Chapter 8 Person of Interest
Four days later
G age made his daily phone call to the Heart Lake Police Department right after lunch.
Fran answered. “Hey, Gage! Any big plans for the weekend?”
His thoughts immediately switched to Ella. “I’m thinking about inviting a friend to go paddleboarding on the lake.” He’d been wanting to do it ever since he’d moved to town. There just hadn’t been anyone he’d wanted to hang out with before now.
“Ooo,” the grandmotherly woman crooned. “A female friend or a male friend?”
He chuckled. “What’s this? An interrogation?”
“Yes. With a very uncooperative witness,” she crabbed. “Just for that, I’m transferring you to the sheriff. He won’t go as easy on you as I did.”
“Thanks for the warning.” The woman was a hoot.
Luke Hawling’s voice sounded across the line. “What’s so funny?”
“Fran.” Gage figured the guy was familiar enough with his own office manager for a single word to suffice.
“Say no more.” Luke sounded amused. Then he sobered. “There’s still no sign of Billy Bob Bolander. We’ve got his truck impounded, since it’s evidence, but my gut says he abandoned it right before he vamoosed out of town.”
“I’m not sure how far he’s gonna get without a truck and money.” The guy was an unemployed jail bird. Then again, whoever had paid him to rough up Ella at the diner might still be paying him to cause trouble.
“I paid a visit to Bolander & Sons Ranch,” Luke offered.
“When?”
“Few days ago. Right after we identified the grain truck that exploded as one of theirs. Get this. Creston Bolander is offering to pay for any damage to the vehicle you were driving at the time. Not sure how he found out it was you. For obvious reasons, we didn’t broadcast your and Ella’s names.”
“There was no damage to my Bronco.” Gage thought he’d made that clear already. “Not so much as a scratch. We were far enough away.” Thankfully.
“That’s what I told him, but he keeps calling, asking if he can personally apologize to you for a company truck almost running you off the road.”
“Why?” That made no sense to Gage.
“Not sure, but he’s being so persistent that I figured I’d pass the word on to you to see if you’d like to humor him.”
“He might only be prying into Ella’s whereabouts,” Gage warned.
“The thought crossed my mind,” the sheriff admitted, “but my gut says it’s more than that. We left your passenger out of the official report, and he hasn’t said one word to indicate he’s even aware you had a passenger. His sole aim appears to be getting face time with you.”
“Interesting,” Gage mused.
“I thought so, too.” Luke cleared his throat. “I offered to set up an appointment here at the police department, but he said a simple thank you didn’t qualify as official police business. Told him I’d let you know that he’s requesting to meet you.”
“Appreciate the heads up.” Creston Bolander didn’t strike Gage as a fellow who took no for an answer. If he wanted to speak to someone, he’d find a way. Until that happened, Gage intended to remain focused on the case. “Did you ever figure out how his unmanned truck almost plowed into me?”
“We’re still investigating it, but I can tell you this.” The sheriff’s voice grew hard. “A cinder block was resting on the gas pedal, and the steering wheel was jammed into place. My theory is that someone drove the truck to the crash site, sabotaged it, then escaped through the passenger door. We found skid marks where a four-wheeler took off.”
“Foul play, then.” Gage wasn’t surprised to hear it.
“Definitely foul play,” the sheriff agreed.
“Any fingerprints in the cab?” Gage pressed.
“Lots of ‘em,” Luke affirmed. “It was a company truck. We’re following every lead, and Creston Bolander is cooperating.”
Either that, or Mr. Bolander was pretending to. Gage was reserving the right to question everything and everyone at this point. “Did any of the fingerprints belong to Billy Bob?”
“Nope.”
Gage felt a stab of disappointment. “He could’ve worn gloves. ”
“We’re not ruling anyone out yet,” the sheriff assured. “In the meantime, it might not hurt to go ahead and give Creston Bolander a few minutes of your time.”
“In other words, don’t wait for him to call me, eh?”
“Something like that.” Though Luke sounded amused, Gage was betting he wouldn’t be pushing for such a meeting if he thought it would be a waste of time.
“Fine. I’ll set it up,” he acquiesced. “After I run it past Gil, of course.”
“Already did,” the sheriff drawled.
Of course, you did. The two of them were as thick as thieves. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Gil has been my mentor for years, and now he’s yours,” Luke retorted mildly. “Trust me. You’re very fortunate.”
“Agreed.”
“The appointment between you and Creston Bolander will take place this afternoon,” the sheriff continued in a sly voice. “In your office at Lonestar.”
Gage snorted. “You’re a funny guy.”
“I can be,” Luke agreed. “But I happen to be serious this time. Three o’clock sharp. Bolander wants to speak with you and you alone. No witnesses and no recordings.”
“It’s starting to sound like more than a simple thank you.” Gage wondered if his digging into the Bolanders’ background was what had gotten him on the guy’s radar. It probably wasn’t a good thing.
“Yep.” The sheriff sounded grim. “So put on your game face and stay sharp.”
“Will do.” Gage burned with curiosity and no small amount of foreboding. “Did he say if he was coming alone?”
“Nope, but there’s only one person I can imagine him bringing along. ”
Gage’s mind raced through the likeliest possibilities. “His older son?”
“Yep. The one that’s named after him. They call him by his middle name, Raleigh, to avoid any confusion. Hey, uh…” There was a murmur of voices in the background. “Gotta run, but good luck.”
Gage lowered his phone, knowing he was going to need more than luck for the upcoming meeting. He glanced around his sparsely furnished office that he’d never gotten around to decorating, trying to see it through a visitor’s eyes.
There was nothing hanging on the walls. No photos on his desk. Not so much as a cupholder resting on the small, round conference table on the side of the room.
He usually didn’t bother taking off his Stetson, not even when he was working. This afternoon was no exception to that. Plus, he was licensed to open carry his weapon, which he always did.
Because of his military training, he believed in being prepared for anything. He could also pack up and exit the room in seconds without leaving a trace that he’d ever been there.
That was the man Creston Bolander would see when he walked through the door.
A rap of knuckles sounded on the outside of his door, which was ajar. Gage swiveled his head toward the sound. “Hey, Gil!”
Gil Remington stepped into the room, smirking. “Could you really tell it was me by the sound of my knock?”
“Yep.” Most folks gave themselves away with small, innocuous tells like that — the things they did in the same way over and over again without realizing how easily it identified them.
“You never cease to amaze me.” Since Gil muttered the words beneath his breath, Gage pretended like he didn’t hear them.
“The sheriff tells me I have a visitor on the way.” He was interested in hearing Gil’s take on it.
His boss shut the door and moved across the room to grab the black vinyl chair resting in front of Gage’s desk. He twirled it around and straddled it. “Creston Bolander is demanding to see you alone. No cameras or recording devices. You don’t have to agree to it. We can renegotiate the terms when he arrives.”
“I’ll stick to his terms.” Gage wasn’t about to jeopardize his best opportunity yet to speak to someone who’d known Mick while growing up.
“I was afraid you’d say that.” Gil folded his arms on top of the chair, eyeing him with concern.
“I’m an Army Ranger. I’ve got this.” Gage wasn’t easily rattled, not even by cranky old rich people.
“There’s something I haven’t yet told you about the Bolanders,” Gil said slowly.
“Oh?” Gage leaned his forearms on his desk, anxious to sponge up every detail to be had on the topic.
“About twenty-five years ago, Creston Bolander’s wife divorced him because she claimed he’d been unfaithful to her.”
“I am aware.” Their divorce was a matter of public record.
“What you may not be aware of is that one of the women his ex-wife pointed a finger at was Mick’s mother.”
“You’re right.” Gage’s interest was thoroughly piqued. “I didn’t know that.”
“She couldn’t prove anything and ended up with a much smaller divorce settlement than she’d been hoping for.”
“No big surprise there.” Gage stretched his hands high over his head to crack his back. “I’ve yet to meet a person who was happy with their divorce settlement.”
“I hear you. That said, if you’ve ever put a photo of Mick Lawton side-by-side with Creston Bolander,” Gil dropped his voice a notch, “there’s a remarkable resemblance between them.”
Gage stared blankly at him. “Are you insinuating what I think you are?”
“Yep.”
He sat back in his chair. If Mick Lawton was the illegitimate son of Creston Bolander, it put the entire case in a different light. “Why are you just now telling me this?”
The retired sheriff waved a hand. “Never considered it my story to tell. Considering your friendship with Mick, I also figured you might already know.”
“I didn’t.” Gage had always been puzzled by Mick’s rather glib claim that he didn’t know who his father was. Maybe he had known, though, and maybe there were reasons he hadn’t been able to talk about it. Dangerous ones involving a massive corporate empire that was worth a fortune. “This is huge.”
Gil nodded gravely.
Gage felt his first spurt of fear. “If Mick is truly Creston Bolander’s son, and that’s a very big if, that would make Ella…” His granddaughter. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence out loud.
“I know.” Gil rocked his chair back on all fours. “Does this change your mind about the terms of your meeting with him this afternoon?”
“Nope.” It made Gage more determined than ever to hear what the man had to say. “Do you think there’s a chance Mr. Bolander might’ve taken his own son out of the picture?”
Gil stood. “If I did, I wouldn’t allow him inside the building.”
“Glad we got that out of the way.” Gage stood and faced his boss. He agreed it was illogical to assume Creston Bolander had anything to do with his illegitimate son’s death. If he hadn’t wanted the boy to live, the odds were that he would’ve done something about it a long time ago.
“Even though we’re agreeing to Creston’s terms, don’t forget about the panic button beneath your center drawer.” Gil pointed at Gage’s well-worn oak desk that probably qualified as an antique.
Gage nodded, though his prickling of panic had nothing to do with his own safety and everything to do with Ella’s. After Gil took off, he paced the room, marinating in his own thoughts, until the next knock sounded on his door.
Gage paused his pacing. “Come in.” Since it was three o’clock on the dot, he could only assume his VIP guest had arrived.
A white-haired gentleman stepped across the threshold. He was wearing stone-colored trousers and a pale blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. It was unbuttoned at the neck — no tie. He was alone.
Gage stood riveted in the center of the room. He might as well have been facing a twenty-year-older version of his late friend, Mick Lawton. He’d been hoping there was no truth to Gil’s shocking revelation, but the resemblance between the two men was undeniable. They were similar in height and build and shared the same silver-blue eyes.
For a moment, Gage felt like he was staring into his late friend’s piercing gaze again. He mechanically held out a hand and stepped forward. “Mr. Bolander.”
“Mr. Hefner.” Mr. Bolander shut the door behind him and closed the distance between them to grasp his hand. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He wasn’t smiling. Sadness was etched deep within his gaze and in the lines around his eyes.
Because I have. Gage sensed that this was the very reaction the man had been gunning for. “You look familiar, sir.” There was no point in beating around the bush. “Have we met?” He motioned for him to take a seat at the small conference table on the side of the room. His mind raced over everything Mick Lawton had told him about growing up at Bolander & Sons ranch —how he’d been raised by a single mom in one of the employee cabins there. She’d been employed as one of their master gardeners. For all Gage knew, she still worked there.
“No. I don’t believe we have.” Mr. Bolander walked to the table with the leisurely pace of a man who was accustomed to taking his time. He pulled out a chair. “You’ve met my son, though.” He took a seat.
Gage’s temper spiked, but he tamped down on it. “I don’t think Billy Bob enjoyed our meeting.” It was a leading statement, designed to get the conversation rolling as he pulled out a chair beside the guy. He turned it so he could sit facing him.
Mr. Bolander flicked a hand irritably. “I’m not talking about the black sheep of the family.” The corners of his mouth turned down in distaste. “I’m talking about Mick Lawton. At one point, he served as your company commander, did he not?” He sat forward in his chair, eyeing Gage intently.
So, it’s true. You’re his father. Gage’s head felt like it was exploding. “He did, sir. Later, he became my friend. A friend,” he repeated, “who died never knowing who his father was.” He wasn’t sure that was true, at least not on Mick’s part. He’d only said it so he could watch Mr. Bolander’s reaction to the statement.
To his astonishment, tears filled Mr. Bolander’s eyes. He took out a white, monogrammed handkerchief to mop them dry. “It’s a regret I’ll take to my grave.”
Gage was silent while the man finished collecting himself.
“I’ve been wanting to speak to you for months.” Mr. Bolander’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and continued, “But you aren’t an easy man to stumble into around town.” He spread his hands. “You don’t fish. You don’t golf. You don’t attend community events. All you do is target practice alone out there on those fifty acres you bought on the far side of town.” He snapped his fingers as if just remembering something. “Oh, and you go horseback riding once in a blue moon with Jordan Jacobson at the animal sanctuary.”
“You know an awful lot about me, sir.” Gage resisted the urge to squirm. Squirming was for amateurs.
Mr. Bolander’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t been watching me just as closely.”
It was true. Gage wanted to ask him why he’d ignored all of his phone calls, but it seemed like a moot point now. “What do you want from me, sir?” He had his suspicions, but he was curious to know if the guy would admit it.
“The same thing you want.” Mr. Bolander’s eyes grew as cold as glaciers. “To find Mick’s killer.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. Gage’s heart pounded in excitement, though all he did was incline his head to acknowledge the request. He didn’t miss the fact that Mr. Bolander was only asking for help to find Mick’s killer. He hadn’t said a word about the killer’s subsequent arrest. Was it because he had other plans for him? Or her? Or them?
Gage kept his voice neutral as he clarified, “I want justice for my friend, sir.”
“As do I.” Mr. Bolander’s smile was gruesome to behold. The predatory element would’ve sent chills down the back of a lesser man.
Gage wasn’t convinced that their respective definitions of justice were aligned, but he’d worry about that later. “Do you have any idea who was behind the hit?”
Mr. Bolander’s gaze narrowed. “That’s an interesting choice of words. Why call it a hit?”
“Because it was too clean.” It was the only thing that made sense to him. “The killer got in undetected, caught everyone by surprise, disappeared into thin air afterward without leaving a shred of forensic evidence, and remains in the wind five years later. If that’s not the textbook definition of a professional hit, I don’t know what is.”
“I happen to agree with your assessment.” Mr. Bolander continued to frown in contemplation. “The man behind it would’ve wanted to keep his own hands clean. Paying a hitman would’ve accomplished that.”
“You have someone in mind?” Gage wasn’t expecting him to show his hand so quickly.
“You don’t?” Creston Bolander’s voice grew testy. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”
It is? Gage eyed him curiously, wondering if he was about to point a finger at his youngest son.
“Oh, come on,” Mr. Bolander exploded. “The guy has been sabotaging my business for years. His latest escapade with one of my grain trucks is nothing new. I’m very sorry, by the way, that you were nearly run off the road.”
“It wasn’t your fault, sir.” Gage appreciated the apology, though. It was classy.
“It happened under my watch.” Mr. Bolander’s mouth twisted. “You’d think with the measures I have in place to protect my company and employees, that we’d be better insulated from stuff like this. And do you know the worst part about it?”
Gage shook his head, still not sure who he was accusing.
“He crashed my truck through one of his fences,” Mr. Bolander snarled. “So, even though this is all his doing, I’m having to foot the bill for the fence repairs.”
Ah. Since the official police report cited damage to a fence on Radcliffe Industries’ land, Gage perceived that Creston Bolander was holding the owner of his biggest competitor accountable — not only for the sabotaged truck but also for Mick’s death.
He decided to explore that theory with his next question. “Will you describe some of the measures you’ve put in place to protect you and your company from Radcliffe Industries?”
There was no hesitation on Mr. Bolander’s part. “A non-compete clause, for one thing.”
Gage waited for him to continue.
Mr. Bolander grunted. “I know the running joke in town is that coming to work for me is like working for the mafia, but Walker Radcliffe left me no choice. Everyone thinks he’s like a god, donating scads of money to the homeless, orphanages, battered women’s shelters, you name it. But before my attorneys added the non-compete clause to our employee contract, he was also using his money to lure my best employees away. The sign-on bonuses and pay raises he offered them to jump ship were downright ludicrous. He was trying to shut me down, and no one will convince me otherwise!”
That certainly explained the bad blood between the two families. “From what I understand, Mr. Radcliffe has the same clause in his employee contracts.” Gage was curious to see his reaction to that.
“A classic tit-for-tat move.” Mr. Bolander wagged a finger knowingly. “The man doesn’t have an original thought in his head. He begs, borrows, or steals all of my best ideas, repackages them, and calls them his own. If he didn’t have coffers of old family money at his disposal, he would’ve never made it in the granary business. My company has been outperforming his for years. The only customer contracts he’s ever beat me out of are the result of backstabbing and outright sabotage.”
“Those are strong words, Mr. Bolander.” Gage could practically feel the animosity rolling off of him.
Creston Bolander spread his hands. “My semi-truck didn’t drive itself off the road.”
It kind of did, but Gage knew what he meant. “Do you have any proof that Mr. Radcliffe was involved?” It didn’t matter how much the two men hated each other. Without proof, Mr. Bolander’s claims were going nowhere.
The aging rancher’s shoulders slumped. “That’s where you come in. I want you to get the evidence you need to prove, once and for all, that Radcliffe Industries has been going to criminal lengths for decades to harm my company. While you’re at it, I want you to help me prove that Walker Radcliffe ordered the hit on my son.”
Gage straightened in his seat. “That’s a tall order, sir.”
“One I’m confident you can handle, Ranger.” The faintest of twinkles entered Mr. Bolander’s gaze. “Not only do you want to catch Mick’s killer as badly as I do, you have the benefit of being an outsider. Someone who’s not steeped in small-town gossip and petty biases.” He stood, indicating their interview was coming to an end. “You’ll have full access to everything you need on my end, of course. My employees, my facilities, and my land. Here’s my cell number.” He pulled a business card out of the breast pocket of his dress shirt and held it out to Gage.
A feeling of awe swept over Gage as he accepted the business card. After being stonewalled at nearly every turn in his investigation into Mick’s murder, it felt like he was being handed a blank check to move forward. “Before we get started, sir, I have a few questions to ask you.”
Mr. Bolander’s shoulders tensed. “When I said I was giving you full license to do whatever it takes, I meant it, so ask away.”
Gage fired off his first question. “Did you know Billy Bob returned to town a couple of weeks ago?”
“Unfortunately.” Mr. Bolander sounded resigned. “He probably won’t stick around for long. He never does.”
It didn’t sound like he knew his youngest son had skipped town. “Next question.” Gage shot it off, not wanting to give the man too much time to think. “Who else knows that Mick Lawton was your son?”
Mr. Bolander briefly closed his eyes. “Officially? Only his mother, Betsy. Others suspected it, but they could never prove it.” He met Gage’s gaze unwaveringly. “There are no phone call records. No letters. Though she served as my master gardener for over fifty years, she hasn’t spoken a word to me since her retirement.”
“But people suspect the truth.” Gage was both appalled and fascinated by the ugly small-town secrets Mick’s death was forcing to the surface. “That alone could’ve put Mick in danger.” Mick’s true identity would’ve threatened the succession of Mr. Bolander’s estate. His other two sons might’ve objected to the idea of their father’s illegitimate son receiving some share of their forthcoming inheritance. His ex-wife might object, too.
“You think I don’t know that?” Mr. Bolander’s expression darkened. “That’s why I didn’t legitimize him. That way my own family wouldn’t view him as a threat. Everything was going fine until Mick started dating Avery. I’m telling you, there was murder in Walker Radcliffe’s eyes every time he looked at them together. As much as it pains me to say it, I was glad when Avery miscarried and divorced my son. If that makes me an awful person, then I’m an awful person. Because the moment those two kids went their separate ways, it took Mick out of Walker’s crosshairs.”
“What do you think put your son back in the crosshairs?” Gage agreed there were crosshairs in play. However, he wasn’t yet convinced that Mr. Bolander’s biggest corporate rival was the one holding the scope.
“Believe it or not, a rumor.” Mr. Bolander looked mildly sheepish.
“A rumor,” Gage repeated. Surely, the man understood that a rumor wasn’t likely to hold up in court.
“Yes, a rumor.” Creston Bolander’s voice grew defensive. “Some gossip surfaced online from Avery Radcliffe’s college years, which she spent in Spain. Gossip that speculates she didn’t miscarry Mick’s baby after their divorce like she claimed she did.”
Gage’s chest grew cold. “Interesting.”
“Eh, there’s probably nothing to it since Mick remarried.” Mr. Bolander slapped the air. “But you know how people are. They jump to conclusions and do stupid things. Ella Lawton could’ve easily laid those rumors to rest if she’d lived to tell the tale.”
“You think she’s dead?” Gage was careful to keep his voice neutral.
“That’s the general consensus.” Mr. Bolander’s jaw hardened. “Believe me, I’ve had private investigators looking into her whereabouts for five years straight. If she was alive, they would’ve found her.”
Gage nodded woodenly. Unless a very wealthy, very powerful woman had been using her resources to hide her daughter from the public eye, even changing her face to make her less recognizable.
Ella’s bank account, however, had been in her name alone. Had someone noticed it when she’d cleared it out and hit the road? Because whoever was paying Billy Bob Bolander to stalk her had somehow figured out that she was still alive. And now that they knew it, it was only a matter of time before others figured it out, too.
Mr. Bolander strode toward the door. “I’ll show myself out.”
Gage stared after him. “You’ll need to sign a few forms to reserve my services as a PI.”
Mr. Bolander paused at the door without turning around. “Send them to my attorney. I wrote his name and number on the back of my card.”
“You didn’t ask about the cost of hiring me, sir.” Gage couldn’t, in good conscience, let the man leave without knowing his financial obligations in the contract.
“I don’t care what it costs. I’ll spend whatever it takes to find my son’s killer, down to the last cent I own.” With that dire pronouncement, he pulled open the door and disappeared down the hallway .
Gage started to follow him, but the phone on his desk rang. Grimacing, he moved behind his desk to yank up the receiver and hold it to his ear. “Yes?” he barked.
It was his boss. “I want to hear everything while it’s hot off the grill.”
So Gage told him, right down to the part about how Creston Bolander didn’t seem to realize he was a person of interest in the very case he was hiring them to work. Or maybe he did.
“You’re gonna have to tell him about Ella,” Gil warned, “sooner rather than later. Keeping her from him will only erode his trust in you when her presence in Heart Lake becomes more widely known.”
Gage’s heart sank. He’d been afraid his boss was going to say something like that. “I’ll arrange an introduction between them if and only if she agrees to it. I won’t compromise her safety no matter whose tail feathers it ruffles.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Gil sounded approving. “As a Lonestar client, her personal security will remain our top priority every step of the way.”
Out of nowhere, a brainstorm hit Gage, instantly telling him what his next step should be. “I have an idea,” he drawled.
There was a pause on Gil’s end. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably.” Gage didn’t bother hiding his grin since no one could see it. “What I have in mind will either move the case forward or start a war.” He quickly briefed him on his plan.
Gil started guffawing.
“Like I said,” Gage repeated, “it’ll either be enlightening, or it’ll blow up in my face.”
The sound of clapping alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. He ended the call and swiveled toward the sound.
Johnny was lounged against his doorway. “Isn’t starting wars what you soldiers do?”
Gage glared at him, wondering how long he’d been eavesdropping on his call. “Nah, we leave that part up to the politicians.”
“Good point.” Johnny swaggered the rest of the way into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Gage gritted his teeth. “Why do you always do that?”
“Because it gets people’s attention. Wakes ‘em up.” Johnny rolled his shoulders to loosen them.
“Funny. I figured you just liked the sound it makes,” Gage grated out.
“That, too.” Johnny took a running leap onto the end of Gage’s desk, swinging his legs conversationally. “I have a proposition.”
“No.” Gage pointed at the door. He was in no mood for another bet, especially one his opponent was almost guaranteed to lose.
“You owe me a rematch,” Johnny argued. “I wore your stupid gas mask for over an hour yesterday. I earned the right to redeem myself.”
Gage wasn’t sure there was any redemption for the perpetual prankster. “I’m running out of ways to torture you.”
“Somehow, I doubt that,” Johnny chuckled. “So, here’s the deal.” He dropped his voice. “I’ve been doing a lot of hanging out with the locals lately?—”
“Code words for partying,” Gage interjected. “From what I’ve heard.”
“Lemme finish.” Johnny glanced toward the door. “ Get a load of what one of the Bolanders’ grain operators let slip after a few too many frothy beverages last night.”
Gage’s interest was thoroughly piqued. “Lay it on me.”
“There are two abandoned steel silos in one of the back pastures at Bolander & Sons.”
“Okay.” He wasn’t sure what was so big about that.
“The ranch hands swear it’s haunted.” Johnny looked fascinated by the notion.
Gage made a mental note to go check it out on his next visit to the ranch. “You’re telling me this because?”
“Because I want you to dare me to capture some video footage of an actual ghost.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Gage glanced toward his computer screen. He had real work to do that wasn’t going to do itself.
“You don’t think I can do it?” Johnny puffed out his chest. “Or are you afraid that I can?”
“I don’t believe in ghosts.” Gage’s interest in the conversation was fast waning. He sat at his desk and reached for his keyboard. He had emails to catch up on and a few reports to file.
“Then you’re at a very low risk of wearing my biggest belt buckle for a full twenty-four hours, including bedtime,” his coworker wheedled.
Gage flicked a bored look at him. “How big are we talking about?”
“Seven inches wide and just shy of five inches tall.” Johnny sounded smug. “Solid silver plate with a solid gold bucking bull on it.”
That was one massive belt buckle. It also sounded valuable. “One of your big wins, I assume?”
“My biggest win,” Johnny affirmed. “Since I couldn’t possibly top it, I retired the next day.” He hopped off of Gage’s desk. “Whelp. I’m off to go capture me a ghost. ”
“Good luck with that.” Gage didn’t look up as Johnny swaggered back toward the door.
“While I’m at it, you can be coming up with a suitable punishment if I lose again.” Johnny stepped through the doorway.
Gage gave him an exasperated look. “I haven’t yet agreed to—” He stopped talking when he saw the doorway was empty.
Johnny’s ghost hunt had already begun.