Chapter 13
Thirteen
Sloane
“Nita Isadore.”
I slide the missing person’s file from the Lake County Sheriff’s Office I printed off across Junior’s desk. A measly one-page report.
“Check the description of what she was last seen wearing,” I point out.
“That’s the jacket,” he observes.
The yellow winter jacket was described in great detail, including the unicorn zipper tab. The rest of her clothing matches what we found with the body. Even the long sleek hair as seen in the snapshot of the pretty, smiling girl matches. As soon as I looked at that picture, I knew the remains we found belong to Nita Isadore.
The single sheet of information lists the particulars on Nita, and the report made by the girl’s mother that her fifteen-year-old daughter had gone to the Quicksilver Express at the Exxon gas station in Pablo to pick up some milk and was never seen again.
A note at the bottom of the report stood out. One word; runaway, followed by a question mark.
“Now look at this one.”
The second report I hand over is the original, taken by the Confederated Tribal Police in Pablo. It is several pages long and far more detailed. Nita and her mom live in a trailer home only two blocks from the gas station. According to these additional notes, Nita was a good student, worked part time on Friday nights and Saturdays at the hair salon in town where her mother works. According to the woman, her daughter had ambitions to become a beautician.
A few handwritten notes show the few steps tribal police took to find the girl, but not much appears to have come of it. There were no official searches done.
“They wrote her off,” my boss observes.
The same thing I was thinking. She was labeled a runaway, despite anything even remotely suggesting that might’ve been the case. It doesn’t even look like they talked to anyone but the mother and the clerk at the gas station store.
The tribal police did go through the steps of sharing the report with not only the Lake County Sheriff’s Office, but neighboring Ronan and Polson Police Departments as well. It was the Sheriff’s Office that uploaded the information to the Montana Department of Justice Missing Persons Database, which is where I found the one-page report.
“I called Lake County, talked to the current sheriff, who’s only been in office since the spring after his predecessor died of a heart attack. He wasn’t aware of the case until I told him. Long story short, he was able to locate the original full report sent to them by the tribal police and faxed it to me.”
“They had some major changes in Lake County late last year,” Ewing shares as he flips through the pages. “The county withdrew from Public Law 280, and therefore the responsibility for funding and policing tribal lands fell squarely back on the shoulders of tribal police. I think this file may have fallen through the cracks during that transition.”
Although, I appreciate the background, the fact remains the report of a missing girl was basically filed away without a second look. Call me a cynic, but I suspect the fact she happened to be Native American may have played into that.
“Yup. Sheriff Lee promised to email me a link to the files with the security camera feed from the Exxon station. It’s a miracle they actually obtained that evidence, let alone saved it on their server. Although, I’m not sure how helpful it’s going to be. There’s a note in the report saying nothing notable was found, but I plan to check for myself.”
“Good. Let me see what I can do to get a hold of the girl’s dental records,” Junior offers. “I have a contact with the CSKT who might be able to help.”
The CSKT stands for Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, which governs the Flathead Reservation. Tribal police would fall under that umbrella as well, and would be more appropriate for them to pay the mother a visit, rather than having me call her out of the blue.
I’m instantly relieved, although it does make me feel like a bit of a coward. Calling family members wouldn’t be my choice—especially with potentially devastating news—but driving to Pablo and back would’ve cost me a whole day.
“Thank you.”
As I walk out the door, he calls me back.
“Sloane? Before I forget, I’ve got a cadaver dog team coming in after the weekend. Jillian Lederman is also an experienced rock climber and specializes in searching rough terrain, but it still wouldn’t be a bad idea to loop the HMT boys in. At least let them know what’s going on in their backyard.”
“I already talked to Jonas this morning,” I inform him. “He’s offering to go over location and terrain with the cadaver team.”
I get a thumbs-up and duck down the hall.
I also addressed the issue of a written arrangement regarding the cabin, which was met with some resistance. Jonas insisted he wasn’t going to take rent from me, and I was equally firm when I told him I would find another place where I’d be allowed to pay my own way. Jonas seemed a bit taken aback, and old Mr. Harvey—who’d been listening in on our conversation—cackled heartily at the expense of his son.
We did end up coming to an agreement, which was basically a month-to-month arrangement, with thirty days’ notice, and a rent of seven-hundred dollars a month. It took a while to get to that amount since Jonas started off countering my suggestion of fifteen hundred—which is an average rent in Libby—with the ridiculous offer of fifty bucks a week.
We hammered it out in the end and shook on it. The handshake was my concession when Jonas balked at official paperwork. The move is supposed to take place this weekend before Mom gets here on Sunday, which means I’ll have my hands full this weekend.
On my way to my cubicle, I bump into Frank Schmidt and Jason Heany, two of our deputies.
“Didn’t take you long to weasel your way into the boss’s good graces, did it?” Frank challenges me. “What was it…all of a week? You may wanna wipe the dirt off your knees.”
I was prepared to ignore him. It’s nothing new and ignoring it is more effective than any reaction. I got this kind of stuff in Billings when I first joined the PD, and aside from that, I remember Frank from my time as a deputy here. He didn’t particularly like me then and made it known.
But Jason seems offended on my behalf and feels the need to intervene, throwing Frank an elbow.
“Cut it out with that bullshit. And you know that’s exactly what it is—bullshit. If Ewing hears you, he’ll have your ass.”
“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Frank swings on him. “She’s got you pussy-whipped already too?”
“Schmidt. My office,” I hear Ewing bark behind me.
This is going from bad to worse. None of this is going to help me deal with the likes of Frank Schmidt. In fact, this will only serve to make him hate me more. From what I understand, he had his eye on the new position I was hired for, and feels passed over by someone with less years on the job and a female to boot.
I’m pretty sure he’s not the only one whose nose is out of joint. After all, this is rural Montana and it’s still mostly a good-old-boys’ club out here.
Frank shoots me a dirty look and purposely brushes my shoulder as he passes me.
“Sorry about that,” Jason apologizes when the other deputy disappears into the sheriff’s office.
“Not your problem,” I assure him. “Nor is it mine. The fact he’s a misogynistic asshole is all on him.”
With that I head to my desk, stuff my copies of the missing persons file in my backpack, and head for the door.
“Heading home?” Betty calls out when I pass the open door to her office.
“Yeah, but I’m around, I’ll be working from home, so call if you need me.”
I’ll be working, but I’ll also be packing up Aspen and my things. I’ll be moving to the ranch this weekend and Mom is getting in on Sunday. I’ve got a lot going on, but hopefully after the weekend things will settle down a bit.
When I get behind the wheel of the Jeep, I quickly call Pippa.
“I’m on my way. Do you need anything from town?”
“No. I was just about to call you to see how long you’d be. We’re heading over to Nella and Fletch’s for dinner. Do you want to come?”
“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to pass. I’ll quickly pick up something for myself and be home shortly. I’ve got some stuff to do tonight.”
“No rush. See you in a bit.”
I’m thinking pizza.
Maybe I’ll get an extra-large one, pick up some beers as well.
Dan
Not bad for two guys putting in a day’s work.
We’ve got the mudroom and the downstairs full bathroom right next to it framed in. We were also able to get a head start on the small walk-in pantry on the opposite side of the kitchen. If we can get up the two walls of the family room at the back of the house tomorrow, I’ll be a happy camper. It’ll leave two days to make a dent in the upstairs. I have three bedrooms, one bath on the left, and then the primary suite to the right of the stairway to frame. That’s never gonna get done in two days, but there’s always next weekend.
That reminds me, I need to confirm with the window contractor to see if he has all my windows and doors. He’s scheduled to be here on Monday, but he was supposed to confirm. Once he’s done and the house is sealed, I can get the electrician in here. The sooner the better. I’m limited to working during daylight, but once I have electricity, I’ll be able to work at night as well.
“Looks pretty good,” JD shares when he walks in.
He’s been helping me load the power tools in the back of my pickup truck, which is, unfortunately, something we’ll have to do until I can store them here safely.
“Yeah, we made good time.”
I pick up one side of the compressor while he lifts the other end, and we carry it outside. Once loaded, I close the tailgate and close and click down the cover.
“Is that all?”
“You left your cooler on the porch,” JD points out.
Right. Ama had it ready and packed with food and drinks this morning when I was heading out. I brought a couple of camping chairs and we sat out on the porch for our lunch break.
“I’ll grab it.”
I start heading up the porch steps when I hear JD behind me.
“Looks like you’ve got company.”
I swing around and see a familiar Jeep coming up the driveway.
I watch as Sloane pulls up next to my pickup and gets out. I notice her cheeks look a little flushed.
“Hey.”
“Hi. I took a chance and brought pizza and beer. But both will keep if I’m interrupting something,” she quickly adds.
“No interruption,” JD answers for me. “I’ve got plans tonight, so I was on my way out.”
He doesn’t mention those plans are with his couch and a baseball game on TV, like he told me earlier, but I’m not about to out him. Not when he’s doing me a favor by making himself scarce. Any of the other guys might’ve stuck around on purpose, just to piss me off.
“If you’re sure…there’s plenty for everyone,” Sloane assures him, grabbing a large pizza box and a six-pack of beer from the passenger seat.
“Nope, I’m outta here.” Then he turns to me. “I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning. I’ll grab us some breakfast.”
I clap him on the shoulder.
“Thanks, man. Appreciated.”
As JD heads for his truck, a loud wail comes from the Jeep’s back seat. She brought Aspen.
Sloane has her hands full, so I pull open the back door, finding the little one with her face scrunched up, loudly voicing her displeasure.
“What’s going on in here? Momma put you in the car and then forgot about you?” I spout nonsense at her as I struggle to get the damn seat belts off her. “Well, we’re gonna fix that, aren’t we?”
When I’m finally able to lift her out of the car and settle her against my shoulder, her crying stops immediately. Sloane is standing by the stairs, a grin on her face.
“Hope you don’t mind I brought her.”
“Why would I mind?” I pass her and carry Aspen up the steps to the porch, where I sit down in one of the camping chairs, rearranging the baby on my lap.
Sloane joins me, setting the pizza box on the cooler between the two chairs. Then she peels a beer from the six-pack and offers it to me, before placing the remaining ones by my feet.
“The family is over at Fletch and Nella’s, but I didn’t feel up to it. It’s more of a beer and pizza night with my feet up.”
“So sit,” I prompt her.
“Just let me grab her stuff from the car.”
I watch as she pauses by the front door opening, leaning inside.
“Oh wow, I can’t believe how much of a house it already is. It went up so much faster than I thought it would.”
“It’s because it comes like a building kit. It’s just a matter of following the instructions and fitting the right pieces together. Still, it’s only a shell—walls and a roof—which looks good from a distance, but it’s a far cry from being habitable. There’s a ton of work left to be done before you can call it a house.”
“Be that as it may,” she returns with a smile over her shoulder as she continues to her vehicle. “What is here is already stunning. I can only imagine what it’ll look like when it’s finished.”
I like that she likes it. I like it a lot, even though I force myself not to get carried away.
She returns a moment later with Aspen’s car seat and a diaper bag. Then she plucks the baby off my lap and lifts her over her head, smiling at her as tiny hands grab for her face.
“You can sit with us while we eat, okay, Nugget? Mommy brought you a nice cold ring to chew on.”
She blows a raspberry in the baby’s neck that has the little one smiling wide, before plopping her in her seat. The promised ring is quickly produced and Aspen grabs for it with both hands, shoving it in her drooling mouth.
“Teething?”
“Is she ever,” Sloane acknowledges, dropping down in the other chair with a deep sigh. “Well, we should probably eat before she gets fussy again.”
The pizza is good, loaded with protein and other great stuff. We talk while we eat. Mostly I ask questions and Sloane tells me about her case. The little one eventually falls asleep in her seat around the time she apparently goes to bed normally.
It’s nice, sharing some food and a beer, talking effortlessly about random stuff, and even the silences are comfortable with Sloane. If you ask me, this date beats sitting at a fancy restaurant or going to a movie. I’m relaxed, she’s relaxed, and nothing beats this view.
With only two slices left in the box, I slide down in my chair, full and sated, as I stretch my legs in front of me and watch as the setting sun gives the river and the mountains a deep golden hue.
“Gorgeous,” she whispers beside me.
“Yes,” I agree, as I glance over and catch her eyes.
When I reach out to her, she places her hand in mine without hesitation. I close my fingers around hers.
“Thank you for this. It’s a perfect way to end an exhausting but productive day.”
“Yeah,” she returns as her eyes drift back to the view, but her hand stays clasped in mine. “It’s just what I needed. I haven’t felt this relaxed in months.”
There’s a lot to be read in that statement, but for now I’m content taking it as a compliment.
When darkness finally wins, she slips her hand from mine and pushes up out of her chair.
“I should get going. Get this little monkey tucked into bed.”
“I’ll take her,” I offer, when she reaches for the car seat.
I carry Aspen to the Jeep and secure her seat in the back. I leave the buckling in to her mother and wait for her to be done. Instead of opening the driver’s door for Sloane, I box her in against the car, bracing my arms on either side of her and leaning my body close.
She doesn’t resist, in fact, her eyes almost hold a challenge.
Well, I’ve never been the type to back down from one.
When I kiss her this time, I’m not trying to make a point, I’m staking a claim. My lips bruise and my tongue takes charge, as I pin her against the side of the car using only my body.
She moans down my throat when I force my leg between hers and roll my hips. I can feel her heat through my jeans and enjoy a moment of triumph when she rocks her hips, rubbing her core against my thigh.
This .
There is nothing like the feeling of exhilaration when dominance is willingly conceded. All the more meaningful from someone as strong and powerful as Sloane.
The reason I keep my hands from touching her is because I know the moment I do, the balance of power shifts. For now, I prefer holding on to it.
Which is why I let her ride my thigh until I can feel her body tense as her fingers dig into my ass. Then I abruptly end the kiss and remove my leg from between hers. Her eyes are glassy and her cheeks are flushed, but she doesn’t look happy I left her hanging.
“Drive safe,” I tell her, before she has a chance to gather herself.
“Fine,” is her short answer.
I open the door and wait for her to get in behind the wheel before closing it. Then I step back as she starts the Jeep. She backs up a few feet and then stops, rolling down her window.
“I forgot to mention,” she calls out. “We’re going to be neighbors. I’m moving into Fletch’s old cabin on Sunday.” She smiles. “I’ll be right next door.”
Shit . It’ll be impossible for me to resist her when I know she’s only a few feet away.
I watch her taillights disappear and wonder who’s actually in control here.