Page 75 of Stockman's Showdown

‘Poor Penelope. No one to grieve for her for the right reasons. It’s not right, you know.’ Charlie held his hat over his heart. ‘Do you reckon we can bury her here with Harry?’ he asked Bree.

Porter shook his head. ‘Sorry, Charlie, Penelope’s family has already signed off on it, according to the morgue.’

‘Which is where we’re heading next. Thanks for your help, Porter. Let’s go, Pop.’ Bree scooped up her large leather bag from the floor, then hooked her arm through her grandfather’s. ‘Hi, Marcus. Bye, Marcus.’

Ryder recognised that look. Bree was on a mission, and nothing was going to stop her.

‘Ryder?’ Marcus mumbled quietly, grabbing Ryder’s arm. ‘I know you promised to keep me informed, and I trust you will. But what about her?’ He nodded at the redhead, escorting Charlie to the front doors. ‘Word is Leo has a thing for Bree. And she’s never been shy to go toe-to-toe with him.’

Ryder’s jaw clenched. The ice in his veins thickened, making every muscle in his body taut. For anyone watching, Ryder would only seem calm. Icy calm, with his voice low and controlled. ‘Leo won’t get near her.’ Because he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

Twenty-eight

Hooking her arm through her grandfather’s, Bree escorted Charlie, with Ryder following, down the deserted corridor, in the far forgotten corner of the small bush hospital, that ended at a glass door. There, Bree pressed the buzzer.

‘Hi, Romie.’ She waved at the middle-aged man in a lab coat, working inside the sterile room filled with steel benches. It was the morgue that doubled-up as the funeral home in this small town.

‘Hey, Bree.’ Romie opened the door. ‘Are you here about Harry?’

‘We are.’

‘Come on through.’

‘Do I have to?’ Charlie hesitated at the doorway.

‘We won’t be long, Pop.’

‘Are you comin’ in too, son?’ Charlie squeezed his hat, looking to Ryder to help him escape.

‘I’ll be right beside you.’ Ryder was a cool customer who looked like he’d seen a few dead bodies in his time.

Even though she was dying to know about his meeting with Marcus, Bree was here for Charlie. Family always came first.

Romie rustled through the paperwork on his desk and pulled out a file. Flicking it open, he grabbed a pen. ‘So, what are you planning for Harry? Cremation?’

‘We’re gonna bury him next to our father, with the rest of the Splint family up at the local cemetery.’ Charlie rolled his shoulders, clearing his throat. ‘Take note, kid. I want the same. Don’t forget, my plot is between my wife and daughter. Your…’

‘I know, Pop.’ Even if she’d known about his funeral plans for years, it still didn’t stop Bree’s stomach from spiralling at the horror of what her grandfather was saying. Sure, Charlie was an old man, with a heart condition, but she liked living under the fantasy that her grandfather was going to outlive her.

Bree needed to change this conversation. ‘Romie, what’s happening with Penelope Price?’

Romie flicked open another folder, dragging his finger down the page. ‘Says here she’s getting shipped out tomorrow. Why?’

‘It’s flamin’ wrong what they’re doing.’

Bree put her hand on Charlie’s shoulder to silence him as she opened her bag and pulled out a bottle of her special homemade gin and put it on the table.

‘Is that the cucumber-rose flavoured gin? My wife likes that one.’

‘So you said.’ And it was.

‘How big is your handbag?’ Ryder’s eyebrows knitted together as he gawked at her large leather bag. ‘No wonder Dex calls it the witchy sack.’

‘Do you mind? Pop and I are negotiating here.’

‘I wish you’d tell me what we’re negotiating about, kid,’ mumbled Charlie.

‘Romie, I want you to swap wedding fingers on the skeletons.’

---