I chewed my lip. “Can they fix it?”
“No, it doesn’t work like that. But specialists can help you find ways to manage the challenges.”
Blair came bounding back into the room with a white terry headband in one hand and her phone in the other. “Uncle Liam wants to know why no one is picking up their phone.”
Grace smirked at her sister. “He means you.”
Emma rolled to her feet. “I left my phone in the kitchen. What’s going on?”
“Dunno,” Blair said. “Something about Jeremiah leaving with Grandpa.”
My body jolted at the sound of his name. Jeremiah hadn’t been at the lodge this morning, or at the stables. I had assumed he was…I don’t know, doing cowboy shitwith cows or something…but from the anxious look on Emma’s face, something else was going on.
“He’s with Dad?” Emma’s brow pinched. She exchanged a look with her sister before bolting to the kitchen.
“What?” I scrambled to my feet. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing good if he’s with our dad,” Grace said. “Dad is the sheriff.”
15
JEREMIAH
“Got a minute?”
I looked up from the photo of Lennon in a purple pantsuit, sitting on a desk with one long leg crossed over the other, to find Sheriff Sherwood leaning in my office doorway. Since that was never a good thing, I shut my laptop. “I can spare some time. What can I do for you?”
Sherwood stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Miguel López. He works here?”
“He’s in the kitchen most mornings,” I allowed.
Nodding, Sherwood took a seat across from me and crossed his ankle over his knee. He pulled a pen and spiral notepad from his breast pocket and flipped to a blank page. “When was the last time you saw him?”
I laughed and leaned back in my chair. “Now, Sheriff, you know that’s not how this relationship works. Miguel is a good kid. So how about you tell me what this is all about, and I’ll determine what information is pertinent?”
Sherwood’s jaw worked. A man like him didn’t cede control easily. But we had history, and that history was a point in my favor. He trusted me. I was still making up my mind about him.
“Miguel is in the hospital,” the sheriff said finally. “Car accident. He missed the curve where Hideaway Road follows the river—you know the one—and went right over the edge. He was pretty disoriented when they brought him in We’re trying to put together a timeline of what happened.”
“Shit. Is he going to be all right?”
“The doctors expect him to make a full recovery. But I won’t lie, the kid is in rough shape. Broken clavicle, broken ribs, broken ankle. Concussion. He dragged himself up the embankment to flag down help. He doesn’t know how long he was out there. Thinks maybe a full day and night.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, tugging at my hair. “Miguel was in Mexico for a week visiting family. He was supposed to be back Monday, but he never showed up for work.”
Two full days ago. Two days and two nights. Shit. I should have called to check on him. It wasn’t like me to let one of mine slip through the cracks like that. I had letmyself get distracted, my head muddled over Lennon, and Miguel had paid the price for that.
“Talk to Amos Tallbull. He runs the kitchen and handles the staff schedule. He might know something I don’t.” The words tasted rancid in my mouth.Ishould have known something. My employee, my responsibility. Two fucking days on the side of a hill with broken bones? Fuck.
Sherwood jotted down the note. “Cecily Shepherd works in the kitchen, too? She’s the one who found him this morning. Said it was her day off and she was worried about him because it wasn’t like him not to call?—”
“It’s not,” I confirmed. “Like I said, he’s a good kid. Clean driving record. But you know that bend. This isn’t the first accident there.”
Sherwood grunted noncommittally.
I studied him. “You don’t think this was an accident.” It wasn’t a question.
Sherwood twirled his pen between his fingers. “Miguel says there was another car that forced him off the road. He remembers bright lights coming out of nowhere and he swerved. We got a call that morning from a driver claiming she saw a car go over the edge. Sent out a patrol car but didn’t see anything. Miguel was down there the whole time.” He rubbed his index finger over his bottom lip, brows pinched. “Something isn’t adding up. You want to come take a look at the scene?”
