently belongs to Dan. I had no idea, but my uncle told me he’s building a house along the river.
For some reason, I’d always pictured Dan living at High Meadow forever. So hearing he’s building a place of his own immediately piqued my curiosity. Uncle Sully lived in one of the cabins at the ranch until he had a family and then he built this place, needing more room. I never really stopped to think maybe Dan has found someone he wants to start a family with.
There was no way I was going to ask Sully, but the first chance I had, I cornered Pippa. I tried to be casual about it, but I think she saw right through me. She mentioned he may have been seeing Shelby Vandermeer at some point—I remember her parents; they own the feedstore—but didn’t believe it was anything serious. I have to admit, that didn’t feel very good.
Still, I’m curious by nature—hence my chosen profession—so I take Carmi up on her suggestion.
“Sure, why not?”
It’s warm out, so I leave Aspen in her romper when I fit her into the baby sling, but I do rub some sunscreen on her legs and arms, and fit the little sun bonnet on her head for protection. She likes facing outward so she can kick her legs and wave her arms.
My daughter is a mover, even before she was born, she seemed to be in constant motion. She’s already rolling over and before you know it, she’ll be crawling all over the place. I get the feeling I’ll be having a hell of a time keeping her contained.
“Do you like fishing?” Carmi asks as we walk around the house to the back.
“Sure. Your dad used to take me all the time when I was younger. Taught me how to clean fish too.”
Carmi exaggerates a mock shudder and kicks at a small stone in her path.
“Why? You don’t like fishing?” I probe.
“Fishing’s fine, but not the cleaning part. Yuck.”
I grin as I let my eyes drift over the river. “Gotta clean ’em if you wanna eat them.”
“But doesn’t the blood bother you?”
I focus on my cousin.
“Not really. I mean, I don’t think about it, but I remember a friend in high school who would faint if she got a paper cut.” I veer into Carmi and bump her lightly. “What made you ask?”
“I dunno. I was thinking you probably can’t be a detective if blood bothers you.”
“Does it bother you?”
She makes a gagging sound that more than conveys her answer, and I wonder if perhaps she’d thought about becoming an investigator one day. In which case, I’d better not inform her there are much worse things than blood you can be confronted with. My mind is briefly transported back to the first autopsy I attended. Not a pleasant experience, and it doesn’t really get easier with time.
I hook my arm through hers as the sounds of construction get louder. The house can’t be too far.
“You know, I remember you used to hate broccoli when you were little, but you sure seemed to like it last night.” I give her a little squeeze. “We grow out of stuff when we get older. Who knows? Ten years from now the sight of blood may not bother you anymore.”
“I hope so.”
It’s hot out and there isn’t a lot of tree cover, so by the time we walk around the first truck parked along the side of the dirt road, Aspen is literally plastered against my front, and I am sweaty and gross. I’m tempted to turn around, but curiosity, as well as Carmi’s determined pace a few steps in front of me, drives me forward.
Until my young cousin stops abruptly and I almost bump into her.
“Wow,” she breathes.
When I follow her line of sight, I have to agree.
“Holy hotness.”
The house is not much of a house yet. The foundation is obviously in, but they’ve just begun to stack the giant logs that are apparently to make up the outside walls. A large crane sits beside the stack of lumber for the heavy lifting. The walls are two high and it looks like they’re in the process of adding the third layer of logs.
They , being five healthy, wide-shouldered, and shirtless men.
JD is the first one I pick out, he’s closest and has his back toward us, his dark, gleaming braid reaching below his shoulder blades. Wolff is easy to spot, since he’s facing our way and lifts a hand in greeting. I don’t know who the two guys in the baseball hats are, but I have no trouble identifying Dan. Even without his distinctive white cowboy hat, I’d like to think I could’ve picked him out based on physique alone. I’ve spent plenty of time fantasizing about that man’s body.
Then I watch as he pulls a rag from his back pocket, removes his hat, and wipes the sweat off his face and from his neck.
I tell myself it’s the heat making my knees buckle.
Dan
“Are you going to have a porch swing?”
“Maybe,” I mutter, fielding Carmi’s nonstop chatter.
But most of my attention is on Sloane, who is sitting on one of the logs, her arm protectively around the baby strapped to her chest. She throws her head back, laughing at something JD said, and I shove down a jab of jealousy at the uninhibited way she is around my friend, when around me I can sense her reservation.
When she picks up the bottle of water JD handed her and puts it to her lips, I can’t take my eyes off the long lines of her exposed neck. A thin layer of sweat makes her skin glisten and I imagine my tongue stroking up the slim column, tasting her.
Her throat moves as she swallows the water, and a drop clings to her plump bottom lip when she lifts the bottle away. I almost groan out loud when her tongue darts out, catching it right before it rolls down her chin.
Maybe I did make a sound, because suddenly she turns her head my way, her eyes wide and questioning.
“…Can I come pick it out?”
Carmi’s voice penetrates my real-time fantasy and acts like a cold shower. I force myself to tear my eyes from Sloane and look at the teenager.
“Pick what out?”
I’ve clearly missed some of what she said when she rolls her eyes at me.
“Your dog, silly.”
A dog?
“First let me finish building this house,” I tell the girl. “Then we’ll worry about whether or not I should get a dog.”
She shoves out her bottom lip in an impressive pout that does not go unnoticed by Sloane.
“All right, Carmi,” she intervenes as she gets to her feet. “This little one needs her nap, you and I both have work waiting, and I think it’s time for us to let these guys get back to building a house.”
I shove away from where I was leaning against my truck’s rear fender. I haven’t really had a chance to talk to Sloane since we got back on Friday. A lot has happened since then and I’m thankful I have the damn house to keep me busy, but I’m curious to know if she was able to see anything interesting on all those pictures she took.
Or so I tell myself.
“You guys get started,” I call out to the crew. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Sloane lifts her hand to the guys and starts walking. I fall into step beside her as Carmi skips ahead. I can feel Sloane’s glance in my direction and turn my head to look at her.
“Your house is going to be beautiful,” she shares.
“Thanks. I hope so.”
She beams a smile, and I have to shove my hands in my back pockets to resist the urge to touch her.
“How are you making out with those pictures? Find anything?”
I immediately regret changing the subject when her face falls.
“No. Nothing yet. I took so many, I’m only about two-thirds through.”
She did spend a lot of time making sure to get every possible angle, even going down on her stomach, hanging over the edge, while I held on to her ankles.
It would be too bad if her efforts didn’t net her something useful.
“Frustrating,” I commiserate.
Suddenly she stops in her tracks.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way back, you know.”
I open my mouth and immediately close it again, letting my eyes drift to Carmi, who is crouched at the edge of the river up ahead, poking a stick in the water.
“I didn’t mean—” she starts what I know is going to be some kind of apology, but I don’t let her finish.
“Jackson is in intensive care,” I find myself saying, giving voice to the dark cloud that’s been following me all weekend.
Yeah, if I didn’t have something to keep me physically busy, I think I would’ve come out of my skin.
I got the news Friday night when I found Thomas out on the porch again on my way to my cabin. He called me over and I could tell the old man was shaken. No sooner had I joined him when Ama came outside with a drink for him and a beer for me. I knew something bad had happened when she took a seat next to me.
“Jackson? What happened?”
Sloane grabs hold of my arm, and my eyes find hers. She knows he’s a friend.
“Saved up his meds and took ’em all at once Thursday night,” I bite off, still angry as hell.
She clamps a hand over her mouth and whispers, “Oh no…” before she seems lost for words.
Yeah, me too.
Over the years, since his mother and Jonas became an item, he and I had become friends. The first time I met him he was getting ready to start his special ops training. The unit he was assigned to was stationed at Fort Bragg, but he’d come to spend time at the ranch whenever he could.
Sloane isn’t pumping me for information, which tells me she’d probably already heard about Jackson’s medical discharge last year.
It was last December—two weeks before Christmas—we got word he’d been hurt while conducting an operation overseas. Jackson lost his right leg from right above the knee. I don’t think any of us know the details surrounding his injury, and it’s not likely we ever will, but after his release from the Womack Army Medical Center, Jackson went to a dark place.
For a while, he was in an inpatient, physical rehabilitation program at the Veterans Medical Center in Fort Harrison, right here in Montana. I visited him a couple of times but he made it clear he’d just as soon I didn’t come. I know both his mom and Jonas tried to get him to come back to the ranch, but he basically blew them off and ended up renting an apartment a few blocks from the medical center.
We’d all been worried about him, and as it turns out, with good reason.
“How is he?” she inquires
I shrug. “Alive. That’s as much as I know for now.”
Sloane gives my arm a squeeze before dropping her hand. I already miss the connection.
“Uncle Sully never mentioned anything, or I would’ve checked in with you.”
Ama pointed out it’s not common knowledge yet, mainly because his condition is uncertain at this time. They’d wanted me to know so I could keep an eye on Thomas during the night since Jonas and Alex were still in Helena, staying close to the hospital. I don’t think JD or even Wolff know yet. I ended up spending the past few nights in the spare bedroom at the ranch.
“It’s not really something that’s easy to talk about without feeling like you’re betraying a trust,” I point out.
She tilts her head and scrutinizes me.
“And yet you’re telling me?”
I shrug.
“You were always easy to talk to.”
About most things.