Chapter 13 #2
The rumble of the road filled the space between them, but Claire didn’t mind. Maybe she was just exhausted from the drama, but she found it surprisingly easy to relax next to Winslow. He had a calm way about him. When she wasn’t on the other side of his interrogation table, that is.
Clementine’s words wormed back into her mind.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”
Claire realized it was this.
It was seeing this detective look at her life—really look. It was the first time she’d ever seen someone sniff around her family like that. It was the first time she’d seen her dad something like nervous.
And maybe that alone had given her that first breath of hope that maybe, somehow, someway, there could be a way out of this.
Devil-you-know, my ass, she wanted to say, but it was too early for that.
Police only operated on proof, and Claire had none.
Hell, even if she did, there was no guarantee the cops here would give a damn, since they seemed to think the sun shone out her dad’s ass.
But someone like Winslow might be able to help, if she could figure out how.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“That stuff I said about Dillon maybe being a drug dealer. What if I thought it could be bigger than that?”
“Bigger how? Like a bigger operation?”
“Yeah. What kind of proof do you need to expose something like that?”
Winslow thought on it. “Well, it’s not always easy.
I worked narcotics in New York—it can require some serious undercover work.
The little guys, you can get to, but the big guys are a lot harder.
You have to hope you can follow the trail and catch them in the same room as their supply, ideally making a deal go down.
You want the case to be iron-clad, because once your cover’s blown, it’s over.
You can guarantee the evidence will be destroyed the moment they smell a cop around them. ”
He glanced at her, but she turned away, realizing she’d been staring at his profile, at the delicate line of his straight nose.
He had a nice face—handsome and all, but it was more than that.
She’d never actually known a man with dimples before, slight as they were.
While he usually kept himself clean-shaven, a shadow of dark stubble now lined his square jaw. It looked good on him.
And he had so much knowledge in that brain of his. Claire wished she could trust him, tell him everything, but if he let even one thing slip up to Chief Wells or anyone else, it could get back to her dad. She needed more first. Like he said—an iron-clad case.
“Other times, it’s less complicated,” Winslow added. “Finding a massive stash on someone’s property never hurts.”
“If I did find that kind of thing… is that something I could report?”
“Would you want to?”
“I don’t know.” She heaved out a sigh. “I just want the truth. I shouldn’t even be saying this to you, you’re a cop. For the record, no, I have not actually found anything.”
“Honestly, dealers, suppliers, all that, not my job anymore. So if Dillon is dealing or if your whole family is, it’s not really my concern unless it’s tied to the murders.”
“And is it? I mean, could it be?”
“Between us, I’m pretty sure the killer stole the heroin supply he’s using on the victims from another addict. So…” He briefly looked at her. “Probably not.”
“That’s a relief.” I guess.
Winslow went quiet. Claire listened to the road beneath the wheels.
Only a few more minutes, and they’d be back in town, but she found herself wishing this country road would elongate, stretch out the time between her being here and going back to that trailer.
The man beside her struck her curiosity in a way she’d never felt before.
“How’d you go from somewhere like New York all the way down here, anyway?” A smirk played at her lips. “Are you trying to get a little country?”
He laughed, showing off his smile lines. He had nice teeth too; sharp canines. “No, I just needed a change. Kansas City is smaller, a bit less demanding. I thought I’d have more time for my own life, but it turns out I don’t really have one of those.”
“Hm. You’re not married?” she asked, singing the last word. Winslow was so unlike any other man she’d met; when she imagined what type of girl he’d marry, it was almost like a fairy tale.
He laughed again, but this time, his cheeks reddened. If Claire didn’t know any better, she’d swear she just made him blush. “No, I am very single.”
“Very?” Claire raised her eyebrows, tugging at the knot on her rope bracelet. “Now that’s a strong word. There must be a story there.”
“I guess I haven’t found the time, that’s all.”
“Not even in Kansas City?”
“Not even in Kansas City.”
Their eyes met in the half-light of the car, and a strange sensation hit her chest—a lift and a spark, like reaching the top of a Ferris wheel.
She looked away first, but his gaze lingered on her profile a beat longer before he refocused on the road.
As unfathomable as it was, she could’ve sworn he was just admiring her the same way she was admiring him.
The thought made her dizzy; the thought that she could be pretty in his eyes, beautiful, even. She didn’t know what to do with it, so she leaned back, stared out at the night sky, and let herself pretend—for just a moment—that everything in the whole world was fine.
“It’s a beautiful night, you know,” she said. “All these stars.”
“Yeah,” Winslow said. “It is.”