Chapter 23
Talley Feed & Tack stretched long and low across the property, black siding sun-faded in places, the wide drive running straight through the middle of the building. A stock trailer idled halfway through, a couple of men loading fifty-pound bags while another truck waited behind it.
He slowed, looking for a place to park—and spotted Naomi.
She sat in a big dually with brIDLEPATH FARM lettered across the doors, lined up behind a flatbed getting loaded. The window was down. A border collie sat upright in the passenger seat like he owned the place.
Steve.
The dog spotted Luke first.
Ears up.
Tail starting.
Naomi glanced over, recognized the cruiser, and gave him a small lift of her chin.
Luke pulled in along the side, killed the engine, and walked over.
“Mornin’,” he said. “What you doin’ out this way?”
“Just checking on something.”
He reached up, giving Steve a scratch between the ears. The dog leaned into it like they were old friends.
“Hey there, buddy.”
Steve thumped his tail once against the seat.
“Have you seen Sam Talley around?”
She nodded toward the building. “Probably back by the load-through.”
“Appreciate it.”
Luke stepped away as her truck inched forward in line. He gave Steve one last pat on the head and headed toward the front door.
A bell chimed as he pushed inside.
Cooler in here.
Leather. Feed. Dust.
Shelves lined with tack and gloves, everything in its place. A kid behind the counter looked up.
“Help you?”
“Looking for Sam Talley,” Luke said, flashing his badge without making a show of it.
The kid jerked his thumb toward the back. “Out by the drive-through.”
“Thanks.”
Luke moved through the store, past stacked pallets and feed bins, and stepped out into the open bay where trucks rolled through.
Sam wasn’t hard to find.
Sleeves rolled.
Straw cowboy hat shading his face.
Standing off to the side, checking a clipboard with one of the drivers.
He looked up when Luke approached.
Didn’t seem surprised. Just finished what he was saying, handed the clipboard back, and stepped away.
“Sheriff’s office,” Luke said. “Luke Hale.”
Sam nodded once. “Yeah. What can I do for you?”
Luke glanced at the activity around them, then back to him.
“Got a minute to walk?”
Sam didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”
He turned and headed around the side of the building.
Luke followed.
The noise faded as they rounded the corner, gravel giving way to packed dirt and then grass.
And then it opened up.
Pasture rolled out behind the building.
Cattle scattered across it, heads down, grazing.
A pond sat off to the right, still from the morning rain, catching the low, heavy sky.
Beyond that—a house. Not big, but nice.
A barn behind it, everything kept up without being showy.
Luke took it in.
“Nice place,” he said.
Sam shrugged. “Does the job.”
They walked to the fence line and stopped, forearms settling on the top rail.
“Wanted to talk to you about a missing persons case.”
“After all these years,” he said, almost to himself. “You’re looking into it now?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Sam glanced over. “Why?”
Luke shrugged a little.
“We’ve been looking back through some old cases,” he said. “Ones that didn’t get much attention the first time around.”
“This one came up. Some folks found paintings out at the cabin. Got curious.”
Sam let out a quiet breath.
“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds about right.”
They stood there a moment, wind moving through the pasture.
“She came up here summer of ’98,” Sam said. “Said she wanted to paint. Get out of wherever she’d been.”
He shifted his weight.
“We got along,” he added. “More than that.”
Luke didn’t say anything.
“Next summer…” Sam went on, voice steady but thinner now, “we had a picnic planned out at the barn. Nothing big. Just us.”
He looked down at the fence rail.
“She didn’t show.”
Luke stayed quiet.
“I rode out to the cabin,” Sam said. “Figured she lost track of time. Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
A pause.
“She wasn’t there.”
He swallowed once.
“Truck was still parked out front. Clothes inside. Paintings. Supplies. Mail sitting on the table.”
He shook his head.
“Everything but her.”
Luke felt that settle wrong in his gut.
“You knew something was wrong.”
“Yeah. Right then.”
He stared out across the pasture again.
“She wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Wouldn’t just leave her whole life sitting there.”
“You went to the sheriff.”
Sam gave a short, dry huff.
“Yeah. I did.”
A beat.
“He took a look around. Asked a few questions.”
Another beat.
“Called it a walkaway.”
“Right,” he said. “That’s what it was.”
Luke glanced at him. “You didn’t believe that.”
“Not for a second.”
Luke let the pause stretch.
“You ever have a sense of what might’ve happened?”
Sam didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice had dropped.
“Back then… I had my thoughts.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“Wade Hollis owned most of that land,” he said. “People came and went out there. More than most folks knew about.”
A pause.
“I figured maybe he knew more than he said.”
Luke watched him.
“You ever talk to him about it?”
Sam shook his head. “Didn’t matter. Nobody was interested in digging any deeper.”
Another beat.
“I was,” he added. “Didn’t change anything.”
Luke nodded once.
“You ever hear from her? After?”
“No.”
The answer came quick.
Final.
Sam pushed off the fence.
“Look,” he said, nodding back toward the building, “I’ve got trucks lined up waiting on feed. Can’t stand out here all afternoon going back through it.”
Luke straightened. “I understand. I appreciate you talking to me.”
Sam hesitated.
Just a second.
Then he said, quiet but certain—
“She didn’t walk.”
He didn’t wait for a response.
He turned and headed back toward the barn, shoulders squared like he had work to get back to.
Luke stood there a moment longer, looking out over the pasture.
It felt like it belonged to a man who’d been waiting.
* * *
City Limits Café — Midmorning
Rain drifted softly across Main Street, turning the sidewalks slick beneath the gray spring sky.
Inside City Limits, Willow topped off coffee cups while the late breakfast crowd lingered over biscuits and local gossip.
Marylou sat near the front window with Ned Parker from Moonshine Creek RV Park, both of them watching Sam Talley through the glass as he crossed the street from the feed store, shoulders squared beneath the brim of his hat.
“Heard Luke Hale was out talking to him this morning,” Ned murmured quietly.
Willow glanced up from the coffee pot.
“About Clara Vale?”
Ned nodded once.
That got attention.
Just enough to shift the air in the diner.
Marylou lowered her voice. “People always said Sam never believed she walked away.”
“He didn’t,” Willow said softly.
Across the room, one of the older men near the counter muttered, “Funny thing is, Burton Scott’s the only man in this county who ever sounded like he believed she just walked off that mountain.”
Outside, Sam climbed into his truck and pulled onto Main Street without looking toward the diner windows once.
But inside City Limits Café, the old story moved again.