Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
CALDER
I stop in town to grab lunch for me and Meredith before I go to Jules Creek. Leaving the grocery store loaded up on root beer and cold fried chicken from Ritter’s, I nearly smack into someone.
Finn Sterling.
He stops abruptly. I saw him at the funeral, but up close, I try to reconcile the man in front of me with the country kid I once knew.
Back then, we dressed alike, in shirts and worn jeans.
He wore a permanent devil-may-care grin and didn’t take a damn thing seriously.
Today, he’s in brown tactical pants and a bulky light brown collared shirt that must be covering some sort of protective vest. A belt full of gear is wrapped around his waist, and the receiver of a radio is pinned to his shoulder. A brown tie completes the look.
“Gotta keep your eyes open, Cross.” His tone is light, but regardless—old grudges.
“Hard to serve and protect if you mow down the citizens of this town.” I keep most of the edge out of my comment.
I can’t come up with a real reason I’m supposed to dislike him other than that I was told to.
We were competitive in sports and our private lives, but other than him being a sarcastic prick, I come up empty.
His eyes narrow like he’s having the same trouble coming to terms with the grown version of me.
“Nice uniform,” I say to avoid this interaction becoming awkward. I’m not complicating matters with the Sterlings in case we try to sell.
Fuck, will Gil line up at an auction to buy the place? Maybe I should recommend a different route where we can deny an offer made by a Sterling…
“Can’t say I saw that coming. Didn’t Dietz continually try to shut down your parties?”
“Alleged parties.” The easy grin makes an appearance. He hitches up one side of his belt. “Can’t say I saw you in some boardroom at the head of the table.”
No. Can’t say I did either. “Hazard of the trade.”
I look around the short Main Street lined with brick buildings of various heights.
Jailbreak, one of the other bars in town, is across the street, and the café is two doors down.
Cars line the sides of the roads, including a few work trucks like the one emblazoned with Pedigree Oil logos.
A few people are coming and going between cars and businesses, but no one’s paying us any mind.
I didn’t want to go out of my way to find Finn and ask him about the accident, but he’s right in front of me. I can’t squander this opportunity. “Gil said you found my dad first?”
The grin vanishes, and there’s distance in his eyes like he doesn’t want to remember, or he doesn’t want to react and give me a glimpse of how bad it was. “I did.”
“No one called it in? No one saw a thing?”
“If they did, they ain’t saying.” Before I can figure out what he means by that, if anything, he rolls a shoulder. “I know you have questions, and I wish I had answers. Our families aren’t close, but what happened isn’t something I’d want anyone to go through. I’m sorry about Ransom. I really am.”
The emotion that hits me is unexpected. I’d rather Finn continue to be a prick, to act like my brothers and make me feel like nothing’s changed when everything has.
My anger rears up—at Dad, the lack of answers, my own situation.
I’m irritated at the irony of being at a crossroads with the ranch, being pulled in different directions.
“I might not have questions if I felt your office did a good job looking into it.”
He frowns. “Why do you think there’s something to look into?”
“Come on. Does it make sense?” I don’t mean to bite his head off, but also—did he try?
Or did he write the accident off as brash, loud Ransom getting himself and his wife killed?
Did he show up to the scene as Deputy Sterling, or as Finn, the neighbor kid who probably heard nothing good about my dad?
“Most deaths don’t make sense,” he says calmly.
I grind my teeth together. I’m not getting any help. It might be because I’m grasping at empty air. “We can’t find Holly’s camera. Did you see it?”
“If I saw it, you’d have it.” There’s a warning in his voice, and I get it. I insulted his whole office, but Saturday is only a couple of days away. I don’t have much time, and that missing camera is burrowing its way into my conscience and whispering loudly.
“Based on how thorough the investigation was, I’m not so sure about that.
” When his brows crash together, I keep going, just to vent some of the pressure rising inside of me.
“What about break-ins? You have strangers going through your house, or is that just us? Does the Cross property get adequate patrol, or only after something bad happens?”
His mouth sets in a hard line. “You got a problem, Cross, take it to the station. Talk to my boss.”
“I tried. He put even less effort into caring than he did the accident report.”
Finn’s eye twitches. Is he sick of his boss too? “If someone broke into your house, file a report. Otherwise, we’re done here. Besides, I think you have more to worry about, like keeping that brewer of yours from getting snatched up by someone who’ll let her do what she wants.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Surprise lights his eyes like I’m supposed to know what he’s talking about. “I’m not the one you should be asking.” He steps around me and disappears into the grocery store.
What did he mean? Is there something Meredith isn’t telling me?