Page 37 of Love Me Steadfast
It’s Zach, dressed in his forest green deputy uniform.
“Come to hassle me about the clutter?” I tease, nodding at the piles set against the alley wall.
He smirks. “I’ll let it slide this once.”
I hold the door open and he walks in, peeking into the office with a whistle. “You’re not wasting any time.”
“It was way overdue,” I say.
He nods toward the empty restaurant. “Got a minute?”
“Uh, sure, let me just empty this.” I carry the bucket down the hall and head to the utility sink in the dishwashing station. After dumping out the black water, I give the bucket a rinse then toss my rag into the laundry hamper and wash my hands.
“Can I get you anything?” I call out.
“You got coffee?”
Do we serve coffee here? Even if we don’t, there’s bound to be a coffeepot somewhere, but I don’t even know where to look. The bar? Or back in the kitchen? “Uh, there’s soda, or iced tea?” I say because these things I’m sure I can find.
“Iced tea sounds great,” he replies.
I walk to the bar and push past the swinging half-door. It can’t bethat hard to figure out, right? I’ve watched bartenders in action. I grab two pint glasses from the drying rack, then locate the ice machine and scoop our glasses full. I check the fridge. There’s a pitcher of what I hope is chilled tea. I give it a sniff—bingo.
Feeling proud of myself, I carry our glasses to the two-top Zach has chosen. I settle across from him as he flips open his notebook to a blank page.
“So,” he says. “Sunday. Was there a sign someone else had been there?”
Zach giving the incident at Thunder Mountain extra attention means there’s more to it than a suicide attempt.
I flash through my memories. “There was only her truck in the driveway.” I had heard rumors about Morgan hosting occasional parties out there, but nothing that required Finn River Fire & Rescue’s intervention.
“How about once you were inside?”
“The place was…” I grimace. Zach saw it, so he’s not looking for a recap. “There were a bunch of coats on the hooks, but I didn’t exactly go looking for name tags.”
Zach nods, and jots something down.
“Did you ask that caretaker?” The reclusive old badger didn’t bother to make an appearance.
“I think he’s got a hole in the ground he drops into whenever I get near the place.” Zach sips his tea. “But I got an anonymous tip about the farrier possibly supplying more than just horseshoes. Pretty sure ole Gus is our source.”
I wince at what he’snotsaying: that Morgan’s likely back to using. “Shit. Does Charlotte know?” She’s going to blame herself.
Zach’s shrug is a reminder that there are things he can’t share. “Did you come across any paraphernalia?”
“A bong on the kitchen table.” But soon after spotting it, I was racing up the stairs. From the moment we stepped into the bedroom, our priority shifted to saving Morgan’s life.
“What was she wearing?” Zach asks.
“A sleeveless shirt. Underwear.” Three years ago it would have felt wrong to say that out loud, like I’m some perv. But I’ve seen a lot of raw vulnerability in this job, even in such a short timeframe, and it barely registers. Not sure that’s a good thing.
“Any sign of a struggle?”
“She had a pretty big bruise on her thigh.”
“I saw the room after,” he says quietly.
I blow out a breath. Morgan’s room was a mess. Dirty clothes on the floor, one of the window shades ripped in half, the lamp tipped over, empty booze bottles. “Yeah.”
