Chapter 31
Hollis Ridge Estate
The drive up hadn’t changed, but Luke’s perspective had.
Having spent years in a city PD before coming home to Sylva, he recognized the “Hollis effect” for what it was: insulation.
The stone guard shack and the silent iron gates weren’t for privacy; they were there to remind the world that the law usually stopped at the property line.
When Luke entered the library, the air was cool and smelled of beeswax and expensive tobacco. Wade Hollis didn’t look up from his desk immediately, but he didn’t look bothered either. He looked like a man who’d spent his life surrounded by people who said yes.
“Luke Hale,” Wade said, finally looking up with a wide, easy smile that was all honey and no sting. “I was wondering when you’d find your way up the mountain. Your mom tells me you’re settling back in just fine. Sit down, son. Take a weight off.”
“Appreciate it, Wade,” Luke said, settling into a leather chair that felt like it cost more than his cruiser.
“Can I get you something? Coffee? Something stronger? I know the Sheriff’s department doesn’t pay nearly enough for the hours you put in.”
“I’m good, thank you. I’m actually here on official business. We’ve reopened the Clara Vale file, and I wanted to clear up some things from the 1999 report.”
Wade sighed, a soft, practiced sound of regret. He leaned back, his Stetson tipped perfectly. “Clara. Such a tragic, beautiful girl. I always felt for her, Luke. She had a light in her, but she was trapped in that little shack with a man who couldn’t see past his own fence line.”
“Sam Talley says you were the one circling her, Wade,” Luke said, pulling out his notebook.
Wade let out a short, charming laugh. “Sam. Bless his heart. He’s a hothead, always has been.
That business at the fair? That wasn’t about me ‘pawing’ at her.
That was a lovers’ quarrel that spilled into the livestock barn.
Clara and I… well, we had a summer. It wasn’t my proudest moment, being a married man, but she was persistent.
She wanted more than Sam Talley could give her, and he knew it. ”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a confidential, easy tone.
“Sam caught us in that cabin a few nights before she vanished. He went wild. Threatened to kill us both. I left because I didn’t want the scandal, and I figured they’d settle it.
Then she was gone. I’ve always carried a bit of guilt for not taking her with me that night, but a man has to think of his family first.”
Wade fell quiet then.
For the first time since Luke had walked into the library, the performance slipped.
His gaze drifted past the bourbon glass toward a small silver-framed photograph tucked behind the leather blotter on his desk.
Cal.
Maybe twelve years old.
Grinning from the back of a raw-boned colt with the mountains stretched clean and endless behind him.
Something old and exhausted moved briefly across Wade’s face.
“I cut the timber on this ridge with my own hands to clear space for those barns,” Wade said quietly.
The smooth country-club charm was gone from his voice now. What remained sounded older. Worn thin in places.
“Everything I built out here, I built so that boy would never have to look another man in the eye and ask permission to live.”
Luke stayed still.
Wade looked away, his gaze hardening into something cold and permanent.
“I don’t lose sleep over twenty-seven-year-old small-town gossip,” Wade said smoothly, “and I certainly don’t care about the hurt feelings of a farrier.”
A long pause settled into the library, the country-club mask sliding carefully back into place as Wade leaned back slowly. The easy smile returned.
He picked up the bourbon glass again.
“Like I said, Deputy… a man thinks of his family first.”
Wade was about to continue when the heavy library doors swung open.
“Dad? You in here?”
Cal stepped into the room, looking wind-blown and invigorated from the Ridge. Right behind him was Izzy. She looked polished, but Luke caught the tension in her jaw and the way her hand stayed buried in the pocket of her field jacket.
“Well now,” Wade beamed, standing up with his arms open. “Look at this. My two favorite travelers are back. Izzy, darlin’, come here. Did you find me a painting for that wall yet, or are you still holding out for a masterpiece?”
Izzy’s eyes flickered to Luke, then back to Wade. She maintained a perfect, gallery-honed mask. “I think I found exactly what we were looking for, Mr. Hollis.”
Wade turned to Luke, his hand resting familiarly on Cal’s shoulder. “Deputy, I don’t believe you’ve met my son’s friend—or maybe it’s girlfriend by now, the way these two have been huddling—Isabella Moreno. She’s out of Denver.”
Luke stood up, baffled for a split second before his professional mask snapped back. He’d seen her at Grant’s. He knew the brothers were protective of her. Seeing her here, in the heart of the Hollis estate, felt wrong on a fundamental level.
“Yes,” Luke said, nodding to her. “Of course. Hey, Izzy. Good to see you again.”
“You too, Luke,” she said, her voice a flat, steady line.
“Is everything all right, Deputy?” Cal asked, his eyes moving between Luke and his father.
“Just clearing up some old history,” Wade answered for him, his voice as smooth as the bourbon on his desk. “But I think we’re about done here. Why don’t you three head out to the terrace? I’ll join you for a late lunch in a minute.”
Luke caught the look Izzy gave him—a sharp, almost imperceptible warning. She wasn’t just a ‘friend’ at lunch; she was holding a live grenade, and Wade Hollis had no idea he was sitting in the blast zone.