Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Vance
Deputy Hawkins marched behind me as I made my way to one of the only vacant hay bales left. She plopped down beside me, keeping her eyes straight ahead and putting as much distance as she could between our bodies.
She hadn’t wanted me here. I’d known that and I’d come anyway, letting curiosity dictate my decision. Seeing the complete misery on her face made me regret it.
“Your mom seems nice,” I said, trying to smooth things over.
She ignored the comment, letting out an irritated huff before words bubbled out of her so quickly I could barely follow them.
“Listen, you should know that she’s desperate to set me up with someone, and for whatever reason, she just picked you.
I would apologize for that, but you didn’t exactly help the situation, did you?
” She began shoveling chili into her mouth like she was a prisoner eating her last meal.
I laughed out loud, surprised by her honesty. “What do you mean I didn’t help?”
She glared at me. “I gave you a look. Don’t tell me you couldn’t figure out what it meant.”
Oh, I’d known what it meant. But I had been too curious to walk away.
“Now she’s met you, and you’re all”—she gestured impatiently at me—“you know, you, and she knows we’re working together, so you should be warned. She’ll be a nightmare.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to interpret her comment about me being me . Me as in … what? Did Claire find me attractive, despite her obvious disdain? The thought was strangely enticing.
I winked at her. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
She shot me another look—one that said don’t be stupid .
“Only if you consider it to be some sort of compliment that you’re a male without a wedding ring on your finger.
” She gave me an exaggerated eye roll. “Congratulations. You’re a man and you’re single.
We should alert the newspaper on your incredible achievements. ”
This girl had a mouth on her.
A mouth I suddenly found very appealing.
“I see,” I said, amused. “So is that why you wanted me to eat at Whiskey Creek? So that your mom wouldn’t know about me?”
“Yep.” She let out a little growl. “I wouldn’t even have told you about the guest dinner, but I knew whoever checked you in would, so you’d find out anyway. And if Mom found out we were working together and I hadn’t invited you, I would never hear the end of it.”
“Well, for future reference, if you don’t want me to come to something, you should just tell me outright. Trying to manipulate me just makes me curious.”
She flattened her lips. “Yeah, I realized afterward that I’d messed up there.”
“Lesson number one. Partners have to be honest with each other.”
She gave me a look I couldn’t quite read. And as I gazed at her, I stopped trying.
Her green eyes sparkled in the fading sunlight, the deep swirls of green, blue, and gold reminding me of the sea.
Like the ocean in Maine right after a storm, when the sun finally broke through the clouds again.
Those faint freckles spattered across her skin reminded me of the constellations that would soon appear across the Wyoming skies, a sight I’d fallen in love with the first time I’d set foot in this state.
It was like she spent so much time underneath them that they’d marked themselves on her.
With her hair down again, flowing from beneath her brown cowboy hat, she looked freer.
More relaxed than she’d been in uniform.
She was absolutely beautiful.
Her cheeks turned pink. She dropped her gaze, then turned away from me.
I shook myself, realizing I’d stared too long, and followed her line of sight to where a gray-haired cowboy was crossing the yard.
He walked quickly, despite a slight limp, heading straight for Naomi.
When he reached her, he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her right in front of everyone, dipping her down and earning a cheer from the crowd.
“Is that your dad?” I asked.
Claire nodded. “Yeah. Walker Hawkins.”
“Walker and Naomi,” I said, repeating their names. “I met Beth and you mentioned your brothers Cole and Rhett. Is that it?”
“Nope.” She snorted. “But you have an impressive memory for names.”
“Part of the job. How many siblings do you have in all?”
“Six.”
I nearly choked on the bite of cornbread I’d just put in my mouth. “Six? Really?”
“Yeah. Travis is the oldest. Then Cole, then me, then Rhett. Rhett and I are just ten months apart, so we grew up kind of like twins. Beth has an actual twin named Finn—he’s a professor in Montana. They came next. And that’s my baby brother, Jonathan.”
She pointed at a lanky kid I guessed to be about eighteen or nineteen. He wore a black cowboy hat and leather chaps, and he had left the top few buttons of his western shirt undone. He walked with an exaggerated swagger and had two teenage girls following him around, hanging on to his every word.
“He looks like quite the ladies’ man,” I commented.
“Oh, he is.” She laughed. “All my brothers have been, to be honest with you, but I think Jonathan will end up taking the prize. He can’t fight ’em off.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s trying,” I said, winking.
“Those girls are tourists,” she explained, a little grin on her face. “I swear, every teenage girl who comes here falls in love with him. Some of them keep mailing love letters for months.”
I cracked up. The kid probably enjoyed his job here—maybe too much. Then I whistled as I thought back over all the names she’d listed off. “Seven kids. Wow. That’s a lot.”
I’d always wanted siblings. Wanted someone to have camaraderie with instead of being the only pawn between two parents at war. With a childhood as cold as mine, I couldn’t imagine growing up in such a big, warm family.
Because that was something else I’d noticed watching Claire. The love she had for her family was fierce. It shone in her eyes when she talked about them.
She shrugged. “Mom’s a devout Catholic. Took the whole procreation thing pretty seriously. How about you?”
“I’m Protestant.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean how many siblings do you have?”
I grinned. “I know. Sorry. I’m an only child.”
“Figures.”
“What do you mean?”
This time, she was the one smirking. “You seem like someone who’s used to being the center of attention. Plus, I get the impression you don’t play well with others.”
My eyes widened. “Oh really?”
“Really.” She laughed and nudged me with her elbow, letting me know she was just teasing. “So where did you grow up? You’re clearly not Wyoming born and raised.”
“What makes you think that?”
She gestured to my boots. “Those. No one I know would ever be caught dead wearing them.”
I laughed. “What’s wrong with my boots?”
“They’re too new. Makes you look like a city slicker who’s never done any real work.”
“So you’re saying I should muddy them up.”
“That’s a start. But I still wouldn’t believe you’re from here. The accent’s wrong.”
“You’re perceptive,” I said, giving her another long look. She’d proven it at the crime scene, and she was proving it here, too.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You’re also nosy.” I narrowed my eyes, even as my lips twisted into a playful smile.
She grinned. “And you’re stalling.”
She wasn’t wrong. I didn’t usually talk about my history, partly because I preferred keeping it to myself and partly because most people didn’t ask.
Claire Hawkins wasn’t most people.
But I owed her something—something personal. After all, I’d come here, despite knowing she didn’t want me to. I’d introduced myself to her mom, knowing she wanted me to stay away. And I’d questioned her about her family without a second thought.
“I was born in New York,” I said. “But I split my time between there and Maine as a kid. Mostly Maine. Moved full-time to NYC for college. Went to work for the NYPD the fall after I graduated and stayed there until I took the job with DCI. ”
She was quiet for a second. “Parents divorced?”
“Yeah.”
“That bites.”
I shrugged. “I was six. I can barely remember a time when they weren’t divorced.”
She glanced my way, like she was the one trying to read me this time. “I’m guessing your mom lived in Maine, your dad lived in New York?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“What part of Maine?”
“Seal Harbor. It’s a small neighborhood close to Bar Harbor and Acadia.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Oh, I’ve heard of it. A ‘small neighborhood’ that happens to be the vacation playground for the rich and famous.”
I tilted my head toward her in confirmation.
She snorted. “Well, that certainly explains the six-hundred-dollar boots and the fancy leather jacket on a DCI salary. What it doesn’t explain is why the hell you’re working for Wyoming DCI to begin with. Money like that, NYPD detective on your résumé… That’s an odd move, Weston.”
I shot her a look. “ Very nosy,” I murmured.
She laughed out loud. “Said the man who showed up for dinner here just because he was curious. ”
“Fair point.”
“How’s the chili?” she asked, changing the subject.
“It’s great. Best chili I’ve ever had,” I said, meaning it.
“Mom’s a fantastic cook.”
“She is. I’m glad I came.” I meant that, too—especially now that Claire had relaxed and the misery on her face had been replaced with a happy kind of calm.
She was different out here.
It hit me that I was, too. Tonight was unusual for me. I typically hyper-focused on my cases, barely taking the time to eat. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d relaxed outside on a beautiful evening or even had a conversation that didn’t involve work.
“I guess I’m glad you came, too. Maybe it’s good you’ve met Mom,” she said, letting out a long breath of resignation. “Now, that’s over and we can just focus on the investigation.”
“Absolutely.” But I was surprised to realize I didn’t want to think about the investigation at all.
After dinner, I strolled back to my cabin alone, enjoying the quiet.
Most of the guests were still at the bonfire, chowing down on s’mores while Walker entertained them with cowboy stories.
Their voices faded as I walked, until all I could hear was the soft whinnies of the horses in the nearby pasture.
Bright stars filled the sky, so clear you could see the Milky Way.
You didn’t get skies like this in New York City.
As I walked, my thoughts drifted back to Claire.
She was smart. Strong. But she didn’t have the personality of a cop, and she seemed much happier out on the ranch—at least when her mother wasn’t pestering her.
The place appeared to be a successful tourist operation, employing most of the family.
She clearly loved her siblings, and it seemed like there was more than enough work to employ her, too.
Why had she chosen a different path?
Not my business, I reminded myself. I was here for one reason only: to solve Katelyn’s murder.
One final investigation as a DCI special agent before I moved on.
My new job was waiting for me as soon as I closed this case. It added another layer of motivation. The quicker I wrapped things up here, the quicker I could start the next chapter of my life. Which meant I shouldn’t waste time with Claire Hawkins.
She’d done well with her assignment today.
And she was surprisingly perceptive, a fantastic skill for a detective.
She had a ton of potential. But no matter how bright she was, she was still completely inexperienced and I didn’t have time to train her in the field.
She could handle the paperwork while I worked the investigation.
Alone.
When I reached my door, I let myself in and tossed my keys into the bowl at the entryway, flicking on the lights to get a better look at the cabin I’d barely glanced at earlier.
The place was styled to look rustic, but the quality of the furniture and the included amenities put the rental on par with some of the better resorts I’d been to.
It had a fully stocked kitchenette with a solid oak table, a living area with a stone fireplace and full-grain leather furniture, and a private bedroom with luxurious linens and a great view of the mountains.
The floors were spotless and the furniture shined.
The faint scents of cedar and citrus gave the place a fresh, clean feeling.
The Hawkins family had a great operation, and staying here would be a giant step up from the motel in town.
Satisfied, I threw my jacket onto a kitchen chair and grabbed my files.
Then I headed to the living area, flicked on the standing lamp, and sank down into the oversized leather armchair, propping my feet up on the matching footstool.
Before long, I was lost in my notes, searching for something that would unlock this case.
A connection, a clue, a detail nobody had noticed.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and scanned the text message.
Good evening, Agent Weston. This is Sgt. Trey Collins from the Sage County SO. I’d love to be of assistance on this case.
I sent him a quick text back.
Thanks. I appreciate the offer.
I put my phone down, meaning for that to be the end of it, but it buzzed again seconds later.
I bet you do, after today lol. I could tell you were as surprised as I was that Sheriff McGrath assigned Hawkins to you. We both know she’s out of her league on this one. I’m sure if you request a change, he’ll make it happen.
I frowned. This was definitely over the line. And if this was how Claire’s colleagues talked about her, no wonder she was so uncomfortable at the office. I decided to be more direct in my answer.
Apologies for being unclear. I appreciate the offer, but Sheriff McGrath assigned Deputy Hawkins to the case and she and I have it covered. I believe the sheriff needs your assistance keeping the town running smoothly.
Dots appeared, showing he was typing again. But after a few seconds, they stopped, and whatever message he’d begun typing went unsent.
Probably a good thing.
I put my hands behind my head, letting my thoughts drift again to Claire.
I couldn’t figure out why it pissed me off so much that Collins had denigrated her that way.
He wasn’t wrong—I had been surprised. She was still green and lacked investigative experience.
And hadn’t I already decided that I didn’t have time to train her?
I felt bad for her, but I wasn’t here to make friends.
One last case. I couldn’t afford a distraction.