Chapter 2
Three months later…
Walker entered The Menagerie a few minutes after eight a.m. Tuesday morning, the usual time for his weekly visit to town, and felt lighter, as he always did.
The sprawling old Victorian had been a fixture his entire childhood.
Back then Madeline Blackstone had owned the curio shop that held every treasure his young mind could imagine.
Now it was a cafe that served a limited breakfast and fancy coffee but had maintained the funky flair and wild decorations, along with a limited selection of Madeline’s old inventory.
Serena Blackstone looked up as the entry bells jingled and her expression turned from slightly pained to welcoming, almost relieved, as she saw Walker.
That relief made him go on alert despite himself, even though there were other people scattered through the café who could have intervened if the customer became abusive.
The man she spoke with at the counter was completely nondescript from behind, average height and weight, wearing tan chinos and a white polo shirt, expensive sneakers on his feet. He turned as he heard the bells and Walker relaxed as soon as he saw the visitor’s face.
He wasn't threatening. If anything, he looked like the human version of Eeyore, a bit worn, a bit downtrodden. Serena wasn’t apprehensive, she looked weary, probably from listening to the man's sad tale of woe.
Since the customer seemed to be merely annoying, Walker scanned the rest of the room, as he did any time he walked into a space.
The main dining area, which had once been the formal sitting area off the entryway, was about half full, with maybe ten locals he knew by sight, if not by name.
They were seated at a scattering of two- and four-top tables, in addition to a long family-style table that seated eight and was topped with a sign that declared it to be open seating if you weren’t in a large group.
Walker turned his attention to Serena. It’d been a pleasant shock to see her the when he’d walked into the café for the first time a month ago, curious as to what the old building had become.
He’d heard that Madeline was changing things up, but not that Serena had taken over.
It was a little strange they hadn’t run into each other since her arrival, but he’d been spending a lot of time in Montana with Hank and his team, shadowing them on the occasional mission and generally integrating himself into that world.
Serena had been his first love twenty years ago, and now they were in the getting-to-know-you-again phase. It had been an interesting experience so far, especially since they’d already seen each other naked.
He crossed the room and stood behind the woeful customer, trying and mostly succeeding at banishing all nakedness from his mind.
"As I was saying, Ms. Blackstone," the man continued, "Your aunt was holding a piece of statuary for me that she purchased at an estate sale. It's dear to me, and I'm only in town a few more days. I’m certainly willing to pay for the estimated value. I believe it’s two hundred and fifty dollars."
"I understand, Mr. Higgins," Serena said patiently.
"But Aunt Madeline is on a cruise right now, and her ability to communicate depends on her location.
I haven't heard from her in a few days, and I'm not sure when I will again.
I sent her a text and an email. I have your number.
If she contacts me, I'll reach out right away.
If it would be easier, I'll be happy to send it to you when we figure out where it is. "
Walker barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Madeline Blackstone's inventory system for the shop had always been sketchy at best, and since she rarely carried anything of value, it hadn't ever mattered. He was certain finding this man’s trinket would be an exercise in frustration.
He'd spent his summers rooting around The Menagerie when he wasn’t working at the feed store, looking for treasure, until his senior year when Serena had become his whole world.
The memory warmed him. She'd been the one that got away, for sure. They'd been a lot of things to each other two decades ago. Friends when she’d first arrived in town, the new girl with the crazy aunt. Then, that last summer, they'd been each other's first love. First everything.
"Excuse me, Mr. Higgins," she said and turned to Walker. "Good to see you, Walker." Her expression warmed significantly. "Your usual?"
"Please," he said and moved beside Higgins, leaning a hip against the counter as Serena moved away, staking his claim in a not-so-subtle way, hoping the man would take the hint and move along. Serena had given him the polite brush off, and Walker got the feeling it hadn't been the first time.
Higgins turned his morose gaze to Walker and gave a short nod. "I'll check in again tomorrow," he said.
Serena answered from the espresso machine, where she was frothing milk for Walker's latte. "Oh, don't go to the trouble," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be in touch as soon as I hear from Madeline."
Higgins harrumphed a little and shuffled his way to the door before walking out on a big sigh.
Walker suppressed a laugh as Serena turned and shot a baleful glance at the door as it closed.
"He won't listen," she said as she finished putting Walker's coffee together, then pulled a fresh Danish out of the display case.
"I get that this statuette is important to him.
Apparently, it was his mother's and has been in the family forever and was accidentally put into the estate sale. Or something like that."
Walker hummed beneath his breath and took a sip of his latte, looking at her over the rim of the cup.
She was more beautiful now than she'd been as a young woman, had matured from pretty into something that made his breath catch whenever he saw her.
Her long dark hair was pulled into a tail, and her blue eyes were almost shocking in a face that was distinctly Native American, courtesy of her Nordic father.
And her body, ah, her body was a work of art.
They’d put each other in the friend zone that day he’d walked in a month ago. It’d been unspoken, but there, nonetheless.
They weren’t the kids they’d been that summer so long ago, but over the last few weeks he’d started to get to know the woman she’d become, and found he really liked her. He wasn’t sure he had it in him anymore to hope for more than that.
Last week she’d mentioned she’d been burned by an asshole ex-boyfriend and he, quite honestly, had a less-than-stellar track record with women, as evidenced by an ex-wife who’d claimed he loved his damn friends more than he’d ever loved her.
He wondered if he and Carrie had ever truly been compatible.
But the lust had burned hot and running away to Vegas had seemed like a good idea at the time, something impulsive and daring and fun.
Something you did when you were a stupid lieutenant trying to reaffirm the fact you were still alive.
She’d been looking for the safety net of the military after a childhood spent in foster care.
She’d seemed happy until he’d separated from the Army and struck out on his own, began spending time at the ranch.
She’d hated country life, had loved the glitz and glamor of Vegas.
They couldn’t have been more opposite, and that difference in principles had been the death knell of their marriage.
Even the money from the movie hadn’t been able to save it.
Throwing himself into the team she’d begun to despise had been his salvation, and now he’d come to the conclusion this was his lot in life.
He’d tried to love and make himself vulnerable to someone, and it had failed.
It was both of their faults for being young and dumb and valuing different things, but now he was older and wiser, and wasn’t willing to continue doing something he obviously sucked at.
So when it came to Serena, friends it was.
But it burned, in a place he didn't want to think about too much. Because what they'd had that summer, twenty years ago, had been special. It'd simply taken time and distance and war for him to realize it.
The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Garrett Hanson enter.
He and the Sheriff had been warily circling around each other for the past few months, after the shootout at the ranch and all the weirdness it had entailed.
Walker didn't like the fact that they were on sketchy ground, especially with the new venture he was undertaking with the Brotherhood Protectors.
Hank Patterson’s right-hand man, Joseph “Kujo” Kuntz was due in tomorrow for a tour of the ranch and their operations and he'd like to have Hanson as an ally, not a potential foe.
In the weeks that followed the fracas last fall, the U.S.
Marshal Service had spun the sheriff’s department as a bunch of two-bit hicks without actually saying the words out loud.
Had implied that it’d been Garrett’s men who’d put the federal witness in danger through their inaction and Barney Fife aptitude, not the Service’s complete fuck up, which included a dirty Marshal.
The picture they’d created couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Garrett had done his time with the military, then returned to serve in a different way.
He’d brought his knowledge of battle and tactics and wrong and right home to Arizona after a dozen years in the Corps.
Every single action he’d taken as the head law enforcement officer for the county in the aftermath of the mercenary raid had been by the book and on point.
But the falsehoods had done their work, and while everyone in the know understood the situation for what it was, it still had to sting Garrett’s pride. He’d been leery around the Last Light crew ever since, and while Walker understood the man’s reticence, he wished things were different.
Garrett took off his Stetson and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, then dipped a nod at Walker as he stepped up to the counter. "Landry."