Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
When we’re finally loading up the last of our gear, the sun is spilling over the Bitterroots. I’m hungry and exhausted, but the normal calm I’d experience after fighting a fire eludes me.
Someone purposefully set that house on fire. Did they do it to make sure whoever was inside didn’t make it out alive?
“Linden!”
Annaleise Bell is waving frantically from behind the police perimeter.
My thoughts go to Meg. Shit. Did something happen?
I hurry over, worry twisting my gut. “Is Meg okay?”
Her eyes flash with surprise, but she recovers quickly. “Did an arsonist start this fire?”
Only then do I remember Annaleise is a reporter. Sure enough, the cell phone clutched in her hand has the voice recorder app open.
Gritting my teeth, I spin on my heel and walk back to the engine. Once I’m inside the cab, Hickman pulls away from the curb. Scotty jerks his chin in the direction of the crowd hovering outside the barricade. “You need a reminder of our public affairs policy?”
“I thought—” I stop myself. “Never mind.”
He arches an eyebrow, but I ignore him.
Back at the station, I check my phone, but there’s no text from Meg. I drag my thumb down my grit-caked chin. I need a shower and food, but the craving to hear her voice is clawing at my chest like a wild animal.
Fuck this.
I don’t know what’s happening here, and hell if I have any clue what to do about it.
After stuffing my phone back in my locker, I head for the showers.
Twenty minutes later, when I punch through the doors with my gear bag over my shoulder, Will Hayes is right on my heels. I’ve been so lost in my stupid thoughts I haven’t taken time to check in with him.
“Big plans today?” I ask when he falls in next to me.
He gives me a sideways glance. “House stuff. Probably swim some laps. Dinner with Zach’s family.”
“Where do you swim?” I ask.
“Community pool.”
“You ever want to try long distance, the lake is great in the summer.”
“Yeah maybe.” He’s quiet for a beat. “That was intense today.”
“I don’t know what they taught you in the academy, but fighting fire is pretty rare.”
“How rare is a dead body?”
“In conjunction with a fire? Maybe once or twice in a career.”
He nods. “There wasn’t anything else we could have done for her, was there?”
“No.”
He releases a full breath, puffing his cheeks.
“You ever need to talk?—”
“I don’t,” he interrupts, then runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. My sister in law is a shrink. I love her, but I’ve talked enough to last me several lifetimes.”
I chuckle. “Understood. Permit me to offer one piece of advice?” I squint at him. “One you are free to ignore.”
He cracks a smile. “Shoot.”
“This job will get to you. When it does, the best thing you can do for yourself is to find a couple of outlets. Healthy outlets. Sports. Getting outside. Projects.” I arch an eyebrow. “Companionship.”
“I’m getting a puppy.” His eyes sparkle, like he’s dishing me shit.
“Animals are great.” It’s true, and yet…I decide to push him a little. “But sometimes you need a two-way conversation. With a friend. Or…a partner.” I could say girlfriend , but I don’t know this kid.
His playful expression turns serious. “The girl I came home for,” he huffs a massive sigh, “found someone else.”
I wince. “Ouch.”
He gives a stoic shrug.
“Then find a friend if you need to talk. Or one of the guys.” I jerk my chin toward the station behind us. “Hell, my door is always open.”
“Thanks,” he says with a nod.
“It’s tempting to bury those feelings...” I slip my keys from my pocket. “Don’t.”
“Understood.” With a nod, he turns toward a silver Volkswagen hatchback.
That he shared something personal means he’s either learning to trust me, or he’s not as guarded as I first thought. Either way, I respect him for opening up to me. That takes guts.
Once I get home and inside, I drop my gear, slip on a pair of trunks, and grab my swim buoy. I don’t glance at Meg’s things still in my guest room or look for her outside on her deck.
I simply plow into the cold water and kick off from the shore.
By early afternoon, I’m back to tackling the dock renovation, the warm sun heating my back, when my phone chirps.
I wipe my brow with the back of my wrist and adjust my baseball cap before answering.
“Got a sec?” Ev asks, all business.
I set down my crowbar and rock backwards to sit, letting my legs dangle into the gap. “What’s up?”
He huffs a tight breath. “We got an ID on that victim.”
“That was fast.”
“It’s Trina Guthrie,” he says.
A shock wave tears through me. “Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Any idea…how?” The second I ask it, I want to snatch the words back. I do not need to know the details of Trina’s death. It’ll just add horror to the nightmares that are surely coming.
But it’s no surprise Everett doesn’t offer them. This isn’t a social call.
“I’m trying to trace her movements,” he says. “She was spotted at Annaleise’s party. Did you see her there?”
“Briefly.” I squint an eye shut, trying to remember the time. “Maybe around ten, ten thirty. She was with Stacy. Have you talked to her?”
“Did they leave with anyone?” he asks instead of answering. Typical cop.
“Not that I saw.” Out on the lake, a pair of mergansers take off, their wings a dark blur. “They were hanging with a crowd I don’t know. Later on, they were with Vance and one of his newest minions.”
“Vance was there? ”
I skip the part where I was ready to snap his arm in half. “He hit on Meg.”
“Shit.” He releases another tense breath. “Anyone else you saw them with?”
“No. We left soon after I uh—” I adjust my hat. “After that.”
“Trina and Stacy were also at The Limelight that night Meg had that scuffle with her ex. But they vanished the minute they saw me.”
“News flash. You’re a cop. Most people avoid you. Ever hear of self-preservation?”
“But I wasn’t on duty that night,” Ev insists.
“Once arrested, twice shy, you feel me?” A soft breeze stirs the pines edging the lake and scuffs the water’s surface. “I haven’t seen Trina in years. I thought she moved away?”
“She did,” Everett murmurs, like he’s lost in thought.
I’m glad I’m not in his shoes. This story is going from bad to worse.
“Did you talk to her at that party?” he asks.
“She invited me to her support group.” I’m glad he can’t see my face, because he’d know there’s more.
Just because Trina escaped the same cult that Everett and I did doesn’t mean I engage in casual conversation about it with anyone. Not even with my brother. He was too little to remember the three weeks we spent with Sons of Eden, and I plan to keep it that way.
“Let me guess, you declined?” Everett asks easily, like he didn’t just stab me with a hot poker.
“Affirmative.”
“Any chance Meg’s ex was at this party, too?”
“No.” My thoughts screech to a halt. “Wait, why would you think that?”
“I need to talk to Meg,” he says, ignoring my question .
I pinch the bridge of my nose because I know what he’s about to ask me.
“Do you think you two could come down to the station? Meg’s not exactly mobile yet. I could come pick her up, or...”
I sigh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” he says.
We end the call and I wipe my brow with the back of my wrist. Great. Exactly the opposite of where I’d like to be today—the police station. Again.
When I climb the steps to Meg’s deck with the duffel bag of her things and her bedside table, she’s sitting inside at her kitchen counter in an oversized hoodie and running shorts, her laptop open. I knock on the glass.
We share a fleeting glance before she levers upright and swings over on her crutches. Today her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, the afternoon sun turning the blonde curls to a pearly white.
Is her hair as silky as it looks? What would it be like to?—
With a flip of the latch, Meg slides the door open, her pale blue eyes serious. “Hey. Want to come in?”
As if to underline her invitation, she rocks a half step back with the crutches. Her leg is looking better. The bruising is fading and it’s not nearly as swollen.
I step inside and close the slider. “Surprised you’re not out on the deck.”
“I’m working on the slide show for Dad’s party.”
We lock eyes. Is this the moment she’s going to tell me our fake date is off?
Before she can say anything, I carry the bedside table and the duffel bag inside.
“I heard about…what happened,” she says, meeting me at the base of the stairs. “Your brother called a little bit ago.” Her eyes tense and she wets her lips. “Was it awful?”
I look away. “How about I take these things back upstairs, and we can head to the station.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later, after putting her bedside table back in service, I go home for my truck and drive over.
Meg swings out her door and locks the deadbolt, then tucks her keys into a hip pack she’s slung across her shoulder like a messenger bag.
I’ve seen one of Greta’s friends with something similar.
Fuck I’m old. With a heavy sigh, I scratch my stubbled jaw.
I meet Meg at the passenger side, but it’s clear the ease we established days ago is gone because she bites her lip and tries to balance while sliding her crutches into the back.
So I grab her around the waist and lift her.
But when I set her down on the edge of the seat, her fingers close around the hem of my t-shirt. The gentle tension keeps me in place. It’s unnerving, but I manage not to break away.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I meet her gaze. “For what?”
“For what I said at the party. I didn’t know.”
I cock my head. Everyone at Finn River Fire & Rescue knows what went down with me and Vance, and I’m sure it spread outside the walls of the station, whispered on hushed tongues to girlfriends, wives, family members, who then told others.
Though this is just a guess because those months afterwards, I existed in a dull fog.
The only thing getting me out of bed was the promise of spending time with Greta.
And riding Jupiter, but even that wasn’t always enough.