Page 80 of Reading Between the Lines
“Your wife hired us, Mr. Mandel,” Tallus said, trying and failing to redirect the man’s attention away from me.
“And my wife is not in the right headspace. Can’t you see that? What are you trying to prove?”
“That your son was fucking murdered and didn’t have an accident,” I snapped.
Irvin scrubbed a hand over his face. The shadows under his eyes made me think he hadn’t been sleeping well. “Look, gentlemen, what does it matter? In the end, my son is still going to die. Nothing will change that. But you, waltzing in and sullying Weston’s name, is only going to leave my wife worse off. She’s at home fretting because Weston might have had secrets she didn’t know about. That he might not have been the amazing kid she thought she’d raised. I don’t need rumors about his sexual deviance running through town. He was a fucking teenager. The girl’s father might take issue, and that’s the last thing we need. I tried to tell Delaney it was normal, but she’s at home blaming herself, convinced the entire town will ostracize us. Drop this. Now. Go home.”
“We aren’t doing that. Your son might have been killed, and you want us to ignore it?” I couldn’t suppress the low rumble in my tone.
“Yes.”
I huffed. “Too fucking bad. You didn’t hire us, so you can’t fire us, and since we have reason to believe your wife is right, it would be unethical for us to walk away.”
Irvin stepped forward; his finger raised. Tallus backed up a step, colliding with my much broader body. “I’m warning you. No more. If you keep this up, you’ll regret it.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Mandel. Let your wife know we’ll call with updates.” I snagged Tallus’s arm and steered him to the passenger side door, opening it and waving for him to get in. The entire time, I kept my gaze on Irvin.
The man fumed for another minute before spinning and storming toward his running vehicle. Then, he drove off into the overcast day.
***
By nine, we were on the road, heading to the trail by the river. Neither of us brought up the encounter with Weston’s father, but his animosity grated under my skin. I couldn’t decide if the man was an asshole or protecting his wife. Either way, he wasn’t who hired us, so he had no authority to fire us.
Unlike the previous day, the temperatures were above freezing, but with the dampness in the air, it remained cold. The thaw had turned whatever ice remained to water. The parking lot was a swamp, so I nosed the Jeep into the only dry spot available, wedged in close to the line of trees blocking our view of the water.
“Be careful,” I warned as Tallus got out. “There could still be ice under the puddles. Don’t break your neck.”
We aimed for the trail. The mud was thicker, the ground softer, and the air redolent with the scent of moldering earth. Eclipsing the quiet morning, the rushing river announced itself long before we got to the part of the path that ran alongside its edge. The turbulent water seemed more violent today, smashing against protruding rocks with brutal force, sending up high sprays of mist.
We didn’t exchange words as we walked. Tallus stuck close to my side, gazing steadily at the forest to our right. I didn’t miss the tension straining his eyes and wanted to offer reassurancebut didn’t know how. He needed to remember that I suggested he stay back, but doing so might invoke yelling or earn me the same look I’d seen in his eyes at the diner.
Tallus didn’t complain about his shoes or the temperature, and considering his ears shone red from the stinging wind and his teeth randomly chattered, I knew he suffered from a lack of appropriate winter attire.
When we came to the same spot where we’d left the trail the previous day, I halted and examined the woods, looking and listening for signs of a presence. We veered into the trees without discussion, walking lightly through silent agreement.
The river noises faded the further away we got but never vanished. Its angry churning remained a constant reminder of Weston’s fate. How the kid had survived at all was anyone’s guess. He should have died that night, and whoever had been with him—I was more and more convinced he wasn’t alone—had been counting on his demise.
We reached the decrepit wire fence with its rotting wooden posts.
“Wait.” I touched Tallus’s arm, but my command was redundant.
Tallus’s expression told me he was in no hurry to hop the fence and venture onto private property again, where a man with a gun and a hostile dog potentially awaited our return.
I narrowed my eyes and surveyed the entire area beyond the barricade, slowly and with precision, looking for any sign of life among the trees. Ears perked and tuned into nature, I waited to see if any unnatural rustling or movement sounded in the distance.
Apart from the wind high above and the distant cries of an unhappy river, all was calm.
We would not be caught unaware this time.
Tallus waited for a sign. Reluctantly, still fighting the urge to heave him over my shoulder and lock him in the Jeep, I nodded and held the fence low so he could step over before I joined him on the other side. That time, I kept Tallus within arm’s reach as we forged a path through the woods toward the cabin.
Every busy squirrel or chirping winter bird made my spine stiffen. My lungs expanded and contracted, and I worked hard to keep my breathing quiet and even. Before long, the vine-covered structure came into view.
I gestured, and Tallus nodded as we continued toward it. My gaze skipped about, scanning and ensuring we were alone.
My boyfriend had a runaway mouth most days. It could get him in trouble in this field of work. Not today. Not now. Decerning the seriousness of the situation and knowing when to keep his mouth shut was a step in the right direction.
It didn’t mean I was happy about his presence. I still wished he’d listened and stayed back at the B&B.
