31. Colton
“How’s the construction on that new bunkhouse?—”
Before I can finish the question, Theo rasps, “Bea’s in the hospital.”
No way in hell did I expect that to be his answer. Gaping at the stretch of land ahead of me, I try not to lose my shit. “Marvin?”
“Who else?” is his bitter retort.
His hatred for the man echoes along the line. Marvin is clearly suicidal with how he keeps pushing us. But that’s the problem. He gets to hold his wife hostage all while knowing we won’t touch him for Bea’s sake.
First Clyde, now Marvin.
I could strangle someone and Marvin’s closer.
But that would diminish Theo’s satisfaction so I’ll back off. Begrudgingly.
“Is she all right?” I ask, gaze darting to Fen who’s rolling around on his back ten feet away. His satisfied grunts and whinnies would ordinarily make me smile, but Marvin destroyed any chance of that.
Looks like the suspension backfired on us.
“The asshole did a real number on her. I’m here with her at the hospital. How do you feel about setting her up somewhere?”
“Ecstatic. I’ve been waiting years for this. Is she being discharged today? How soon do I need to set everything up?”
“She’ll be here for a week. Minimum. Plenty of time for me to convince her to leave that son of a bitch.”
“Okay, we can make arrangements by then.” I rub my eyes. “This means we can get that asshole off my ranch permanently. End his contract with us.”
“Consider it done.”
Hearing the satisfaction oozing from his tone, I rumble, “Whatever you do to him, don’t get caught or let it go too far. The last thing Bea or I need is for you to be sent up over this.”
“And I thought we were friends.”
“If you go to jail, you know none of your brothers will bail you out. It’ll be me and I’ll say I told you so?—”
“All right, all right. I won’t kill him.”
“Good. Give Bea my love and tell her I’ll be in to see her later.”
“She doesn’t want any visitors.”
I pause. Ponder the tightness to his tone. “You included?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s how bad she looks?”
“He treated her face like a punching bag.”
“Tell me she’s pressing charges.”
“Going to work on that too.”
“You acting on her behalf here or just hoping she’ll listen?”
“Hoping.”
Fuck. “I’m here if you need me.” He has the Korhonen purse strings at his beck and call—that’s pretty much all I can do for him.
“Thanks, Colt. Talk later.”
“Text me updates.”
“Will do.”
Grabbing the shirt I discarded earlier, I swipe it over my face.
Dropping the plaid again, I toss my cell on top, then get back to work fixing this fence. This time, each hit acts as a release of pressure, and considering I’m close to blowing my lid, this thankless chore comes in handy.
The rhythmic blows of hammer against wood vibrate along the airwaves. I feel each thud in my shoulder—the one I busted when I fell off Fen during a barrel race when I was twenty-five—but it’s a simple job and sometimes, I like the simple jobs.
Even before Zee, my life was complicated.
Now, the responsibility of both the Seven Cs and the Bar 9 starts and ends with me. I love it, but there’s no denying it’s a lot of work so these types of mindless chores are a great escape. Take this morning, I went to HQ at six AM and I’m here now to clear my head.
My cell buzzes, drawing my attention.
Theo: You’ll never guess who arrived at the ER DOA—Lydia Armstrong. Hit-and-run.
When I tap connect on his name, he answers immediately.
“You serious, Theo?”
“Not something to lie about,” he mutters. “The RCMP is here.”
“Not surprising with a hit-and-run. Where?”
“On the corner of Main Street and Pigeon Drive.”
“There’ll be witnesses, surely?”
“I guess.”
“Is it Reilly on duty?”
“Yup. Want me to put him on the line?”
“Please.”
As I shrug into my shirt and grab my tools, I hear Theo’s short conversation with the sergeant.
“Colton?”
“Yeah. Terry, what’s going on?”
“Lydia’s dead.” There’s an awkward silence that hangs heavily between us. I don’t push it, mostly because I know he wants to ask me something and is building up the courage to— “Have you heard from your father?”
“What? No.” I hesitate. “Last I heard he was in Vancouver. But I know Susanne just got off the phone with him.”
“Did he mention his whereabouts?”
“No. She’d have told me if he said he was in town.” His hum doesn’t sound disbelieving, but it still has me asking, “Why?”
“The EMTs are saying Lydia was muttering his name before she passed.”
My brows lift. “You know there’s no love lost between Clyde and me, Terry. Hence the protective order. He hasn’t been to the ranch.”
“The ranch. Doesn’t mean he’s not in Pigeon Creek.”
“No.”
“Not looking good, Colton.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agree, perplexed by this turn of events. “I’ll update you if I hear anything.”
“Appreciate that.”
I rub my chin. “Let me know if you make any arrests. Something like this won’t go down well in the court of public opinion if the matter isn’t dealt with swiftly.”
“Agreed. Will you feel the same way if Clyde was behind the wheel?”
“Damn straight.” Still, I rub the bridge of my nose. “I should probably let you know that Lydia Armstrong was sending me poison pen letters—for the past six months or so.”
“What kind of poison pen letters?”
“If you come to the ranch, I’ll give them to you. You can see for yourself.”
“How did you know it was her?”
“Theo Frobisher caught her hanging around our mailbox on a day when I received a letter. I asked Callan to check our security footage and he confirmed she delivered them. A mastermind she was not.”
“Always was a troubled woman,” he remarks. “Even before Marcy went missing. She’s had a problem with the Korhonens ever since, hasn’t she?”
I think it’s smart not to mention that the RCMP failed to find Marcy in the first place.
“Yes. I don’t know why either. None of us dated her.”
“I heard about that confrontation with Lydia at The Coffee Shop…?”
My brows lift. “Did Lydia approach you about it?”
“No, but she wouldn’t, would she? Not if she’s been sending you letters.”
“She spat in Zee’s coffee. Zee didn’t appreciate that?—”
“Quite right.”
“And upended a glass of water over her. I told Jocelyn that she was a public health hazard.”
“Jocelyn fired her.”
“Yeah. Does Doug know about Lydia yet?”
“No. I’m not looking forward to telling him either. First his girl, now his wife. Not sure the man can take being kicked around much more.”
“If there’s anything the family can do, extend the offer of help to him from us. Funerals aren’t cheap.”
“I’ll thank you on his behalf and tell him not to be a stubborn fool if he doesn’t accept the helping hand.”
“Give him my condolences.”
“Will do.” He clears his throat. “Hate to have to do this, Colton, but where were you between the hours of twelve and one?”
I scratch my jaw. “Out on the land. East quadrant. Over on the border between us and the Linnox place.”
“Anyone with you?”
“No.”
He clears his throat. Again. “Might have to call you to the detachment, Colton. Get a statement.”
Two words float through my mind—probable cause.
I keep my tone light. “Whatever you need, Terry.”
What was I saying about my life being complicated?
“I’ll be back at the detachment in ninety minutes.”
It isn’t couched as a demand, but I know what he’s saying.
“I’ll be there.”