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“Thanks for letting me look at this again,” I tell Langley.
He sits at his desk harumphing and grumping over paperwork, muttering like the two men—one sulking, the other stoic—in the drunk tank have just ruined his whole month.
“Say, would you mind if I borrowed this for a bit? I know you want to get home soon, and I just need it for another day or two. I can make copies at the library and I’ll bring it straight back.”
He lifts his head, peering, squinting at me.
“What’s so important in that file all of a sudden, Miss Randall?” he asks.
“Well, there’s been some legal stuff with the house. Turns out, it’s still in Mom and Dad’s joint names all these years,” I lie so smoothly it almost disturbs me. “Something about the insurance and accidental death versus suicide, yada yada yada. I’m trying to give them proof so they won’t demand the life insurance payments back and possibly screw up some of the title stuff on the place.”
“Well, that’s real crappy of them, dredging that mess up after all these years.” He frowns. “I can let you have ’em for forty-eight hours, but you bring those files right back to me. Every page. I could get in trouble, you know.”
“I won’t let that happen, Sheriff. Cross my heart. And your coffee’s on me for a week.” I wink at him, then feign a nonchalant glance toward the cells. “So what were those two even fighting over, if they weren’t drunk?”
“Who the hell knows.” He lets out an exasperated gurgle. “Something about an old mine or some gold? Meh. By then they were snarling and spitting like rabid bears and I couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. Had to nearly get my squad car between them to shut it down.”
I’m trying to listen, to keep up my pleasantly neutral expression, but everything after the word gold turns into blank white noise.
My chest constricts and my knees lock.
I smile until it hurts because it’s all I can do not to dart a frightened look at that redheaded man.
He must be working with Paye.
And she’s onto the gold.
They were watching us the whole time.
That’s why she just had to fire off another text from hell.
Jesus.
My throat sticks, dry like I’m swallowing a mouthful of sand. My smile feels like a clown’s painted-on grimace, but I try to look concerned as I glance at Alaska, raising my voice to be heard.
“Hey...does Eli know where you are? Who’s looking after him tonight?”
“Don’t know,” Alaska says gravely. “He’s probably out looking for me with the Fords.”
I know damned well Alaska wouldn’t go skipping out on his boy, not even if he was angry enough to pick a fist fight with this guy. Not unless there was a damn good reason.
Eli’s probably sitting at Ms. Wilma’s kitchen table right now, stuffing his face with cookies while showing her all his photos of Charming Inn.
But at least Alaska’s playing along.
“Who’s Eli?” The sheriff plays right into it, tilting his head like a curious cocker spaniel.
“My son,” Alaska growls gruffly.
“His young son,” I point out. “Whom he’s liable for as a single parent, and since he’s in jail...that kinda means the liability passes to you, doesn’t it, Sheriff?” I look at Langley with wide-eyed innocence, like I’m so very curious about how the law works. “Isn’t that basically the way things go with no other next of kin in town? The kid becomes a temporary ward of the state? Especially since Eli’s only twelve.”
“Well, I...uh...” Langley tugs at his overbuttoned collar. “I’d have to call up to Helena to double-check the specifics of Montana state law. We, um, we don’t really have a social services division way out here, and—”
“I could take care of Eli!” I volunteer cheerfully. “But I think you have to give me permission for that, Sheriff Langley. As a representative of the state or whatever, right? Since you have his sole caretaker in custody and all.” I still feel like crying, like screaming, like choking, but somehow I’m smiling my sweetest customer service smile, leaning in over Langley’s desk. “Tell you what. Let me take care of the kiddo, and coffee’s not only on the house for a year, but it’s catered. I’ll have a fresh full pot dropped off here every morning. One of the big pots.” With a worried pout, I tap my finger against my lower lip. “I just hope nothing happens to Eli before you let Alaska out. You know I’ve just got awful luck sometimes...”
Langley looks between me and Alaska helplessly, then groans, scrubbing his fingers through his thin thatch of hair.
“...so the rumors about y’all are true, huh? He’s your man. Heard it from a guy on Blake’s crew the other day and thought he was full of it.” Langley snorts.
