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I sit, trying not to fidget with my fingers, while she continues tapping and swearing at her computer screen.
Finally, “Here we go. Found the permit. Looks like it was expedited by John. Then the next day rescinded, also by John.”
“I have John’s contact information,” I say. “But are there any other names on the permit? Any other signatories?”
She glances across her computer screen, her eyes moving rapidly. “Doesn’t look like it. John handled it himself and then found the error himself as well. No harm done. The case is closed.”
I don’t agree with her “no harm done” comment, but the case is closed and no one else is on the permit, so I’m relieved.
“Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Steel?”
I flash the smile again. “Yes, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?”
“You’re holding a cup of coffee.”
“There’s a shop around the corner.”
“You don’t like the coffee I made?”
Nice work, Don. Now to weasel out of my faux pas.
“Your coffee is delicious. I was just hoping I could do something to thank you for your cooperation this morning.”
She smiles. “The boss frowns on us leaving in the middle of the morning, but I happen to be free for lunch.”
“I’m afraid I already have lunch plans. I do appreciate your help this morning, Tasha. I’m glad to know this has all been put to bed and that other than the vandalism in town, nothing else has happened.”
“Would you like me to leave a message for John or anyone else in the office?”
“I can get hold of John if I need him. Thank you so much.”
“If you can break your lunch date…”
I smile. “Unfortunately I can’t. It’s business. Maybe the next time I’m in town.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
“Thank you for your time.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Tasha rises.
Employees are streaming in now. I thank Tasha again and leave the city building. A block down the street is the National Bank of Colorado, the bank that houses a safe-deposit box, the key for which is like burning steel in my pocket.
I find myself walking at a slow pace. Right before I reach the building, my phone buzzes. Dale.
“Hey,” I say.
“I know you said you’d call when you knew anything, but I’m getting antsy over here.”
“I just got done at the energy board. No fallout. Only Lambert knew about the fake permit. No other signatories, so we should be good.”
“And the key?”
“I’m standing outside the bank now. I feel like my feet are glued to the sidewalk. Part of me doesn’t want to go in, Dale. We’ve already opened up a can of worms, and it led to Dad being shot.”
“You and I know more than anyone that you can’t run away from your troubles,” Dale says.
I don’t reply. I don’t need to. He and I both know he’s right.
“Just go in and do it,” Dale says. “And call me as soon as you know anything.”
“I will.”
I check my phone for emails. Texts. Sales at my favorite stores.
Then I mentally smack myself upside the head.
“Fuck,” I say aloud. “You’ve never run away from anything in your freaking life.” I grasp the brass door handle and pull it open.
The Colorado National Bank is housed in an old building. I inhale the scent of money and old brick.
A young and bubbly woman accosts me. “It’s a beautiful day at the National Bank of Colorado. How may we be of service of you today?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t you mean how can you be of service to me?”
She blushes and giggles. “I’m sorry. It’s only my second day here.”
“It’s all right.” I pull the key out of my pocket. “I need to open this safe-deposit box, please.”
“Perfect. I’ll get a manager for you.”
“Thank you.”
The minutes drag. There’s a seating area, but I’m too fidgety to actually sit down. My heart beats against my chest. I’m very aware of it.
Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.
Part of me wants to run out the door, but there’s no turning back now.
No matter how much I want there to be.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Callie
We arrive outside the bank after we’ve been silent for the last several hours. Rory and I both worked out hard at the hotel gym, and now, here we are, about to go in and find out what our future holds.
“Callie,” Rory says.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve had a weird look on your face since the elevator, and it’s creeping me out.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Do I?”
“Yeah. Ever since we were talking about Pat Lamone having no money. That the only people in Snow Creek who have money are the Steels. What’s going on inside your head?”
I let out a breath. I don’t want to put the amorphous thought into words. Once I do that, it becomes real.
“Cal…”
“Okay, okay.” The door to the bank looms in front of us like a freaking bulwark. Putting off going in for a few moments feels like a gigantic reprieve. If I have to put my thought into words to do that, so be it.
