Chapter 20
Reid
“Sir, we have a problem.” One of the security guards, Andy, pushes open my office door. I look up from my screen, eyeing him.
“What problem?”
“The cops are here.”
A shiver runs down my spine. It’s an old reaction, wired in deep, one that never really goes away. Time dulls it, teaches you how to hide it, but it never disappears completely. I don’t like cops. Never have. Never will.
The same way I’ll never fully escape my past.
“Is it the sheriff?”
“Yeah, but he’s brought backup. Three cars.”
I frown. Three cars are excessive. What the hell is going on here?
“What do they want?”
“We don’t know. They just said they want to talk to you.”
“Alright.” I push to my feet, tension tightening across my shoulders. “I’ll be right there.”
Andy heads out ahead of me, but before I reach the door, Amanda rushes past him and stops in front of me.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” she asks, eyes wide with panic. “They’ve come for me. I won’t go back to him. Don’t let them take me away.”
“Calm down. We don’t know what they’re here for yet.” We both know it’s probably about her, but there’s no point letting her spiral.
“Andy,” I call. He stops. “Take Amanda to her room. Stay with her.”
He nods. “Sure thing, boss.”
“No,” Amanda says, grabbing my wrist. “I want to stay with you.”
“I have to deal with the police,” I tell her.
“Tell them I’m not here. Tell them I left.”
“They won’t believe that for a second, and we’re not lying to the police. We’ll protect you, but we still have to keep our license.”
She swallows. “I don’t want to talk to them.”
“You don’t have to,” I say. “If they ask to see you, we’ll tell them no.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Unless they come back with a warrant, they’re not getting anywhere near you.”
She hesitates, then nods and lets Andy lead her away.
Outside, I spot our local sheriff Clay Dawson immediately, along with six other cops I don’t recognize. They’re already taking in the compound—guards, fences, everything.
“Gentlemen,” I say, stepping down. “Welcome. What can I do for you?”
A portly, white-haired officer steps forward. “You must be one of the owners.”
“Reid Hutchinson.” I shake his hand. “And you are?”
“Detective O’Neill. Please, call me Patrick.” He flashes his badge and offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and I’m not buying it. “This is my partner, Detective Jason Casey. We’re from Denver.”
“Welcome. What can we do for you?”
“We’re here about a Mrs. Amanda Barnes. Wife of Mayor Barnes up in Yellowbrook.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “She hasn’t been well.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Lost her father a few years back. Took it hard. Since then—paranoia, running off, making accusations. Family’s been trying to get her help. She’s been on medication, in and out of treatment, but she keeps disappearing. This time, it seems she’s ended up here.”
“Was she under the care of a psychiatrist?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
“Not formally. She’s seen a few professionals over the years, but nothing stuck, and whenever she stops taking her meds, things tend to spiral.
This time she’s cut contact completely. Her husband’s worried sick.
” He pauses. “We’d just like to speak with her.
Make sure she’s okay. Maybe persuade her to come home, or if not, at least we can report back that she’s safe. ”
“Do you have a warrant?”
O’Neill straightens slightly. “I didn’t think we’d need one. This is just a wellness check, Reid.”
“I understand, Detective O’Neill,” I say evenly, “but I have paying guests here. Privacy matters. I can’t let you in without one—especially when a guest has explicitly said she doesn’t want to speak to you.”
He studies me. His expression tightens. “And that’s what she’s saying?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what she’s saying.”
His gaze hardens. “The mayor is a very important man, Reid.”
“No one is above the law, Detective.”
Silence stretches between us until the local sheriff clears his throat. “Oh—here’s Luke.”
I glance over. Luke is coming in from the woods with a group of hikers. Sierra’s with them.
Shit.
I didn’t want her seeing this.
She spots the police immediately. Slows. Her expression shifts—sharp, suspicious. She doesn’t trust them any more than I do, but at the same time, she doesn’t yet trust us, either.
“Hey, Sheriff Dawson,” Luke says easily. “What’s going on?”
“Just a wellness check on one of your… er… guests. A Mrs. Amanda Barnes.”
“Y’all got a warrant?”
The sheriff shifts his stance. “C’mon now, Luke. You know how much I hate paperwork. We just want to make sure she’s okay and then we’ll be on our way.”
Luke shakes his head. “Can’t do it. No warrant, no entry.”
“Come on, Luke—”
“Sorry, Clay.” He doesn’t budge.
He flicks me a look—subtle, but clear. He’s got this handled.
Good.
No point in both of us standing here.
“Well,” I say brightly, already stepping back, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got things to handle.”
Not avoidance—control. Let Luke manage the front while I keep everything else contained.
I head inside and make my way to my office.
I barely have time to sit before the door slams open.
Sierra stands there, eyes blazing.
“Alright,” she says, “tell me the truth. What’s going on with Amanda?”