Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
VANCE
My boot splattered a puddle as I stepped out of my truck. The water sloshed onto the already drenched hem of my jeans. The wet denim hung heavy on my legs, and my coat, just as soggy, sagged on my shoulders. I’d have to wring out my beanie in the hotel’s bathroom sink and hang it to dry.
Though it would just get damp again tomorrow. But this wasn’t the first time I’d spent my days getting soaked while I slogged through mountains. Given the rainy forecast for tomorrow, it wouldn’t be the last.
I snagged my pack from the back seat, then slammed the truck’s door closed, shoving the keys into my pocket as I walked toward the hotel.
My stomach growled. Lyla’s coffee shop was like a golden beacon glowing bright on a gloomy, gray day. I could practically smell the sweet, rich scents. A sandwich, a cup of hot coffee, a few of her pastries would go a long way toward improving my mood.
But I kept moving forward, away from Eden Coffee, as I strode for the hotel.
It had been two days since I’d told Lyla about Cormac’s murders. What I’d shared was just a tip of that iceberg, but even sharing part of the story had been difficult. Every time I spoke about Cormac, about what he’d done, it left me feeling shaken. Frayed.
Four years had passed, and I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. What had happened that night? What had caused Cormac to snap? Was there something I could have done to stop him?
If Lyla knew the whole story, she’d ask the same questions.
So I’d avoided her and that charming coffee shop entirely. I was afraid she’d see through me. I was afraid she’d demand the details I’d omitted, and I wasn’t sure I had the strength to tell her no.
Except if she knew the truth, it would shatter her illusion. That blind faith she had in me would fade.
Her confidence in me was startling. Addictive.
No one believed in me, not like that. Not my captain. Not the other deputies in the department. Not my family. Not Tiff.
These days, people seemed to expect my failure. Or maybe I was just used to disappointing myself.
But Lyla . . .
She looked at me like I was her salvation.
The reality was, I’d likely disappoint her too. And that sat like a rock in my empty gut.
I’d spent two days combing the mountains for any sign of Cormac. Each day I drove back to Quincy, it was with empty hands.
Still, I wasn’t going to quit. Day by day, I was eliminating possible places where he could have built a shelter. Another day, maybe two, I’d have a section of my map to cross out.
My process wasn’t foolproof, but it was how I’d been taught to search for fugitives. And the man who’d taught me was the best.
His education was either going to bite me in the ass, or maybe, for once in my damn life, I’d get lucky. Though the rain wasn’t helping. With every drop, Cormac’s trail was being washed away.
A steady drizzle had greeted me this morning when I’d headed into the mountains. It had finally stopped raining about an hour ago, just as the sunlight had begun to fade, a signal that my day of hiking had come to an end.
Now it was time to dry out and prepare for tomorrow.
My boots squeaked on the floor as I walked inside The Eloise Inn. There was a couple at the desk, checking in. Suitcases crowded their feet as they spoke to a smiling Eloise Vale. Sitting stoically at her side was her husband, Jasper.
I hadn’t actually been introduced to Eloise or Jasper. A different desk clerk had checked me in when I’d arrived. And last night, when I’d come down to extend my reservation by two weeks, there’d been yet a different person stationed at the reception desk.
But I knew Jasper and Eloise from Quincy’s local paper. From the article about the shooting from this summer.
Was that why Eloise and Jasper were always together? The times I’d seen them, they were never far apart. My guess was that Jasper stuck close to his wife’s side—the man had taken a bullet for her.
I respected that devotion. In another life, I would have made it a point to introduce myself. To shake his hand.
Instead, I ducked my chin and walked with my head down, not wanting to draw any attention as I made my way to the stairwell and climbed to the fourth floor.
Even after a day spent hiking, pushing my body, I wasn’t ready to let up yet.
The physical outlet was my only release.
Maybe if I exhausted myself, I’d get some damn sleep.
Sleep was never easy, even at home in my own bed. Six hours a night was huge. Since I’d come to Quincy, it had been even more sporadic. Three or four hours was all I’d managed. I just couldn’t shut down my brain.
With nothing to do but dwell on my mistakes, on the clusterfuck that was my life, I’d climb out of bed and spend hours charting my hikes. I’d pore over the maps in my pack, memorizing every inch. And when that was done, I’d spend hours reading news about Quincy.
For a small town, this community had suffered more than its fair share of trouble.
About three years ago, there’d been a murder, a young woman in the mountains.
Indigo Ridge was more than twenty miles from where I was currently searching for Cormac.
But had the newspaper archives not detailed the crime and how Winslow Eden had apprehended the person responsible, I would have wondered if he’d been responsible.
After that murder, there’d been an incident at a local daycare and an AMBER alert.
Possibly an attempted kidnapping. Since it had involved a minor, the details hadn’t been released to the press.
However, I’d come across a few social media posts that speculated the child involved was none other than Knox Eden’s son.
The hardships for Lyla’s family hadn’t stopped there.
The most recent news articles all centered around Eloise and the shooting.
Lyla’s sister had been working in the lobby when a kid, a former hotel employee, had come in armed with a pistol.
He’d gotten off a few shots, one of which Jasper had taken for Eloise.
Then Winslow, who’d been in the building, had taken the kid down.
From everything I’d read, Winn was a damn good cop. Maybe it was stupid of me not to trust her. But I’d already made the decision to fly under the radar. That meant avoiding anyone with the last name Eden.
Except Lyla.
But I guess . . . I was avoiding her too.
Because I feared she’d ask about Cormac. And, if I was being honest with myself, because of how that woman stirred my blood.
I didn’t just wake up at night restless. I woke up hard and aching for release, Lyla’s striking eyes haunting my dreams.
Just the thought of her beautiful face sent blood rushing to my dick.
Of all the women, why did it have to be Lyla to capture my interest? Shit was complicated enough without adding this attraction into the mix.
I jogged up the last flight of stairs to the fourth floor, taking them two at a time, needing the burn in my thighs to shove the image of her pretty mouth wrapped around my cock out of my mind.
When I reached my room, I set my pack on the table and breathed in the clean scent of fresh laundry and citrus.
This was the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed in.
It was airy and spacious, yet it had a comfortable, homey feel.
The king-sized bed was comfortable and its white comforter plush.
Housekeeping had lined the pillows against the headboard.
The heavy curtains I’d left drawn this morning were now pulled away from the window.
I had a perfect, unobstructed view of the fog and mist that cloaked Quincy.
I crossed the room and tugged the curtains closed.
A long, hot shower was calling my name, so I stripped, letting my wet clothes plop on the floor.
My jeans smelled like rain and mud. Tomorrow night, I’d have to find a place to wash a load of laundry.
My suitcase in the corner was piled high with dirty clothes—today’s were tossed into the heap.
I had one pair of clean, dry jeans left in the dresser drawer.
Wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, I rounded the bed for the nightstand, snagging the two chocolate mints that the housekeeper left for me each day. I ate them both without hesitation. Maybe they’d tide me over until dinner.
Maybe I’d order room service from Knuckles again after my shower. The burgers were great. Though what I really wanted was one of Lyla’s chocolate croissants. Everything that woman made was top tier, but damn those croissants.
My stomach growled, the pangs sharpening to razor blades. But before I could disappear into the bathroom and get going on my shower, my phone rang. I walked to my pack, digging it out of the front pocket.
Alec.
He and I weren’t exactly friends. We were coworkers in the same department. Friendly, but not friends. I didn’t have a lot of friends in the department these days—I’d learned it was best to draw that line.
“Fuck.” If he was calling, it wasn’t to chat. Maybe he’d heard something about the shooting. Maybe the captain had said something in their weekly meeting. Whatever the point, I braced as I accepted the call. “Hey.”
“Hi, Vance. How’s it going?”
“Not bad, Alec. You?”
“Can’t complain.”
I waited, gritting my teeth.
“I ran into Tiff at the store earlier.”
Tiff and Alec had met at a few of the department’s mandatory gatherings over the years. The summer barbeques. The holiday parties. They’d bonded over their mutual love of karaoke.
I bet she’d told him where I was and what I was doing. Shit.
“Okay,” I drawled.
“She said you two broke it off.”
“We did.”
Alec hummed, the disapproval in his tone as thick as the blanket of clouds outside.
I didn’t need this bullshit. “Listen, I’m just about to head to dinner and—”
“What are you doing, Sutter? Are you trying to get your ass fired?”
I sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I’m on vacation.”
“Right.” Alec scoffed. “Tiff told me what you’re doing. You’re going after Gallagher. Again?”
“It’s not like I’m swamped with work.”