Page 38 of Love Me Steadfast
“Do you remember seeing her cell phone?”
I close my eyes for an instant, willing my brain to unlock those images, but it’s a blur. “I can’t be sure.” That he’s asking means he didn’t find it at the scene. According to dispatch, Morgan had been on the phone with the crisis line not ten minutes before we showed up. If she had hung up to harm herself, it’s weird that the phone wouldn’t be nearby. Unless the house has a landline? Though I don’t remember seeing one of those either.
Zach is busy scribbling, so I take a long drink of my iced tea, the cold tannins biting my teeth.
“Think she’s going to be okay?” I ask.
His eyes soften. “I don’t know.” He flips his notebook shut. “How’s Charlie handling everything?”
I run my thumb down my glass, clearing a stripe of condensation. I wish I could tell him that Charlotte’s confided in me, but she barely looks in my direction. At least this morning she let me send her off with coffee and donuts. “She wasn’t thrilled about me buying this place.”
“That’s hardly fair. You’re the hero in that story.”
I snort a laugh. “She’s not thinking I’m any kind of hero right now.”
“She’ll come around.”
Where is his optimism coming from?
“Heads up,” he says with a serious nod. “Special Agent Luke Ballard is gonna reach out.”
“Ballard, why?” Luke Ballard is a criminal profiler for the FBI and one of Hutch’s best friends from the military. A few years ago, Ballard’s assistance helped bring down a serial killer operating in several states, including Idaho.
“Something he’s working, but I’ll let him give you the details.” Zach stands and drains his iced tea. I stand and we step into an automatic hug. It’s genuine and it grounds me just like it always does.
As we carry our empty glasses to the bar, I rack my brain for what this could mean. Every now and then, EMS gets called on by law enforcement in an investigation. Sometimes to testify in court. Other times to clarify something in our documentation.
“How’s Everett’s sheriff campaign going?” I ask him as we head for the back hallway. Sheriff Olson’s retirement has been the talk of the town all summer.
Zach’s lips tighten in a grimace. “Everett’s got the most experience and he’s endorsed by just about everyone who counts, but his opponent has deep pockets.”
“Where’s he getting his money?” The guy is a former marine and is currently a correctional officer sergeant at Rock Creek.
“Great question. It’s certainly not coming from his paycheck.”
“There’s a rumor he’s backed by that cult.”
I study my brother’s face for some kind of tell, but he’s too good.
“We still on for dinner Sunday?” he asks, not taking my bait.
“Planning on it.”
“Bring Charlie and Theo too,” he adds, arching his eyebrow.
I try to drink in that confidence that this wild plan I’ve cooked up will work. “I’ll see what I can do.”
He slips into the shadow of the alley. I watch him go for a moment longer before turning back to my project.
The work of prepping then rolling the clean, ivory paint up the walls gives my mind the space to process what I learned from Zach.
He’s investigating what happened at Thunder Mountain. But is it because of the farrier, or something else?
And that troublesome news about the race for sheriff. There’s no one more qualified or trustworthy to run the Finn River Sheriff’s Department than Everett Rumsey. Up north, the Clearwater County’s sheriff was basically hand-picked by the members of a quasi-religious cult that’s growing out of control. Rowdy’s been talking about it because they hunt illegally and sometimes try to squat on public lands and he’s been forced to call in reinforcements to evict them.
That’s why Everett has to win. Someone has to stop that cult from infiltrating our community.
The kitchen crew filters in and their rock music blends with steady chopping and conversation as they preps for lunch. It reminds me to call the accountant so I can get a better understanding of our food costs and profit margins. I also need to run an ad for a night hostess, preferably someone who doesn’t vanish during their shift.
