Page 44 of Longest Ride

“Our coffee is gonna be cold.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

We came back and Ted was gone – taking Paula back home. Dad had released her, and I figured we were going with the surveillance plan.

Molly ran the tag on the pickup that was slowing down this morning when we picked Paula up in Valier and it belonged to Stacey Croft.

“Stacey Croft, boys. She’s thirty years old and lives in Cut Bank. I’ve seen her before.” Molly stared for a minute and said, “I’m pretty sure she works at the Inn in Cut Bank.”

“Okay. That’s interesting,” I said. “Can you run this one next?”

“What does this have to do with the case?”

“Don’t know. This is the truck that picked up our drug guys at the courthouse. It will have something to do with Archie Twig if the truck owner came to pick up Archie’s little army.”

“Right,” said Molly. “Let’s see who it belongs to.” Molly tapped the keyboard on her computer. “Jeff Goodman. Address in Warner, Alberta.”

“Yep. Probably lives in that first trailer park we went to in Warner looking for Tammy. We know right where that is. Thanks, Molly.”

“No problem, dear.”

Wild Stallion Ranch.

We did our chores without seeing any bears sneaking around the barn, but it was getting dark earlier every day, and with so much early snow, the bears would be out there searching for food.

At dinner Travis talked about letting Paula go and the surveillance we would put on her house in shifts.

“Didn’t she break down at all?” asked Billy.

“Nope. She’s solid on her story, but I don’t believe her for a minute. Got to hand it to her, she didn’t waver or shed a tear under pressure. She’s good. Real good. Been coached by somebody or practiced beforehand, with her partner in crime.”

“Maybe she practiced with her friend Stacey Croft,” said Virge. “When we were grabbing her this morning, Stacey wascoming to visit Paula. We got the tag from her truck.”

Travis smiled. “Nice one, boys. We’ll look into

Stacey Croft tomorrow and find out her dark secrets.”

Billy chuckled.

“Molly said she thought she knew her from the Inn in Cut Bank.”

“Even better,” said Travis. “I’ll take a drive over there tomorrow and call on her. She might know all about the triple murder. Girls like to talk.”

Dry Run Roadhouse. Coyote Creek.

Friday and Saturday nights Jack had a country band playing at the roadhouse and he packed in a lot of customers from all over the county and beyond.

We were lucky to get a booth, and we got one not too far from the dance floor. Virge and I watched to see if there were any cute girls that weren’t there with boyfriends. If they were at a table sitting with other girls, we’d go and ask them to dance.

A couple of illegal beers and we had ourselves a time. After a slow song ended, I took a pretty girl named Krissy back to her table. I sat down a little out of breath and took a sip of my beer. A woman I never saw before—long blonde hair, blue eyes and a couple of tats—sauntered over and asked Travis to dance.

Interesting.

Virge came back and plopped down. “Where’s Dad?”

“Dancing with that blonde. She came and asked him to dance.”

“Wowzer. Look at that. She’s a looker.”

---