Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Claire
When I stepped out of Sheriff McGrath’s office and saw Vance waiting for me in the hallway, the poker face I’d maintained in front of the sheriff collapsed. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, struggling to breathe as the devastation of it all threatened to break me right there.
Vance came to my side and took my arm, supporting me as he guided me through the hallway toward the doors. It was the kind of thing I’d normally push away, insisting I could take care of myself. Instead, I leaned on his strength, let it be an anchor for emotions that battered me like a stormy sea.
When we pushed through the doors into the sunshine, I finally felt able to take a full breath. The tightness in my chest eased.
But Vance didn’t let go.
“What happened?” His eyes searched my face, my body, like he was afraid I’d been hurt.
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk. Not here.
He understood, even though I didn’t say a word. He relaxed his grip but kept his hand on me until I was inside his vehicle. I stared out the window, mulling over what had just happened as Vance walked around to his door.
Sheriff McGrath wanted this case to go cold.
Worse, he hoped I would cover up the truth, actually help whoever had done this get away with it.
What other explanation could there be for the things he had said?
Everything within me tried to deny it. This was Sheriff McGrath we were talking about. Sure, he and I disagreed sometimes. But never on something like this.
Every fiber of my being hoped that I had misunderstood him completely, that the investigation was just making me paranoid. But the swirling storm in my gut told me that’s not what I believed.
I was totally and utterly confused. I respected Sheriff McGrath. He was my mentor. The one person who had actually seen something in me and believed I could do this job. And I knew he cared about our town, that he’d done a great job here.
He was also right—I did understand that things weren’t always black and white. That had been the primary source of contention between us since I’d gotten the job. But I was usually the one wanting to bend the rules, not him.
I felt sick.
If that’s why he’d put me on this case, if he truly wanted me to do that with a homicide investigation… That was totally different.
He didn’t know me at all.
I buried my head in my hands, trying to figure out an explanation for his words that meant anything other than him being a corrupt sheriff at best, a killer at worst.
Maybe he knew something I didn’t. Maybe he knew that it had been an accident, that whoever had killed her never meant for it to happen and had panicked and tried to hide the body. My heart sank again. You didn’t “accidentally” put your hands around someone’s throat and choke them.
Unless it was some kind of weird sex game gone wrong. The thought of that made me shudder.
Regardless, if Sheriff McGrath knew something that big, he was breaking some serious rules by keeping it to himself. I could maybe understand not telling us about the coffee shop. But anything more than that was a crime.
I couldn’t respect that.
I looked over and found Vance watching me, his eyes revealing a mixture of worry and anger.
“What the hell happened in there?” His voice was gruffer than I’d ever heard it.
I shook my head. Voicing it, telling him what I feared… I wasn’t sure I could do it without vomiting.
He put his hand on mine, stroking it gently with his thumb. Despite everything, my heart fluttered. The weight of his hand felt reassuring, like I was fighting my way through a storm and he was offering me a lifeline.
A lifeline I desperately wanted to grab on to.
“Claire. Come on. What’s wrong?”
I found myself wanting to spill it all to him—to trust him with this and for us to figure out what to do together.
But I still couldn’t speak those awful words out loud.
His eyes searched mine. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his jaw set.
I didn’t speak the entire drive back to the ranch. But my mind still raced. I went over every word Sheriff McGrath had said, willing them to have different meanings.
I felt cold. Numb. Like the SAR victims we rescued who were dealing with shock. Only my shock wasn’t from physical trauma… It was from utter disbelief. From my whole world being upended.
When Vance pulled up to the ranch house, I took a sharp inhale and shook my head. “I can’t.” They were the first words I’d spoken since leaving Sheriff McGrath’s office and they felt strange on my tongue.
The worry in his eyes grew. “You can’t what?”
“I can’t be around them right now,” I choked out. I was a mess, falling apart in a way I would never let them see. I couldn’t take the questions they would ask.
Couldn’t handle them seeing me this weak.
Vance gave a sharp nod, then turned his SUV around and drove it straight to his cabin.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you inside.”
I followed him into his cabin, grateful for his understanding.
“Sit,” he said, motioning to the rustic kitchen table and chairs. Then he opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass, filling it with water before putting it in front of me. “Drink.”
“It’s going to take something stronger than that,” I said, forcing a laugh. But I drank the water anyway.
He refilled the cup and handed it back to me. “You need food.”
“I’m fine.” I shook myself, irritated at my own weakness.
A whisper of amusement—and relief—flickered in his eyes. “Okay, then I need food. Will you be alright while I go get us something to eat? If I promise to bring something stronger back to drink with it?”
I nodded, then drained the second glass of water.
He sized me up, then returned my nod before leaving me alone with the thoughts I didn’t want to face.
I was curled up in the corner of his leather sofa when he came back an hour later, his arms full of packages. He dropped them onto the kitchen table, then pulled a dark bottle from one of the brown paper bags.
“Something stronger, as promised.”
I uncurled myself and crossed the room, eyeing the bottle of single-malt scotch. “You have excellent taste.”
“I asked Beth what your favorite wine was. She said whiskey.” He smirked.
“She’s right.” I cracked a grin. “Though I can’t say I’ve ever splurged on a bottle like this before.”
His eyes sparkled. “This is nothing. Top-shelf at the local liquor store, but if you really want to taste something incredible, I’ll have to introduce you to my father’s collection sometime.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
He pushed a large reusable grocery bag my way. “Also thanks to Beth.”
I opened it and found jeans, sweaters, and my cowboy boots. I shot him a quizzical look.
He shrugged. “I didn’t know how soon you would feel ready to go home, and I figured you’d rather get out of that uniform sooner rather than later.
I asked her to pack up whatever you might need for a day or two.
Told her we needed to do some undercover work for the investigation.
That should eliminate any questions until you’re ready to go home. ” He winked.
“Thanks,” I said, blinking back my surprise at his thoughtfulness—and his total willingness to let me hide out here, even though I hadn’t told him why I needed to.
“I’m sure you know where the bathroom is if you want to change before we eat,” he said, jerking his head in that direction as he began pulling takeout containers from the final bag on the table.
I hesitated for less than two seconds before grabbing the bag and heading to the bathroom to strip out of my wretched uniform.