33. Ledger
Ledger
Shiloh thankfully called me and waited at the diner so I could follow her home and make sure she got in the house.
I went back to work, and we got suited up. I gave instructions to the rest of my deputies. Now, Luke, an extra DEA hand, and I are on our way to Bobby’s Feed Store while Lawrence and his team go to Perry’s. Let’s hope no one called in sick.
We’ve been watching all of them for months, collecting surveillance, and they have hardly, if ever, varied from routine.
A working farm needs consistency and schedules.
On top of that, they’re so buttoned up; the only reason we know they’re major sellers is through secondhand information, confirmed by Will.
It would be easy to assume our suspects were ranch hands because Kensington Ranch raises a lot of cattle and other animals.
I pull my personal truck into the parking lot, looking for John’s old beat-up Chevy.
“There it is,” Luke says.
“Got it.”
I pull up behind it to block it in and we wait.
I’ve got the entrance to the parking lot, while Luke has the store doors, and our extra, Zach has the back, every angle covered.
Everything is quiet, normal. Nothing to be concerned about. It’s a typical Wednesday.
I take a deep breath and check my phone to see if Shiloh texted me. My stomach is in knots, knowing this could put her in further danger.
“Suspect walking out now,” Luke says.
I leave the truck idling, ready to drive off after they grab him.
Zach and Luke get ready to hop out. In my mirrors, I can see John throw his hands up in frustration because I’m blocking him in.
He shakes his head and walks behind the truck.
Luke and Zach hop out.
I put the truck into drive.
Ten seconds and a list of curse words, and threats later John is in the truck.
And I’m driving out of the parking lot. Straight for the station.
Zach cuffs him and reads him his rights.
“You don’t know what you’re doing man. This is a bad idea. You’re going to get all of us killed!” John says.
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started selling narcotics to teenagers John,” Luke says.
“What do you expect me to do? A man’s gotta eat!” John says.
I ignore him turning into the station lot and driving around back.
We need to move John as quickly as possible though there’s no one back here I’m not taking any chances.
Before I open my door and Zach get’s out, I turn around and look John in the eye. “Keep your mouth shut, and cooperate this will go a lot easier, and will hurt you a lot less.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles.
I nod to Zach and he get’s out, pulling John after him.
We walk him into the back and directly into a holding cell.
I lock the cell and stare at John for a minute longer.
He shies away from the bars, and I go to my office to wait for Lawrence and his crew to bring Elise and Connor.
“Daisy,” I call.
She scurries into the office with Dozer under her arm. “Please call Calder and tell him to drive past the Kensingtons in plain clothes and let me know if there’s anything unusual going on. No stops, just call in with observations.”
“Okay,” she says, and scurries out of my office, sensing how tense I am. She leaves Dozer, and he struts over to me, hopping up on my leg.
“Almost there, boy, almost there,” I mutter, patting his small head.
This could put them into panic mode, which means the clock is already ticking, and Will has minimal time to get out.
About ten minutes later, Lawrence radios in that they picked up Elise and Connor.
Once they’re locked up. Lawrence comes in and drops into a chair, with nail scratches along his face.
I wince. “Do we need to get you some medical attention?”
He shakes his head. “No, but you could have warned me the woman is a hell cat.”
“Honestly, she’s pretty mild, I didn’t think she had it in her.”
He huffs. “Well, we got her, and we’ll transport them later tonight.”
“Thanks. I have one of my guys doing a check on the main property. Hopefully none of them are aware yet which gives us a bit of a buffer.”
Lawrence nods.
“We also received notification from our inside man that the shipment will go out next week. But I anticipate that changing with today’s events.”
“Do you have eyes in there now?” he asks.
“Not really, it would put our guy in too much danger. But we have wiretaps.”
Lawrence crosses his arms. “We’ll get people on phone taps and see if any chatter comes up.”
“Thanks, we don’t have the manpower to monitor all of this and —”
“Ledger, we got a call out at Black Hill Ranch,” Daisy says, peeking her head in.
I sigh. “And this is why we haven’t been able to monitor the phone taps 24/7.”
Lawrence chuckles. “No problem, take care of that. I’ll let you know if we hear anything.”
I grab my hat, dropping it on my head, and shake his hand.
For being such a small town, there’s always something going on in Paxton.
I yawn walking through the front door, so tired I don’t even know if I want to eat. We had a dispute with two neighboring ranches on whose cattle was whom’s. That’s normally what my job looks like. I’m the Sheriff, a mediator, and livestock enforcement.
It was quiet at Kensington Ranch. No chatter at all on the wiretap.
No unusual activity on the ranch itself, from what we could see.
That either means they don’t know or they’re on lockdown.
Either way, the dominoes have started falling, and the next step is to wait.
If we move too fast, that puts Will in an even worse position. He needs time to get out.
Shiloh is banging around in the kitchen as I walk through the laundry room and set Dozer on his feet.
He runs right up to her, and she smiles, picking him up and nuzzling their noses together. “Hi, baby, did you have a fun day with daddy?” she asks him.
He wiggles in her hands and she sets him down, then stands and glares at me over her shoulder.
Who knew telling your wife you love her could make her this angry?
I come up behind her setting my hands on her hips and kiss her cheek. She’s not stiff under my touch. I’ll take that as a good sign. “I’m going to grab a shower and then we’re going to talk because I don’t know about you, but I can’t keep going like this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says with her back to me.
I huff and pat her behind. “Alright, Shy.”
After my shower, I walk past my dresser and pause, staring at the gold ring I bought when we got married. I took it off that because I didn’t want the questions.
I slide it onto my finger and the cold metal shocks me a bit, but the weight feels right. I should have put it back on a while ago.
When I walk back into the kitchen freshly showered, she’s not in there or the living room. A couple of pots are covered. I’m assuming dinner is done. When I look out the back window, she’s running around with Dozer in the backyard.
She laughs going slower than she needs to, letting the dog catch up to her. He leaps onto her calf and she pretends to fall while he yips and licks her face.
I smile at the whole display. She’s wearing those cut-off shorts she knows do things to me and a sweatshirt two sizes too big for her.
Today was unseasonably warm, but the temperatures are supposed to drop again.
These sunny and warm fall days are virtually a thing of the past, and it makes me wonder if what Shy and I have might be too.
That’s what hurts the most. It’s not necessarily about her saying the words back, but the cold shoulder, the fear in her eyes isn’t what I expected.
I know we’re already married, but it’s not like I asked her to marry me for real …
yet. I was planning on it, but saying I love you is part of it.
Grabbing a beer, I go back to the puzzle I started. It’s half-done, and I’m still working on the white pieces.
The back door opens, she and the dog scramble through. “Dinner is ready. I was waiting for you to get out of the shower.”
I stand and grab my beer. My ring clinks against the glass.
Her gaze drops to my hand on the bottle. Something passes through her eyes, then gets two plates for our food. I ordered a bunch of dishes to replace the ones that were broken. At least the front window is in, but the flooring has to wait since it was special order.
She scoops rice and orange chicken onto the plates and I take mine from her. She’s not a waitress in this house.
We sit at the table eating in silence. Normally, the quiet doesn’t bother me. But this time it feels like a cheese grater on my skin. I keep sneaking glances at her, but she won’t look at me.
“Thanks for making dinner, I appreciate it.”
She lifts a shoulder, looking anywhere but at me.
“So, how was your day?” I ask her.
She gives me a deadpan look, and I bristle.
“Mine was busy. The station loved the dog.”
She nods and pokes at her half-eaten food.
“Was it quiet at the diner? No issues?”
“No,” she rasps.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment because I told you I love you?”
She keeps her eyes on the plate.
“I have a sister, Shy. This isn’t the first time I’ve been given the silent treatment, and apparently, not the last.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and her lips twitch. I can see all the words she’s locking up tight behind them.
“If you don’t want this Shiloh, just tell me,” I rasp.
That makes her look up.
I puff out a breath, nodding to myself. “Alright, then.”
The ring on my finger feels a lot heavier than it should.
I take my plate to the sink and start on the dishes.
Love isn’t always a two-way street. Sometimes it’s a narrow one-way, and I guess I’ve been on the road by myself the whole time.
Maybe I work too much, maybe I should have gone about things differently.
Once we gave in, everything moved quickly.
I thought I was doing right by her, but it’s clear to me I wasn’t.
She runs out of the kitchen, ignoring Dozer, and closes herself off from me. A minute later, I hear music.
My hands shake in the sudsy water, and I focus on cleaning and putting away.
When I’m done, I take the dog out one more time. He whines a little, and I put him in his kennel. He circles his bed and drops into it, exhausted from the eventful day.
I’ve never loved a woman the way I love her.
Sure, I love my mom and my sister. I know what it means to love.
My parents have always been an example to me.
One that I have always wanted, but have been willing to wait for.
Good things take time. I know that, and my great thing walked through my front door.
I think what Shiloh and I have could be a forever.
I’m patient. I can wait for her to get there because she needs the space and time. It never crossed my mind that she had no intention of getting there, or maybe she wanted to try it and found me lacking.
The music finally stops, and now the silence feels deafening.
Lawrence gave me the heads-up that they were transporting John, Connor, and Elise tonight. Which helps, but it also puts me even more on edge. Quiet isn’t always good.
I fluff my pillow and close my eyes, knowing I’m not going to get any sleep, but I’m exhausted, and I have people relying on me to be at my best. My inadequacies at home cannot affect my work, not when there are lives on the line.
Something crashes outside, and it didn’t sound like someone throwing away trash. I launch out of bed, grabbing my firearm. I don’t think Grey is dumb enough to come back here, but I won’t put it past him. Or it could be one of Kensington’s other men.
My room faces the street. I carefully pull the blind, looking up and down the street. No one is outside, from what I can tell. Sneaking out of my bedroom, I hurry out the back door in my boxers. I probably should have called the station before doing this.
Checking my corners, I come around the side of the house towards the street, expecting to find someone, but there’s nothing.
I force my breathing to steady and focus.
Nothing.
Circling the house again, I check my neighbors, and it’s quiet. It could have been anything, or anyone. I’ve never felt the need to get cameras until now.
Grumbling to myself, I slip back into the house and get back in bed, taking deep breaths to calm down.
Then my bedroom door opens and I jolt up. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins as Shiloh stands there.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah, but did you hear that?” she asks.
I nod. “I went to check it out and didn’t find anything.”
She nods and shifts on her feet.
I start to lay back down, expecting her to leave, even if I don’t want her to, then she closes the door behind her and crawls into bed with me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I sigh and stare at the ceiling. “What are you sorry for?” I ask her because I genuinely don’t know at this point. I need her to spell it out for me.
“For being a rude bitch.”
I pin my lips together. I don’t think she was being that. I think she’s scared, and I can’t force my wife to love me.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you, and I don’t know how.”
“You just say it, Shy,” I mumble.
It hurts worse — her lying here after everything we’ve been through — she still doesn’t know what to say. We’ve given each other pieces of ourselves in this bed. It’s what I want to share with her for the rest of my life until my last breath.
But people change their minds. And I have to accept that she has.
“I don’t know how to start,” she whispers.
I sigh, refusing to look at her. “It’s late Shy I need to get up early.”
“You said you love me,” she whispers.
“I do.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I soak in her heat next to me. I want to pull her into my arms and beg her to see what I see.
“Please look at me,” she rasps.