Chapter 10
Ten
Dan
I can see the tension etched on her face.
It’s a heavy load to carry, stumbling on a case like this fresh on the job. Especially since I know Sloane is eager to show her mettle.
“Want more coffee?” I hold up the kettle.
She shakes her head. “I won’t sleep.” Then she changes her mind. “Oh, what the hell, hit me up. I’m so exhausted, I don’t think there’s anything that can keep me awake once I go horizontal.”
We just had dinner, although I don’t think Sloane ate much. A couple of MREs that only required hot water, and I always pack a small tin of coffee and my camping percolator with my gear when we head into the mountains.
We’re sitting on a couple of logs I dragged to the small fire I built to boil the water. Not the most comfortable seats but they’ll do. At least the radiant heat from the fire is welcome since, now the sun is down, the chill is starting to set back in.
Sloane gives me her thermos and I top up her coffee before handing it back.
“Sorry, I know you normally take cream and sugar. Didn’t think to bring it.”
She waves me off. “This is fine. I’m grateful you thought to bring coffee.” Then she takes a sip and chuckles at herself. “Actually, you’ll probably be the grateful one tomorrow morning. I’m a bit of a bear without my morning coffee.”
“You don’t say,” I mumble under my breath, as I get up to toss the last log on. “Which reminds me, I should probably chop some more wood now so we have enough to boil water tomorrow morning.”
“Are you being a smart-ass?”
I glance over and grin at her, before grabbing the small hatchet and one of the flashlights. Then I move around the tent to the edge of the clearing to a couple of dead trees I’ve been able to get dry wood from. I lay the flashlight on the trunk of one so I can see what I’m doing, when the light catches the plastic of the body bag twenty feet back.
Sloane didn’t feel right leaving the body behind, despite the fact we’ll have to haul it right back to the rock wall tomorrow morning. She claims it’s because she doesn’t want to leave what is now considered evidence unguarded. I think in handling the remains, what was the abstract concept of a body became what was once a living, breathing, young girl.
The glimpse of the black bag is a stark reminder of our purpose here.
Glancing over my shoulder, I can still see Sloane sitting in the glow of the fire, her hands wrapped around the thermos of coffee, staring into space.
I built the firepit in front of the tent which we set up to face the creek. The hammock is secured between two trees, close to where the horses are tied down but set back a bit so I can keep an eye on things with one side and the front of the tent in view.
Not that I think there’s anything to worry about—other than perhaps inquisitive wildlife—but it gives me peace of mind.
It doesn’t take me long to have enough wood chopped for tomorrow morning. When I return to the fire with my arms full of wood, Sloane barely acknowledges me. She’s either deep in thought or half asleep. After I stack the logs beside the pit, we sit in silence for a while, with only the sounds of the babbling creek, the woods around us, and the occasional snap of a hot coal.
Every so often I glance over at her, but she seems mesmerized by the dying flames. I can’t help wonder what is going on in her mind, which is really no different from any other day. I’d love to have a glimpse inside, maybe get some answers to questions that have been pestering me.
What the hell, I might as well. It’s not like she can walk away now.
“Why did you leave?”
It takes a moment for my question to register, but when it does, she turns to me with her mouth hanging open. She doesn’t look confused, she looks incredulous.
“Are you seriously asking me that now?”
I note she doesn’t seem to have any trouble knowing exactly what I’m referring to.
“Yeah, I am. And for the record, I tried to contact you for weeks after to get that answer, but you ignored me, so I eventually gave up. I may not have been too quick on the uptake, but even for me that was a bit more rejection than I was willing to take.”
The last thing I expect is for her to burst out laughing, but that’s exactly what she does. Literally bending over laughing.
I was curious before, but now I’m pissed, and suddenly the feelings of anger I carried around for far too many years are back. I’m about to let it all out but I don’t get the chance.
“That’s hilarious,” she sneers. “You being rejected? I think you’ve got it backward. Aging clearly has affected your memory.”
“Nothing wrong with my memory,” I scoff.
“No? So you remember you were the one telling me to go in the first place?”
Now I’m the one with my mouth open, except I’m genuinely confused.
“Bullshit. When did I do that?”
“After your mother’s funeral. You had too much to drink and I walked you back to the cabin.”
“I remember that, but I don’t remember telling you to go anywhere. I just remember you were suddenly gone without explanation.”
“Yeah, because you told me to take the job. That was after you kicked me out of your bed, buck naked,” she snarls.
I am literally dumbfounded. Mute, unable to form words, let alone speak them.
Surely, I would remember Sloane in my bed, naked. Christ, I’m getting a hard-on just at the visual image that creates.
“Wait,” I wrestle from my vocal cords when it looks like she might get up. “All I remember from that night is you walking me back and tucking me into bed.”
The reflection of the few flames remaining is visible in her glistening eyes, revealing a darkness I don’t recognize.
“I did,” she answers in a soft voice, lowering her gaze. “And the timing was probably off, but I needed to know if there was any chance before I accepted the job in Billings.”
It’s like a fist squeezing my chest as I try to process what she’s saying.
“Any chance of what?”
Her eyes lift and she studies me for a beat before sharing, “Any chance for you and me.”
What the fuck?
That fist tightens, making me want to hurl so bad I have to swallow down the bile.
“You asked me that?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
She shrugs. “Well, technically, after telling you about the job offer, I wanted to know if there was any reason for me to stay.”
“That’s not exactly the same.”
I must’ve been drunker than I recall, because I can’t for the life of me remember any such conversation.
“It was pretty obvious,” she counters. “Since I was not wearing any clothes when I asked you.”
“If that was the case, I must’ve been comatose because, even with a single functioning brain cell, there is no way in hell I’d ever kick you out of my bed.”
I lean forward with my forearms on my knees to make sure she hears me loud and clear.
“Naked or otherwise.”
Sloane
What just happened?
I scramble to my feet, moaning at the tight pinch of muscles all over my damn body. My heart is hammering in my chest. I need some air, some distance, so I can gather my thoughts.
Could it be…?
I give myself a mental shake; don’t go there.
Right now, I don’t trust myself to read his comments correctly. I’m too frazzled. If I let myself go there it would create a seismic shift, which would have me questioning everything. It would mean bitter regret, and eight years wasted.
No, I can’t think like that. How can there be any regret when I have a beautiful daughter I wouldn’t trade for anyone or anything?
Space. I need a little space.
“I think I’m going to wash up a little before I turn in,” I announce, trying not to look at him.
“Take the flashlight.”
His voice is soft, and I wonder whether these revelations shook him as much as they’ve shaken me.
I nod in response, and dart into the tent to grab my bar of biodegradable soap, a clean shirt and underwear, and my microfiber towel.
While Dan was hanging his hammock earlier, I explored a bit and discovered a large flat rock in the water a little upriver, just around the bend. I thought I’d get up early tomorrow morning to have a quick dip and a wash, but now is as good a time as any.
I need a few minutes alone to collect myself.
“Don’t go too far,” Dan calls after me.
“I won’t,” I promise.
Even with a flashlight, it’s a little creepy walking into the dark alone, but I don’t have far to go. As soon as I clear the tree cover on the other side of the bend, I notice it’s much lighter. When I look up to the sky, I see the clouds which gathered late this afternoon have cleared, giving the nearly full moon a chance to reflect off the water.
The rock I found earlier protrudes from the bank into the middle of the creek, which creates a bit of a shelter from view. I walk out onto the flat surface and drop my stuff, before quickly stripping down and slipping into the shallow water.
Holy fucking hell , that water’s cold.
My whole body puckers up, but it’s nice to be able to wash the worst of the sweat and the grime off me. Ducking my head under, I use the soap to give my hair a quick rinse. By the time that’s done, my body seems to have adjusted to the temperature and I let myself enjoy the buoyancy of the water for a bit. It feels good, soothes my tight muscles.
I’m leaning with my head back against the rock, my eyes closed, when a loud crash behind me has me surge up out of the water.
I scramble to my feet and blindly grab for the towel to cover myself, my eyes scanning the shore. The shadows are so dark, I can’t see shit beyond the tree line so I reach for the flashlight with my free hand. Of course I left my damn sidearm in the tent.
Some detective I am.
My only—rather weak—excuse is my discussion with Dan rattled me enough to forget.
“Sloane! Are you okay?” I hear him bellow. “Fuck. Sloane!”
Then I hear movement on the shore and aim the flashlight to find the source of the sound, only to see Dan’s large form burst from the trees. He has a gun in one hand and lifts his other hand to protect his eyes from the flashlight as he steps onto the rock. I immediately lower the beam and rush toward him.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know yet, I had to make sure you were all right.”
It’s not until his hand squeezes my very naked shoulder, I realize my state of undress. Nothing but a thin towel haphazardly held up in front of me in one clenched fist, barely covering my bits.
Wonderful.
Apparently, I haven’t lost the knack to embarrass myself in front of this man.
“I’m fine, but what was that crash?” I ask, eager to distract him.
My attempt is only partially successful as his eyes scan down my body. Then he clears his throat.
“Could be wildlife, could be anything.” His gaze comes up to meet mine. “Why don’t you put some clothes on and we can check it out.”
I suppress a shiver I’m not sure is from his scrutiny, or the chilled air. Either way, I should probably get dressed.
“Turn your back,” I tell him, because if I turn mine first, my ass is going to be on display.
He does as I ask immediately—always the gentleman—and I swing around, reaching for the pile of clothes. As I rush to get dressed, I feel a tingle of awareness running down my spine, and I wonder if he’s peeking.
The idea is tempting; Dan as a gentleman in public, but a beast in bed.
The crash turned out to be nothing more than a large, dead branch coming down, partly on the girl in the body bag.
It was sobering, a reminder someone died here, someone’s daughter. It certainly pushed all earlier thoughts from my mind.
So when I finally duck into the tent—by myself—it’s with the full weight of responsibility to find the person or persons responsible for whatever happened to this girl and to Chelsea Littleton. Because there’s no doubt in my mind the two are connected.
Exhausted, I crawl into the sleeping bag, noting the mat underneath isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’ll have to do for one night. I use the saddlebags as a lumpy pillow and pull the sleeping bag up under my chin. I close my eyes, and try not to think of my baby.
“Night, Sloane.”
His voice startles me, and I catch his shadow moving outside the tent in the lingering glow of the fire. It looks like he’s heading for the hammock, only twenty feet or so away.
“Night,” I call back.
Then I close my eyes again, and try not to think of Dan.