Page 4 of Nick
“Oh, sorry.” She shook her head, a slightly guilty expression on her face, quickly erased by a grimace. “I’m Gracie Medeiros. I own the place.”
“Nice to meet you, Gracie. Though I swear I’ve seen you before.”
She nodded. “At the hospital, right after Antonio Boudreau was shot. I saw you in the waiting room when I came to check on Ms. Patti and Douglas, though we weren’t really introduced. That day was kind of traumatic for everybody involved.”
“Right. The hospital.”
“You back to visit the family again?” He watched her efficiently write his order on a large paper cup with her store’s logo, and hand it to one of the baristas behind the counter.
“I’m finishing up some business with Rafe.” Drawing in a deep breath, he took a step back to allow the next customer, a middle-aged matron wearing a harried look and clutching a young toddler by her side, to place her order for one of those fancy cappuccino-type drinks and a hot cocoa. He watched Gracie smile at the little blond-haired boy with huge blue eyes and hand him a cookie wrapped in a napkin. Seeing the excited way the kid took the treat, Nick felt a yearning in his chest, and wondered if he’d ever felt that kind of eagerness for something as simple as a frosted sugar cookie.
“I bet Ms. Patti would love to see you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you since the last time you were here, when she and Douglas renewed their vows. You can’t possibly know how much your being there, walking her down the aisle, meant to them both.”
Hmm, maybe this Gracie person was closer to the Boudreaus than he thought. Another reason not to get too close to the pretty girl. The last thing he needed was another complication to add to his Shiloh Springs debacle.
“Ms. Patti is one of a kind. It was my honor to be there.” Glancing up when his name was called, and spotted Chance and Rafe Boudreau standing in the doorway. Guess his five minutes of peace was about to end, and before he’d even had a chance to drink his coffee.
“Thought we’d grab some coffee before heading to the station. Looks like you had the same idea.” Rafe nodded to Gracie, and Nick noted the familiarity between the two. Rafe’s warm, easygoing smile made it clear they were friends, and he noted an identical expression on Chance’s face.
“My regular, please, Gracie, extra large. I have the feeling it’s going to be a long day.” Chance pulled out his billfold and handed her two twenties. “I’ll cover whatever Nick’s having and Rafe’s, too. And keep the change.”
Rafe quickly gave his order, grabbing a blueberry muffin from a large wicker basket atop the counter. Nick studied Chance as he started to reach for one, then pulled his hand back, a wistful expression on his face. The other man must have noticed, because he shrugged.
“Dude’s on a diet,” Rafe answered Nick’s unanswered question, a huge grin splitting his lips. “He’s trying to get in shape for his wedding, which means no sweets or goodies for the next couple of months. Sucks to be him.” Rafe took a huge bite of his muffin, taunting his brother.
“I hate you so much.”
“Aw, don’t be a hater, bro, just because my pretty redhead doesn’t mind giving me all the sugar I want.” Rafe took a huge bite out of the blueberry muffin, then waved it in Chance’s face. Chance rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Nick.
“Let’s head across the street and get comfortable. I’m interested in hearing what you’ve discovered about Antonio’s shooter.” Grabbing his cup of coffee that Gracie had just placed on the counter, he spun and headed for the door.
Nick picked up his cup and nodded toward Gracie. “Nice to meet you, Gracie. Appreciate the coffee.” He watched the sweep of pink paint her cheeks, and she gave a quick bob of her head before heading down to the other end of the counter.
“I’m interested in what you’ve found out too. We’ve had crickets on our end.”
“Wish I could say I’ve got a lot to tell you, but I’d be lying,” Nick answered as they crossed the street, pausing long enough to let a lone car drive down the main drag in front of the sheriff’s station. The place hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been through its doors. That was the thing about small towns though, not a whole lot did. At least this time he was walking in under his own steam, minus the handcuffs and disgruntled townsfolk thinking he was a hired hitman or a terrorist.
Proceeding down the hall, Nick ended up in the conference room, one of the biggest rooms the small sheriff’s station sported and grabbed the chair across from Chance. He couldn’t help but notice the open manila folder in front of Shiloh Springs’ district attorney. Chance had hung his suit jacket across the back of his chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves, making himself comfortable. Nick took that to mean this meeting was informal, because he doubted the other man would have done that if this were a formal investigative meetup.
“How’s Antonio doing?” Nick shifted in his chair and then took a sip of his coffee, astonished at how good it tasted. Surprising for a small town to have such a sophisticated blend, and he knew it wasn’t just over-the-grocery-store-counter stuff. This was high-end, expensive stuff. He knew, because he’d become a bit of a connoisseur of his favorite caffeinated beverage. He’d have to frequent Gracie’s place again if he stuck around Shiloh Springs. Thinking about the pretty brunette, he felt his lips curve up.
“He’s doing good. Doc says another week and he can go back to work full time. For the past week he’s been allowed light duty stuff only.” Chance grabbed his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. “Believe me, Antonio wasn’t made to sit behind a desk. It’s driving him nuts.”
“And he’s driving us crazy wanting to find out who shot him. I think our brother would like a little payback.” Rafe grabbed the chair at the head of the long conference table, slinging his large form onto it with a grace that belied his size. While he wasn’t a muscle-bound jock, Rafe hadn’t let himself go like a lot of law enforcement did after being on the job for a while. Nick had the feeling Rafe could keep up with the rest of them without a problem, getting sugar from his wife notwithstanding.
“I wish I had a suspect I could tell you to go after. It would make my life easier if I could say, ‘hey, it’s this guy, let’s go get him.’” Nick ran a hand through his hair, feeling the longer strands which had started to curl at the ends. When undercover, he’d kept it extremely short, almost a high and tight, as the military would call it. After finishing the job of ousting Brashear, watching him being led away to a prison cell, he’d allowed it to grow out, keeping it trimmed until the natural color had grown out. Looking in the mirror felt strange, not seeing the almost black hair he’d maintained for his undercover assignment, he’d decided to let it go. Still, it took a bit of getting used to. Sometimes catching sight of his reflection when passing a window or mirror startled him.
“No leads at all?”
He shook his head. “I’m not saying that exactly. Calvin and I have been scouring my past records, looking at the people I’ve had a hand in putting behind bars. Checking to see who is still incarcerated, anybody who might have been paroled, gotten early release. Unfortunately, it’s more than I’d like. The Australian justice system, while effective, is like America. Sometimes things fall through the cracks, get manipulated. And unfortunately, money talks. It’s the universal language of the criminal elite.”
“True enough.” Chance flipped a couple of pages in the folder in front of him. “We’ve been working from our end, looking at cases Antonio worked.” The FBI has been cooperative, especially since Antonio’s direct boss, Derrick Williamson, had moved to Shiloh Springs. Of course, Antonio had worked a lot of cases in the last few years, including the one that had made national news, Big Jim Berkley, a known homegrown terrorist—who also happened to be his fiancée’s uncle.
“Anything look promising?” Nick was still convinced the bullet Antonio took had been meant for him. Call it a gut feeling, but it didn’t track in his head that on the day he showed up in Shiloh Springs a random shooter was gunning for Antonio on his family’s ranch. No, it had been somebody trackinghim,Nick was sure of it.
“So far? No. Antonio’s been going through files, looking for any loose ends, anybody who might have a grudge, anybody who hated him enough to take a sniper position on our land, and try to kill him.”
Nick couldn’t help hearing the emphasis Chance put onour landand watched Rafe nod at his brother’s words. Guess they were royally pissed that somebody had come onto their land and hurt one of their own. He felt a tightness in his chest at the thought he might have been one of their own—once upon a time.
