Page 125 of Wild Sanctuary

“Dave’s seventy-six and deaf in one ear.” He pulls out his phone. “If Marcus is still in the valley, I’ll see if he can swing back this way till I’m home. Can’t be too careful.”

* * *

A short twelve minutes after Wyatt leaves, Marcus’s Suburban rolls up the driveway for the second time today.

He climbs out and takes the porch steps with his usual unhurried ease. “Wyatt called, sweetheart. Said he was picking up June and didn’t want you out here on your own.”

“I’ve got a seventy-six-year-old bodyguard and a locked screen door.” I smile wryly. “I think I’ll survive.”

“Stubborn as his daddy.” Marcus shakes his head with fond exasperation as we reach the kitchen. “Mason wasn’t home anyway, so I’m all yours. You want a fresh pot on?”

“I’ll do it.”

“You go on and sit down. I know where everything is.”

I sit down at the table while he fills the pot and sets it going.

“Saw Dave’s truck by the equipment barn.” Marcus leans against the counter while the coffee maker starts to gurgle. “That old F-250 still giving him trouble?”

“He’s been out there all morning. I don’t think he’s come up for air.”

Marcus chuckles. “Dave and that truck have been arguing for longer than most marriages last.” He pulls two mugs from the cupboard. “He out there by himself?”

“As far as I know. Why?”

“No reason. Just don’t want the old fool up on a jack stand alone at his age.”

He pours the coffee, slides mine across black, and adds one sugar to his own. “Black, no sugar. Just like your daddy.” He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Man always said cream was for people who didn’t really like coffee.”

My hand tightens around the mug. “You remember that?”

“Sweetheart, your father said that to me about a thousand times.” He chuckles fondly before reaching up and tapping his temple with his index finger. “Some things just stick.”

Then he settles into the chair opposite, both hands around his mug. “So… What’re you workin’ on? Anything I can help with?”

“Just going through some notes. Background stuff for the article.”

“You need financial records or anything from the ranch books, you just go ahead and ask. Wyatt’s already given me the green light to share whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Marcus. I might just take you up on that.”

“So how’s the article coming along?” Marcus settles into his chair. “The Hartleys behaving themselves for you?”

“Well, Colt gave me three hours.” I take a sip of coffee. “Sadly, most of it was completely unusable.”

Marcus laughs so hard he has to set his mug down. “That boy could talk paint clean off a barn, and never once get to the point.” He shakes his head before a crease appears between his brows. “Between you and me, most of that charm is armor. But don’t tell him I said that.”

He drains his coffee. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Of course. I’m sure you know where it is.”

He disappears down the hall, and I hear the bathroom door close right as my phone rings. The number isn’t saved, but I recognize the area code as being local. Hope surges in my chest as I swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Miss Monroe?” The voice is high and unsteady. “It’s Alma Cutter. Can you talk?”

“Alma, I’m so glad you called.” I glance toward the hallway, noting the bathroom door is still closed. “Yes, absolutely. I can talk.”