8. Eric
ERIC
I tried calling Ambrose that evening, but he didn’t answer. I left him a message but had little hope that he would return my call.
I was just falling asleep when my phone rang.
There’d been a bad accident involving a drunk driver, and I’d been needed on the scene—for hours on the side of the highway, at the hospital, and then at the station—and I made it home in the wee hours of the morning.
The little sleep I got was fitful. My dreams were a mix of mangled cars and men bringing in crates and crates of drugs until they overflowed the shack and began to stack up in the woods.
No amount of coffee was going to make me feel awake.
I downed two cups before leaving the house and planned to stop for another on my way in.
Once I was in the car, I called Ambrose again. No answer. I should have known he was going to shut me out, no matter what he said. But then I thought about the way he’d looked at me as I knelt on the floor, fixing the hole he’d shot into Dax’s hardwood.
I thought about the way he’d opened up to me and remembered the moment when I’d almost kissed him.
Fuck. I slapped my hand against the steering wheel.
I had to stop thinking about him that way.
He was an asshole, a loner, a mobster. He was only interested in me for the ways he could use me to get to his enemies.
The more I told myself that, the better off I’d be.
Candace was right. I was looking for trouble.
I wasn’t sure if I was happy or sad that there was so much shit for me to deal with that morning that I hardly thought about Ambrose again.
Bad guys in the jail, a gambling ring that one of my deputies had busted the day before, a woman who seemed to think it was my job to get her neighbor to repaint her fence a color she found less offensive, a lost cat, and a domestic dispute I ended up in the middle of.
I’d finally gotten a chance for a lunch break and gone to the café. I was about to take a bite of my roast beef sandwich when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but the call came from New Orleans. It wasn’t Ambrose, but my instincts told me to answer it.
“Sheriff Winston?” A gruff voice I didn’t recognize came over the line.
“Yes.”
“Is Ambrose with you?” the caller asked.
“Who is this?”
“You don’t need to worry about that. You just need to let me know if he’s there.”
What the fuck? “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
The man was silent for a few moments. “This is his cousin Lance. I need to know where he is.”
My pulse sped up. I knew Ambrose could disappear like a puff of smoke, but I also knew he was committed to staying with Hope while Dax and Travis were gone, and he was supposed to be making plans with his family to move against Carlotti. “He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since we spoke yesterday.”
“Has he called or texted you?”
“No. I’ve called him twice but gotten no response. I didn’t think that was unusual, though. My understanding is that he only responds if he’s really in the mood to, and that’s almost never.”
Lance snorted. “That’s true enough. Any idea where he might have gone?”
“How much did he tell you about our conversation yesterday?”
“I’m the one asking the questions here. I don’t have time to play games.”
“Did he tell you about Carlotti?” I knew I was taking a risk, but it was out now.
“Yes.”
Thank God. “Then my best guess would be that he’s scouting out the area where I saw Carlotti’s men.”
“I’ve already checked there.”
Shit. “He might be following a lead to another place where they’re meeting.”
“There’s no evidence he was ever there.”
My stomach flip-flopped. Please let him be okay. “What about Hope?”
“She’s with Beau and Corbin having a fantastic day as a shop dog.”
Beau ran a body shop and had a great crew working for him.
I could imagine how much Hope would enjoy all the attention there.
The tightness in my chest eased. If Ambrose had made arrangements for the dog, then he had a plan.
He hadn’t been taken by Carlotti or someone else, not that his plan was likely anything I or his family would approve of.
It did still bother me that Lance was worried.
I doubted he was someone to jump to conclusions.
“I thought it was pretty common for Ambrose to disappear.”
“It is, but he doesn’t usually ignore a summons from Remington.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by that, although the idea of anyone having power over Ambrose seemed wrong. “Did he drop Hope off before or after he should have shown up for the meeting?”
Lance seemed to consider that for a moment. “After. That’s the last time he was seen. Corbin told him he should go see Remy, but he said he had something to take care of.”
“When was that?” I didn’t think he would tell me. Eventually, I was going to piss him off, and he’d tell me again that it wasn’t my place to ask questions. He surprised me by answering right away.
“Around nine this morning.”
That wasn’t long after I’d called him, but that was good, wasn’t it?
That confirmed that he’d gone off with a plan of his own.
The question was, had he meant to be gone this long?
Had he ever intended to show up at Remington’s?
If he had, then what had happened to him?
If he didn’t, why not? What did he have to do that was more important than pleasing the head of his family?
“I want to help find him.”
“He wouldn’t like that.”
“I don’t like him disappearing when he told me he’d check in with me today.”
Lance snorted. “He doesn’t check in with anyone.”
“Is it possible he’s just hiding out somewhere, tired of being around people?”
“It’s possible. But…”
“Your gut tells you that’s not it.”
“Yeah.”
“Mine too.”
Lance blew out a breath. “Stay where you are. One of us will let you know when we’ve located him.”
“I’m not just going to sit here while he’s in?—”
“Stay put. Do what you would normally do. We don’t need anyone to suspect there’s something wrong.”
“You mean if Carlotti’s got someone in town, you don’t want them to sense that something’s going on and I know about it.”
He chuckled. “Damn, you’re smarter than I expected.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Hang in there, Sheriff. We’ll find my fucking cousin. Of course, we might kill him ourselves when we do.”
He ended the call.
He was kidding, right? They wouldn’t… No, their family was close. I’d seen that. They cared about each other. Lance wouldn’t be concerned about Ambrose otherwise.
I considered my options as I finished my sandwich.
I could do as Lance said and go on about my day as if nothing was happening.
If one of Carlotti’s men was watching, the last thing I wanted to do was tip them off to what I knew or lead them straight to Ambrose, but I couldn’t let this go.
I couldn’t consider all the things that could have happened to him and just ignore it.
Surely the afternoon would be quieter than the morning had been.
If I did a little poking around, the deputies could handle most anything that might come up on a weekday afternoon.
It was too hot for most people to do anything but sit around or get out on the water in a boat.
I wasn’t sure what I was most concerned about, one of Carlotti’s men following me out of town or the wrath of Lance—or worse my sister—when they found out what I was up to.
Whatever I did, I was likely to piss off someone, but I wouldn’t have gotten where I was if I’d taken the sensible route every time.
I settled up at the café, then headed back down the street, speaking to everyone I passed.
At least most people were happy to acknowledge me, even if they talked about me constantly behind my back.
It had taken a while, but I did have a number of people in town who truly accepted me, including Janice the dispatcher.
I stepped into the station and headed to her desk.
“Thank you again for that apple cake, Janice. It was absolutely delicious.”
She beamed. “I’m always happy to bake for you. How are you doing this morning? I heard you had a rough night.”
“I did. A long one. I’m doing all right, but I’ve got a few things I need to look into.”
“What’s up, Sheriff?”
“Probably nothing, but I wanted to let you know I’ll be out for a while.”
“All right, take your time. I predict a quiet afternoon.”
I tipped my hat to her. “That would sure be nice.”
I headed out toward the shed where I’d spotted Carlotti’s men. Lance said he’d already looked around there, and Ambrose told me not to go there again, but my instincts told me that was the place to start looking. I parked about a half mile away and trekked through the woods, keeping out of sight.
There was no one around. The air was thick. It felt like I had to push it away to move through it. I was soaked with sweat and looked like I might have been swimming by the time I made it to the position where I’d watched Carlotti’s men unload.
I studied the place the Theriots and I had used for our stakeout, wondering if Ambrose might have returned there to set up the camera.
I didn’t see any equipment, so I began slowly making my way toward the edge of the woods, studying the ground for footprints or any other evidence someone had walked that way today.
An arm came around my waist, and I was jerked off my feet. My yell was cut off by a large hand closing over my mouth. I fought my attacker, kicking back and digging my fingers into his arms.
“Stop, you asshole, it’s me.”
Ambrose? Where the fuck had he been? I hadn’t seen or heard any sign of him.
He set me down but didn’t take his hand off my mouth.
“First, Lance tramps all over the area and now you. What the fuck are the two of you doing? Trying to ruin everything?”
I grabbed his wrist, pulled his hand away from my mouth, and turned to face him. “We were worried about you.”
“No more talking.” His voice had a hard edge, and it made me want to defy him.