Page 41 of Hell and High Water

“Classy? More like snobby.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Sarge.”

“Cut that shit out. I’ve already got Ora Clive brainstorming bullshit nicknames.”

“Hey, if I give you a nickname, it'll be a good one. I just like to get a rise out of you.”

“I don't think you could handle a rise out of me.”

“I’m always down to try…” Evan winks, sitting down across from me.

Shaking my head, I take a seat, flipping through some old files. “So. What’s this place you found?”

“I’m hoping, and I’m fairly certain, it’s a Seven property, out on Egret Ridge.”

“About time we found some clues.”

“Seriously. Nothing's supposed to be there, according to records, but I found some copies of old newspaper clippings from the 60s. Headline stated that some rich fellow was killed in his mansion up there.”

“A mansion that doesn’t appear to exist? Sounds like paydirt.”

“Not getting my hopes up, but yes.”

“Glad you called me for backup all the same.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone else having my back.” He leans back, folding his hands behind his head. “What were you looking up, by the way?”

“Old cases, jobs. Thought it might be worthwhile to look through anything I have on Damon.”

“Not a bad idea. Could spot a lead.”

“Doubtful. Guy covered his tracks pretty damn well.” I avoid bringing up the other reason, the nagging sensation that I might know the person who shot Hellena and Rachelle.

“Still, it would be interesting to know more about him. I’m sure Hell…” Evan trails off awkwardly, clearing his throat.

“Go ahead, finish the sentence. Then tell me why you haven’t come by to see her yet.” I raise my eyebrows, taunting him. I’m not exactly mad about it.

But.

“I keep meaning to.”

“It’s just easier to stay neck-deep in work and avoid the situation?”

Evan glares at me for a second before cocking his head in acknowledgement.

“Well. I won’t badger you about it. Come on.” I gather my things, stuffing them in a duffel bag along with a few odds and ends I need, plus a few of Hellena’s things that we missed in our mad dash out of town.

“My car or yours?” Evan asks, holding the door for me.

“Oh, definitely mine. Follow me out.” I point toward his car.

The drive takes fifteen minutes, another dirt track hidden in the trees leading out toward the far end of my land, another secret entrance. I check the markers, taking several turns before reaching an outcropping of mountainous rock.

We park along the small ridge, following the last bit of road to a concealed entrance. A cave I repurposed into a garage.

“I think you’ll appreciate this…” I quip, leading Evan

Dragging away the tarp, I hear Evan whistle behind me. “Nice.”

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