Chapter Twelve
Blair woke before he did. She lay still for a moment, aware of the unfamiliar weight of his arm across her waist, the sound of his breathing slow and deep beside her. The room was gray with early light and the house was quiet. She turned her head carefully so as not to wake him and looked at him.
He’d stayed.
She hadn’t been sure he would, even after everything.
She’d half expected to wake up alone, his side of the bed empty and his truck gone from the driveway.
But he was here, his face relaxed in sleep in a way it never quite was when he was awake, and something in her chest settled at the sight of it.
She thought about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
The fight on the stairs, him walking out, the call from Celine, the hospital, his hands laced through hers in that waiting room.
I’m in love with you. Said quietly, without fanfare, like it had simply become too true to keep to himself any longer, and she believed him.
She eased carefully out from under his arm and slipped out of bed, reaching for her robe from the hook on the back of the door. In the kitchen she made herself a cup of coffee and stood at the window watching the morning come in over the rooftops.
She heard him on the stairs a few minutes later and put a cup on for him.
He appeared in the doorway in yesterday’s jeans and nothing else, hair still messed from sleep, and she thought he looked absolutely devastating first thing in the morning, which seemed deeply unfair.
“Your coffee is almost ready,” she said.
“Good.” He came into the kitchen and without a word pulled her back against his chest and pressed his lips to the top of her head. They stood like that for a moment, his arms loose around her, both watching the coffee brew.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked.
“Better than I have in a while.” His voice was still rough from sleep. “You?”
“Same.”
He turned her around to face him and looked at her for a moment, his eyes moving over her face like he was taking inventory. Then he kissed her softly, unhurried, the kind of kiss that had nothing to prove.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he said against her lips. “The fight. I should have told you the minute I walked in.”
“We both should have handled it differently.” She smoothed her hand along his jaw, the stubble coming in thick. “It’s done.”
He nodded and reached past her to lift his mug, then they carried their cups to the small table by the window and sat across from each other in the quiet morning light.
“I need to go to the hospital this morning,” he said after a while.
“I know. I want to come with you if that’s alright.”
He looked at her over the rim of his mug. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the kind that didn’t need filling. Blair thought that this, just this, was what she’d been wanting. Not the grand gestures or the words, though those had mattered too. Just a quiet morning and a man who stayed.
Later, Hud drove them to the hospital. She could feel his anxiety in the set of his jaw and the quiet that had come over him on the drive. She hoped with everything she had that Creed was going to pull through. She knew it would devastate him if he lost Creed.
After parking, he stepped from the truck, and she met him at the front. He took her hand and they went inside, found out Creed’s room number and rode the elevator up. They were passing the nurse’s station when a nurse stepped out to meet them.
“I’m sorry, visiting hours aren’t until later.”
“Yes, ma’am. But I need to see that Creed McBride is alright. We work together. He was with me when he was shot.”
The nurse hesitated, then gave a short nod. “One visitor.” She returned to her seat.
They walked down the corridor and stopped at Creed’s door. Blair looked through the window. Abbie was asleep in the chair beside the bed.
“Abbie’s sleeping,” she said quietly.
“I’ll be quiet. Won’t take long.”
Blair nodded. “I’ll be right here.”
Hud kissed her forehead and slipped inside.
****
Hud wrapped his hand around the doorknob, turned it slowly and stepped inside.
The room was dim and quiet, the monitors casting a soft glow.
He made his way to the bed and stopped. Creed was pale, paler than Hud had ever seen him, but the monitors beeped in a steady rhythm and Hud held onto that.
Creed’s eyes were open, fixed on Abbie where she’d fallen asleep in the chair beside him, her hand wrapped around his.
“Creed,” Hud said quietly.
Creed turned his head. “Hey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like someone shot me.” His voice was low and rough, careful not to wake Abbie. “Sore as hell. But I’ll make it.”
“Yeah you will.” Hud pulled a chair up on the other side of the bed and sat down. He looked at his friend for a moment, at the bandaging visible above the hospital gown, and felt the full weight of how close it had been. “You scared the hell out of me out there.”
Creed’s mouth curved slightly. “Wasn’t exactly my plan.”
“No, I don’t suppose it was.” Hud leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “White and most of his crew are in custody. I’m waiting to hear if Whittingham was among them.”
Creed looked at him. “Good.” A pause. “Blair here?”
“In the hallway.”
Something crossed Creed’s face that might have been satisfaction. “Good,” he said again.
“I’m just glad you’re alright.”
“I’m tough.” He said it without bravado, just as a simple fact.
“Nobody’s going to argue with that.” Hud glanced at Abbie still sleeping in the chair. “She’ll get you through this.”
“She always does.” Creed’s eyes went back to his wife and stayed there.
Hud stood. “I’ll let you rest. I’ll see you once they spring you.”
“Thanks for coming, Hud.”
“You’re welcome.”
He slipped out and found Blair in the hallway. She looked at him and he gave her a small nod that said what he didn’t want to say out loud just yet. She exhaled and took his hand as they walked toward the elevator.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it from his shirt pocket and read the message from Beau.
No Whittingham in the group. Is he someone we need to pursue?
Hud typed back. He’s mine. I want to look him in the eye when I put the cuffs on.
Need backup?
Wouldn’t hurt.
Say the word. Take care of yourself.
He pocketed the phone and looked at Blair.
“I have to go back to Whitefish.”
“Today?”
“No. I need to talk to Dave first. Tomorrow at the earliest.”
She nodded slowly. “I was hoping you might take a few days.”
“I know. I can’t yet. There’s one man still out there who thinks he walked away clean.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.”
Blair looked at him for a moment, then nodded again, more settled this time. “Okay. Be careful.”
“Always.”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. Blair looked at him. “Why wasn’t this man there last night with the others?”
“Because I think he’s the one who was running the whole operation from a distance. Something felt off when I talked to him and his wife. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but it stayed with me.”
“Trusting your gut?”
“Always. Sometimes I’m wrong.” The doors opened and they walked out into the lobby. “Most times I’m not.”
She slipped her hand back into his as they pushed through the main doors into the morning air.
“You won’t go alone.”
“No. Beau will go with me. He was out there last night and he knows the case.”
Blair nodded and he could see her processing it, filing it away in whatever place she was learning to keep his work. Not easy, but she was doing it.
“Okay,” she said finally.
He stopped beside his truck and turned to face her. “I know it’s not simple, what I do.”
“No.” She looked up at him. “But it’s who you are.” She reached up and touched his face briefly. “Just come back in one piece.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kissed her once, soft and quick. “I’ll do my best.”
Tuesday morning, Hud pulled up to the Whittingham property with Beau beside him. The place looked the same as before. Quiet, well kept, nothing that would draw a second look.
He and Beau stepped out and walked to the door. Hud knocked.
Carla Whittingham opened it. She went pale when she saw him.
“Mrs. Whittingham. Is your husband home?”
“He’s not here.”
“His truck’s in the driveway.”
She glanced toward it. “He just left. Must have taken someone else’s vehicle.”
“He must have taken someone else’s vehicle?” Beau said, then looked at Hud, who shrugged.
“I’m going to need you to step outside, ma’am.” Hud motioned for her to come out onto the porch.
“I don’t understand what—”
“I think you do.” He held her gaze until she looked away.
She stepped out and Beau moved beside her without a word.
Hud turned back to the house and listened. Movement. Back of the house.
He was already moving.
“Stay with her, Beau. I’ll check it out.”
“Yell if you need me.”
Hud moved through quickly, clearing each room as he went. Kitchen empty, hallway clear. Footsteps above him. He took the stairs two at a time.
A door slammed at the end of the hall.
He tried the handle. Locked. He stepped back, kicked it and the frame splintered and gave way.
Whittingham was at the window, one leg already over the sill.
“Don’t.” Hud’s weapon came up. “Don’t do it.”
Whittingham froze.
“Step back from the window. Hands where I can see them.”
The man pulled his leg back inside and turned around slowly, face red, breath coming fast.
“Agent Anderson.” He tried for a smile that didn’t land. “I can explain—”
“I’m sure you can.” Hud crossed the room and turned him toward the wall.
“But I’m not interested right now.” He pulled Whittingham’s hands behind his back and snapped the cuffs on.
“Bart Whittingham, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit livestock theft, insurance fraud and accessory to the assault of a law enforcement officer. ”
He walked him back down the stairs and out the front door.