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“What about properties your company’s working on? Would he be able to gain access to any of the work sites and hole up for a few days?”
Steven rubbed his temples. “I don’t think so. I run a pretty tight ship. But I’ll double check. I’ll contact all my supervisors right away. Hell, I’ll go out to the work sites myself to make sure he’s not there. I hate to see him ruin his life by doing something so stupid, but maybe hitting rock bottom is the best thing for him.”
Owen stood, hooked the car seat carrier on his forearm, and fished a business card from the back pocket of his jeans. “I appreciate the assistance. If you find him, or anything else comes to mind, please let me know.”
Steven took the card and turned it between his fingers.
Marie rose to her feet. She wasn’t a cop, but her gut told her this man wasn’t involved in any way with Bill or the crimes he’d committed. She offered him a tight smile and followed Owen to the door. A thought entered her mind, and she turned back to the sad older man. “You said Eddy and his dad liked to hunt. Did they hunt with a bow?”
Steven arched his brows and tilted his head to the side. “Sometimes. Depends on the season I suppose.”
Owen took a step forward. “Did they use a primitive bow? Make their own arrows?”
Steven chuckled. “No way. My brother-in-law was a wonderful person, but he couldn’t build a birdhouse if you cut the wood for him and all he had to do was hammer in a nail.”
Disappointment weighed her down. Not only had Steven Piper provided no answers for them, but he left them with one more question—if Eddy Jones wasn’t the one shooting on Lewis’ land with homemade arrows, then who was?
16
Owen stepped outside and tilted his chin toward the sun peeking through a sea of clouds. If the forecast was right, the warm rays wouldn’t stick around for long, but he wanted to enjoy them while he could. “How about a walk? We can head downtown and grab some lunch.”
“She might get heavy,” Marie said, nodding toward Nora nestled in her carrier. “Do you want me to get her out?”
“Nah, I got her.”
Marie hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder then crossed her arms over her middle as she walked beside him. “I never know what to do with my hands when I’m not holding her. It’s a weird feeling.”
A ridiculous part of his brain wanted to grab one of her hands and lace their fingers together, but he didn’t dare. “I can give her back if you want.”
She smiled. “I’ll let you lug her around. I swear, the bigger she gets the harder it is. I need to add some muscle if I’m going to keep carrying her everywhere.”
“You’re perfect the way you are.” He cringed at his words, but the way her grin widened before she dropped her gaze to the sidewalk told him she enjoyed the compliment. “How are you holding up? You’ve been through a lot the last couple days,” he said, needing to change the subject.
She shrugged. “I’m okay. Not knowing where Bill might be, waiting for him to pounce when the moment strikes, is nerve wracking. But I’m not sure if it’s worse than the months I’ve spent locked away with him. Knowing where he was didn’t make life any easier. Didn’t help keep him from hurting me.”
He fisted his free hand at his side. Marie was such a strong, amazing woman. How anyone could hurt her was beyond him, but the fact it was a man who not only left bruises on her but used her love for her family to chain her to him caused every tendon in his body to tense—hoping for a moment to exact a certain kind of revenge no lawman should dream about.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, but soon it will all be behind you. You and Nora can live your lives without always looking over your shoulder.”
“It seems impossible that could be our future, but I hope you’re right.”
A few moments of silence passed between them. They turned onto Main Street, along the river. The past few days of rain kept most people inside, and even the shops had taken in their usual sidewalk displays, meant to lure customers indoors. The colorful umbrellas, often open to shade diners and those simply enjoying a view of the river, were all folded. The sound of rushing water reached Owen’s ears even yards away from the railing that ran the length of the riverwalk.
“What about you?” Marie asked. “You’ve had a tough time. First with Pappy being shot then Tommy. That must weigh on you.”
He blew out a long breath, trying to remember the last time someone had cared enough to ask after him. “Honestly, I haven’t let myself stop and think about it. Pappy is tough as nails and too stubborn to let some punk like Bill keep him down. And Tommy… Well, I shouldn’t have let him go up in that treehouse alone. But I don’t have the luxury of wallowing in my guilt. Not when I have a killer to find.”
“Admitting your feelings and checking in with yourself aren’t luxuries,” she said, bumping her shoulder against his. “They’re necessary to keep moving forward. To not stumble on things left unsaid, things left undone.”
Stopping, he faced her and tilted his head to the side. “I’ve never thought about it like that. I’ve always been of the mind to shove things down as far as possible, pretending everything’s fine and just moving forward. No matter what.”
“One day, you’re going to explode. Either that or turn into a hermit like your grandfather. A sweet old man who’s a little paranoid and afraid to let people in.”
He winced. “Pappy’s a good man, but you’re right. He’s never talked about the death of my mother, at least not in a healthy way. He’s always been caught up in finding who drove the car that hit her. He’s never stopped and dealt with his grief, or acknowledged his family needed him to be there for support.”
She rested a hand on his forearm and frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize Lewis. I think he’s a wonderful man. But I do feel sorry for him. I hate that he’s hidden and alone. It didn’t take long for me to understand he pushes away people he loves. Who knows. Maybe I’d do the same thing if I lost my daughter.”
The crack in her voice squeezed his chest. “As long as I’m around, I’ll make sure you’ll never have to worry about that.”
