Chapter 9
Brooke
Brooke stared out over the coffee shop. The lunch rush seemed to be over, leaving a brief lull. It wouldn’t last long, only until the afternoon crowd started trickling in.
“I’m going to tidy things up in the back,” she told Becky, her full-time weekday employee.
Becky tilted her head. “You sure? I’m happy to clean up.”
That was their usual division of labor. Becky handled things in the back while Brooke took care of the front, straightening tables and making everything look as good as it could.
“I could use a change. You mind?” Brooke gestured to the tables. Things looked okay, but not the way she liked them.
Becky furrowed her brow. “Is everything okay? You seem distracted today.”
Distracted. That was one word for it. Brooke hadn’t told Becky about yesterday. She wanted to, but somehow the words wouldn’t come.
She’d expected one of the customers to say something, but so far, no one had mentioned how she’d found a body in the Beartooth Mountains. “Lots on my mind,” she said, which was the absolute truth. “I thought the change in duties might do me good.”
“Sure, no problem. Let me know if you decide to switch. I’m off at two thirty.”
The implication was clear. Brooke may be the owner, but doing dishes was not her forte. Becky was right to be concerned. It was highly possible that Brooke would still be working in the kitchen by the time her shift ended. “It’s fine. I’ll get it done. Who’s on this afternoon?”
Becky named the two high school girls on for the evening, both confident, if not go-getters.
Brooke liked giving the youth a chance to work, but it wasn’t always easy.
So many times, they’d rather be on their phones than doing the side work necessary in food service.
She tried to remind them that if they had time to lean, they had time to clean, but it did little good.
As she started rinsing dishes, her mind drifted to yesterday.
Finding the body had been awful. Traumatic, even.
She slept little last night, caught between replaying the scene in her mind and waking from strange dreams. Not exactly scary dreams, but definitely odd.
Tyler was in them, and so was Deputy Boverman.
She hadn’t even made it all the way home, only as far as a stable internet connection, before pulling over and searching for Tyler’s name. As she read the first article, she vaguely remembered hearing about the tragedy.
She’d been away at college when the fire happened. Phil had mentioned it during one of her calls home. A house fire. A young wife and a toddler dead. Tyler Gillis—Phil’s friend from high school—came home to find his life destroyed.
At the time, Brooke had struggled to place Tyler.
Phil kept insisting she knew him, that he was in Phil’s graduating class and had even come over to the house, but she couldn’t picture his face.
She was much younger, focused on her own friends and activities.
The older kids had been background noise, faces she passed without really seeing.
Yesterday, after reading the article and seeing an old photograph of Tyler with his wife and child, she realized he did look familiar from that time in her life, and she could even remember Tyler at her house a time or two, exactly as Phil said.
The pictures in the article were very different from how he looked now. It was no surprise she hadn’t recognized him on the trail. He’d aged well. In fact, if she was being honest, he looked better now than he did when he was younger.
His eyes were different. The green was the same, of course, but while they had danced with laughter in the family photo, yesterday they were solemn, almost haunted.
Once she realized Tyler was her brother’s friend, she’d been tempted to drive straight to her father’s house, where Phil still lived in a basement apartment.
But if she did, she’d have to tell them about finding the remains, or if Sue was right, one body in two separate piles. The thought alone turned her stomach.
Instead, she spent several minutes searching archived files. A local tragedy. Questions raised. The investigation closed.
Tyler’s wife, Jen, had a bump on her head, but it was consistent with a fall after being overcome by smoke. The fire started in the kitchen, and she might have tried to put it out before being overcome by the smoke and fumes.
The official cause of death for both Jen and their little boy was smoke inhalation, but the pictures of the house and the damage still made Brooke’s heart ache. She was grateful the smoke had been the culprit and not the flames.
No charges had ever been filed. The fire was blamed on a faulty gas line on the stove.
But reading between the lines, Brooke could still see the suspicion that had lingered.
The insurance payout was mentioned multiple times, and Tyler had left town shortly afterward.
The timeline invited questions without providing answers.
After she got home last night, she called Phil, wanting to hear his perspective.
“Tyler Gillis?” Phil had said immediately. “Why are you asking about him?”
“Just curious. I was reading about the fire.”
“After all these years?”
“Please, Phil. What can you tell me?”
“That was a rough time.” Phil’s voice had gone somber. “Tyler was a good guy. Still is. I never believed he had anything to do with it.”
“Really?”
“Brooke, I knew Tyler. We were friends all through school. Even later, when he was married, I went to his place a few times. He worked at the gypsum factory back then, but always had a love for cars. I worked with him on a couple of his project cars. He used to buy old cars cheap and fix them up to turn a profit. It helped pay the bills so his wife could stay home with their baby. That man loved his family more than anything.” Phil had been adamant.
“No way he set that fire. It had to be an accident, just like they said.”
“But people suspected him.”
“Some people suspect everyone. Doesn’t make them right.” Her brother had paused. “Why the sudden interest?”
Brooke had deflected, saying she’d just been curious about old news. Phil hadn’t pushed, though she suspected he didn’t believe her.
He wasn’t going to be happy when he found out about yesterday. And no doubt the news would get out, even if it hadn’t already. It was impossible to keep a secret in Basin County.
As far as Tyler was concerned, she trusted her brother’s instincts. Phil could be too blunt sometimes, saying things that made people uncomfortable, but his read on people was usually accurate. If he said Tyler was innocent, that carried weight.
But so did her own experience with Kelsey.
Brooke finished loading the dishwasher, added soap, and hit start, her movements automatic while her mind continued turning.
She thought about calling her dad, too, but decided not to. She couldn’t quite explain why, but she wanted to keep yesterday private. Not secret exactly, just not discussed. Not analyzed and dissected and turned into family conversation over dinner.
Her dad would understand. They were very much alike. Both needed time to sort things out before talking about them. Her mom, though, had been different. Like Phil, she sometimes spoke before giving herself time to process. Phil definitely got his bluntness from her.
Their mom had died three years earlier. She went to bed one night and never woke up. Her dad and Phil had both been out of town at a convention. Brooke had found her when she stopped by to pick her up for church. Finding her mother like that had nearly broken her.
Even then, she’d needed several minutes to pull herself together before she started making the phone calls. That was just how she was built.
Keep quiet. Process. Then talk. The trouble was the talking didn’t simply stop. Her mind would go into overdrive, and she would end up replaying things over and over to the point of obsession. She was trying hard to tamp down that tendency now, and failing miserably.
Gina had found out about the body in the woods.
It wasn’t surprising. She worked at the hospital, was a volunteer with Basin County Search and Rescue, and seemed to hear everything eventually.
She’d called the night before while Brooke was once again searching for information about Tyler, this time on her laptop.
“Are you okay? I heard about what happened.”
“Is it all over the town?”
“All over? Not yet. The news of a body being found is out, but not who found it. I only know because I ran into Edi Reeves. She knows we’re friends.”
“I’m fine,” Brooke had assured her. “Shaken up, but fine.”
“I’m at work right now, but I can come by later if you need to talk.”
“Really, I’m okay. Just trying to stay busy.”
They’d talked for a few more minutes before Gina had to go handle something at the hospital. Not fifteen minutes later, the doorbell had chimed, and her cousin Nick was there.
He looked worried, his usual smile replaced by concern. “Gina called me. Said you found a body?”
“News travels fast.” It made sense that Gina called Nick. They’d been dating since Bearwater. Something good had come out of that nightmare after all. Both had been burned before, so they were taking things slowly.
“Gina worries.” Nick had settled onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“You want to talk about it?” Brooke had given him the abbreviated version.
Nick had been staying with her until a few weeks ago, when he finally found his own place, a studio apartment over someone’s garage.
It was small, but it was his, and Brooke was happy for him, even if she missed having him around.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Nick had asked when she finished her story.
“I will be. It’s just a lot to process.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He’d studied her face. “Is there something else? You seem more rattled than just finding a body would explain.”
She’d laughed, but the sound came out hollow. “Really? You think finding a body wouldn’t mess me up?”
“Sorry. That was a poor choice of words and not what I meant. But really, is there something else?”
Brooke had hesitated, then told him about Tyler.
About the history, the suspicions, and the way Adam had revealed everything in the parking lot.
Nick wasn’t from Irma and didn’t know the story.
He nodded when it was appropriate, asked a few clarifying questions, and waited until she was done to say more.
“Sounds complicated.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? She hadn’t had an answer for Nick last night, and she didn’t have one for herself today.
Brooke moved to the sink and wiped down the stainless steel while she tried to organize her thoughts into something coherent.
She was attracted to Tyler. That much was undeniable. The way he’d handled the situation on the trail, his calm competence, the protective instinct that had kicked in without him making a big deal about it. She’d felt something building between them, brief but real.
Her brother believed in him. Phil had known Tyler personally, spent time with him and his family, and was certain Tyler was innocent. That had to mean something.
But so did her history with Kelsey. She had trusted the wrong person before. How could she be sure she wasn’t doing it again?
Then there was Adam Boverman. He’d been kind yesterday, protective in a way that felt safe and straightforward. No mysterious past, no questions about his character. Just a local deputy doing his job, making it clear he was interested in her.
That should be appealing. That should be exactly what she wanted after everything with Kelsey—someone uncomplicated, someone whose life was an open book.
But something about Adam’s interest felt off. Too eager, too calculated. Like he was positioning instead of genuinely connecting.
Plus, he had a reputation as a player. She couldn’t get into a relationship with someone like that. Brooke was no prude, but she also didn’t do short-term situations. And she most certainly avoided one-night stands, which is what Adam was known for.
Even worse, she couldn’t get Tyler out of her head. His pain was real, raw in a way that cut through all the suspicion and doubt. When Adam revealed his past, Tyler hadn’t defended himself or made excuses. He had just stood there and taken it, like he was used to being accused.
That acceptance bothered her. If he were truly innocent, wouldn’t he fight harder?
Unless he was simply too tired to fight, too worn down by years of suspicion to keep defending himself.
Brooke dried her hands and leaned against the counter.
She wasn’t going to pull away completely. Not yet. She’d give Tyler the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. She’d trust Phil’s instincts and admit that tragedy didn’t equal guilt.
But she’d keep her guard up. She needed to know more.
She needed answers to the questions that kept circling in her mind.
To get those answers, she needed to talk to Tyler and hear his side of the story directly, not filtered through Adam’s accusations or old news articles.
She needed to look him in the eye and see what was really there.
Brooke made a decision. She’d finish cleaning the kitchen, make sure the high school girls were all set for their shifts, and drive over to the auto shop to give Tyler a chance to explain. If her gut still told her to be wary after that, fine. But she owed it to herself to at least listen.
The kitchen was almost finished now, the mess not nearly what it often was on a busy Monday.
Brooke checked her watch. Another half hour until the next shift came in, and then she’d need twenty minutes to get them situated.
She could get through that and stay busy enough to stop obsessing over Tyler Gillis.
She was wiping the counters when Becky stuck her head in the kitchen door.
“Hey, Brooke?”
“Yes?”
Becky’s expression was amused, her eyebrows waggling in that way that meant something interesting was happening. “Someone’s asking for you.”
Brooke’s heart jumped. “Who?”
“A cutie.” Becky grinned. “Tall, nice smile. Looks like he works out.”
Tyler? Had he come to talk to her before she could go to him?
Brooke quickly dried her hands on a towel, then smoothed down her hair. She was in her work clothes—jeans and an Irma Brew T-shirt topped with an apron that served as their uniform. She slipped out of the water-spotted apron, hanging it on a hook.
She pushed through the kitchen door and scanned the shop for Tyler.
Disappointment hit hard.
Adam stood at the counter, still in uniform, wearing that easy smile on his face. Not Tyler. Not even close.
“Hey, Brooke. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Brooke forced a smile, trying to hide her disappointment. “No, not at all. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, I was hoping we could talk.”