Chapter 27 Autumn
AUTUMN
Whatever snapped into place last night wasn’t going back. Dom had sautéed my heart, then served it back with a kind of care I hadn’t known existed. He knew what I was thinking, feeling, and wanting, and even what I was too afraid to say out loud.
We didn’t have to go all the way. We didn’t need to.
Because now I knew what it felt like to be met by someone who could be it, the person. And I knew, deep down, I wasn’t going to find that anywhere else.
While Lulu was holed up in what I loosely called “witness protection” with Mom, Dom and I headed for Hamilton, where the Ravalli County Sheriff’s Office was headquartered.
The sheriff’s jurisdiction covered Blodgett Pass, Buffaloberry Hill, and other smaller towns that relied on county deputies for law enforcement.
I pulled up the wefie we took this morning—me, Dom, and Lulu in front of Mom’s house.
“You okay?” he asked.
“A bit nervous. What should I say about the sketch of me? I mean, of course, it could’ve been anyone. But surely he’ll recognize how close I am to resembling her. And I was at Blodgett Pass Trail.”
“Let me do the talking. I’ll nod if you should answer. Just tell the truth. I know the sheriff. My good friend Noah and his wife got tangled in a messy case back then. Bozeman PD was involved, but the sheriff did right by us.”
“Noah and his wife live in Buffaloberry Hill?”
“Yes. And Claire, the vet, remember?”
“Right.”
“She’s Noah’s sister-in-law.”
“Ah, I see.” I exhaled, turning that over. “So the sheriff’s solid? No chance of him being bribed?”
Dom nodded. “By the book. Slow sometimes, but that’s just the pace out here.”
I chewed on that for a second. “The man I saw on the trail…he must be powerful. Or cunning, at least. To frame me just like that.”
“Yeah.” His fingers tightened over mine. “But I’m here, okay? No one’s laying a hand on you.”
The Ravalli County Sheriff’s Office was quiet when we arrived. Dom guided me toward the front desk, his hand grazing the small of my back.
“The sheriff in?” Dom asked the receptionist.
She gave him a look like she hadn’t seen a man in years. “Sorry, hon. He’s out right now.”
“I’ll wait,” Dom said.
“Suit yourself,” she replied, still smiling, her eyes following us. I didn’t need to guess where.
I placed a hand over his ass, enough to make a point. Mine.
We then took a seat on the wooden bench. Dom rolled a coin between his fingers.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Old courtroom coin.” He flipped it midair and caught it. “Silver dollar from my mentor. One hell of a public defender. He took a chance on me and gave me this after my first win.”
He handed it to me, the metal warm from his touch.
“I should tell him you’re keeping up the good work,” I teased.
Dom’s lips quirked. “We’re just getting started, Otter.”
The receptionist came over. “I’m sorry, but the sheriff won’t be back anytime soon. Turns out he’s on medical leave.”
Dom’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Everything okay?”
“As far as I know.”
“What’s wrong? I’m a friend of his.”
She shook her head. “Can’t disclose that. But Deputy Whitaker is available.”
Dom was already on his feet. “We’ll come back tomorrow. Appreciate it.”
He guided me toward the door, his voice low as we stepped outside. “Not talking to anyone but him.”
We had barely made it to the truck when a voice called out behind us.
“Sir?”
Dom stopped and turned.
The deputy jogging toward us looked young. He could’ve sat next to me in Intro to Kinesiology.
Dom’s stance shifted, not in recognition, but evaluation.
“I didn’t get your name,” the deputy said, slowing to a stop. His uniform was still stiff from a fresh press, his duty belt practically gleaming.
Dom remained calm. “Didn’t give it.”
The deputy held his ground. “I’m Deputy Whitaker.”
Dom shook his hand, but that was all he gave. No name. No small talk.
Whitaker’s gaze flicked to me, a trained assessment. “Mind stepping inside for a chat?”
Dom squared his shoulders. “What about?”
Whitaker pulled a tablet from his vest, tapped the screen, and turned it toward us. The sketch. The one that had been everywhere.
Dom held his stare. “You questioning her, Deputy?” The casual tone carried just enough bite to land as a warning.
“Not officially,” Whitaker said, hedging. “Just trying to establish a timeline. The incident at Blodgett Pass was on June 2nd.” His gaze slid to me. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Dom said nothing but subtly repositioned, his body angled to block me. The deputy adjusted just as fast, catching my eye.
“Look, I’m not accusing anyone,” he said with a shrug. “I just need to know where you were that day. Simple as that.”
Dom moved before I could even process the question, shifting between me and the deputy like a barricade.
“Come on, Autumn. We’re leaving.”
Whitaker took a step forward. “Sir, this is a very serious incident. I’m gonna need to ask—”
Dom sighed, pulled out his phone, and scrolled before turning the screen toward the deputy.
“I think you should question her instead,” Dom said flatly. “If you ask me, she’s a dead ringer for that sketch of yours.”
Whitaker’s gaze dropped to Dom’s phone. His frown deepened. His eyes flicked to me, then back down.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
A beat passed, then he took a step back and tucked his tablet away.
“Thought so,” Dom muttered, slipping into the truck.
I barely had time to buckle before I turned to him. “Who did you show him?”
His grin was pure sin. “Jennifer Lawrence.”
I let out a laugh, the tension within me finally cracking.
“There’s my Otter,” he murmured, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my hair.
“So, there was an armed robbery at Blodgett Pass, supposedly my doing. And Deborah Sinclair’s disappearance was at the same place. But so far, correct me if I’m wrong, the sketch was only linked to the robbery?”
“I think so,” he said. “But we need to find out if anyone has connected it to Deborah yet.”
“How?”
His fingers drummed against the wheel. “We go to the Buffaloberry Hill substation. I know the deputy who works there.”
I sank deeper into the seat. My pulse hadn’t quite settled. Somebody had set me up. Somebody wanted me to take the fall.
And if Dom hadn’t been with me just now, that rookie might’ve pulled me in for questioning before I had a chance to think.
I looked at him, my heartbeat still uneven. “You really would’ve taken me out of there no matter what, huh?”
His grip on the wheel tightened. “No one’s locking you up, Otter. Not on my watch.”
Even with the storm rolling in, with someone out there trying to frame me, I believed him.