Chapter 7 #2
Walker looked at the counter area with a critical eye.
There wasn’t anything of value that he could see, simply big mason jars filled with buttons and seashells and whatnot.
Empty gift boxes lining the long shelf. Beneath the glass were a few pieces of costume jewelry, nothing like the ones upstairs, but he supposed they were pretty enough.
On the walls, the establishment’s business license and health department certificate sat next to the fire marshal’s sign for occupancy.
There weren’t any valuable paintings or statuary, just obvious folk art and taxidermy.
What the hell had the guy been looking for? What had been so important that he’d knocked Serena cold, then continued his search when she could have awoken at any time?
“There’s nothing missing. At all.” Serena’s brow was crunched in exasperation. “Why even bother? I mean, there’s some stuff here in the case you could easily hock for a few bucks, but he didn’t even touch them.”
“Because he was looking for something specific,” Walker said slowly as he pondered.
He thought of Mr. Higgins from yesterday and his dogged search for his figurine, but immediately dismissed the man.
He’d been hunch-shouldered and had shuffled his feet a bit, even though his height was close.
No, Higgins had personified downtrodden, not someone who stealthed into houses and moved like someone who’d been trained to be sneaky—or came by it naturally.
Marlon Jones on the other hand… Now he had the right body composition and was young enough to move that way.
There was also a kid named Bobby who hung out here a lot who should be looked at as well. He also hit the mark when it came to physical characteristics.
But he wasn’t going to bring any of that up to Serena right this second. Instead, he’d give his hypothesis to Garrett and let the sheriff take it from there. His job was to keep Serena safe and that started with getting her out to the ranch where he had control and knew the perimeter was secure.
“Can you afford being closed for two mornings in a row?” he asked as he ushered her through the kitchen, then locked the back door behind them.
Serena didn’t seem to notice his herding.
She was probably still trying to puzzle out motive, which was fine with Walker.
He’d rather have her thinking about that than the fact the asshole had poked around in her place for a long damned time while she’d lay in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. That was some cold-blooded shit.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine being closed,” she said as she climbed into his truck.
“Madeline gifted the house to me, and I came with a good nest egg. Gena’s my only employee right now, and she was already scheduled to be off for today and tomorrow.
I’ll text her when we leave, to let her know what’s going on, although she’s probably already heard through the rumor mill. ”
That explained why no one had been there at five to find Serena. Had the assailant known that she’d be alone? That spoke to more than a casual burglary.
They pulled out of the parking lot and drove through the tiny downtown area comprised of Victorian homes in various states of upgrade or disrepair, and the businesses around the square, most built before the turn of the last century, and fronted by an honest-to-goodness boardwalk.
Even though he’d grown up with it, Walker had to admit it was special.
Serena turned to face him. “So, I’ve been dying to ask about this movie I keep hearing about. Spill all the details.”
Walker groaned in response. He knew a change in subject when he heard one, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t deny her an answer, even if it was one of his least favorite subjects.
“I’m surprised no one ambushed you into watching it already.
It seems like a lifetime ago. Basically me and the rest of the Last Light team were in a battle and had an embedded photojournalist with us.
You may have heard of him. Taylor McCullough. ”
“He always reminded me of an Anthony Bourdain kind of guy,” she said. “World-weary but still needing to experience as much as he can.”
Walker nodded in approval. “I never really thought of him in that context, but yeah, that describes him pretty well. He was already one of the team before that last stand, but when he put down his camera and picked up a weapon, he proved himself to us all. But before he took that step, he went against everything he’d promised to do when he embedded—he livestreamed his feed.
He captured every moment of the battle until it caught someone’s attention and they scrambled the nearest evac unit, which was infuriatingly close, and we were airlifted out.
He wrote a book, then that book got adapted for a movie using his footage.
It was a small film, independently made, but was accepted at Cannes.
The United States critics called it ‘the Alamo for a new age.’ Won the Jury Prize.
” He shrugged. “The military was in a bad place, PR wise,” he shot her a look, “which you understand, so they put us on display and gave us fifteen minutes of fame, which none of us wanted. But the money it earned when it hit the big screen gave us the ability to buy and build Last Light into what it is today.”
Their time in that hellhole had been so much more than the words he’d used to describe it, but he and his men had worked through the trauma and the physical damage.
Mostly. If she chose to watch the documentary, she’d see how they’d been left to die until Taylor’s livestream went viral and poked the right people in the ass.
Then he winced. She’d also see him getting shot. He imagined her response would be similar to his mother’s—indignant outrage and then demands to see the healed wound. With his mother it’d been the worry of seeing her only child ventilated, even if it had been a fairly minor wound.
The whole thing had been a clusterfuck of monumental proportions, and he knew there’d been a string of firings and demotions following the rescue, and even more when the movie started to hit. The thought filled him with immense satisfaction.
“What about your folks?” she asked, moving on to their shared past. “Are they still down in Phoenix?”
He nodded as they pulled onto the two-lane highway leading into the mountains.
He hadn’t realized this drive was going to be a catching-up interlude, but it made sense.
They hadn’t made the time to do it so far, and they were trapped in the truck for the next few minutes.
He’d rather distract her with words than have her mind drift back to this morning.
Why hadn’t he invited her up to the ranch to reconnect before now? Before she’d been traumatized? That was what friends did. As soon as he thought the questions, he knew the answer.
He’d been afraid. Big, bad Walker Landry was afraid of getting close to Serena’s fire again. Scared of doing something wrong and torching one of the few good romantic memories he had. He was pretty good at sex, but the relationship part? The part where romance mattered? Not so much.
He forced himself to answer her question and not dwell on his own shortcomings. He’d spent far too much time navel gazing when he and Carrie split and he was done analyzing how everything had fallen apart.
“Dad’s not doing so great; nothing major, just age,” he clarified as he pulled his mind back to the question she’d asked.
“That was one of the reasons I relocated to Phoenix. You know they were older when I was born and he lived a hard life.” His father had been gone more often than not working as a rigger on oil wells throughout Texas and Oklahoma.
That kind of lifestyle took it out of you, though the money was great.
“Mom’s got his care covered for the most part, but I wanted to help out where I could.
I’ve got the money to put them up wherever they want to be, so I did.
Got the requisite amount of arguing from them but eventually they caved. ”
They turned off the highway and began the mile-long trek up the rutted trail. “So Madeline decided on an around-the-world cruise?” he asked, shifting the conversation back to her.
She laughed. “Yeah. She hooked up with some stud muffin guitar player who’s working for the ship and now all I hear about is how they’re going and doing this, that and the other thing.
I mean I’m glad she’s experiencing it, I want her to live that life, but it’s weird to hear about her hot sex life at sixty-five. ”
Walker snorted out a laugh. “I can see her doing that all right,” he paused in front of the plain, solid gate and punched a code into the truck’s nav system. The gate opened smoothly, belying its appearance.
“What about your dad?” he asked as they pulled through and the gate closed behind them. Her family, and her father specifically, had always been a touchy subject. “Is he still in D.C.?”
She nodded, her expression closing off for the first time. After everything that’d happened this morning, all it took was a mention of Parker Gates to make her withdraw, and Walker was sorry he’d been the cause of that change.
“He’s exactly the same,” she said, her tone all business, no emotion. “No big changes there. Still disappointed that I didn’t follow in his footsteps and become a lawyer, and now even more so because I chose to take over Aunt Madeline’s business and make it my own.”
They topped a small hill and the valley spread out before them, lush and verdant, covered with achingly green native grasses and gnarled mesquite and pi?on brush. Serena gasped, her mood completely changing, and Walker’s chest flooded with pride.
They’d built this. He and his friends.