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“I’ll have to send it out, will take some time.”
“Yeah, do that. You heard back from Sebastian?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay. Sending it now. Thanks.”
Disconnecting the call, he forwarded the email Cedar received then dropped his phone on the passenger seat. His instinct was to pack her up and move her to his house. He wasn’t going to do that just yet. He agreed with Donnelly. If the mob was after her, they would have gotten to her when she was right under their noses. They wouldn’t wait until she was halfway across the country. He wasn’t sure about Brock, but if he left her, walked out of her life to protect her, why would he show up now and put her in danger? It didn’t play. So it was looking more like whoever was scoping out her house was doing so because of the house…or rather a place that had sat empty for so long that was now occupied. So what was happening on this land that would have someone paranoid about being discovered? He’d follow up with Sebastian, but for now, he had to get back to work. He climbed from his truck and saw Cedar with his dogs. Unlike people, animals were excellent judges of character, and his dogs liked her. He did too. He now knew what skeletons hid in her closet, but there she was pushing through it. Not where she thought she’d be but forging a new way.
He glanced at her garage, the workspace over it. Had a thought on a use for it but turned his attention back to Cedar when she fell backward on her ass. She was trying to pull a weed that was nearly as tall as her. Instead of digging it out, she was trying to wrestle it. He crossed his arms, leaned against his truck and enjoyed the show. She squatted down, giving him a great shot of her ass, and then she pulled and fell on her ass again. What was that expression? Insanity was doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome. He would have stepped in sooner, but quite frankly, he was enjoying the show too much to interrupt her. It was only when his jeans were getting a little too snug for comfort that he strolled over.
“You need some help?” he asked.
She turned, and he saw the wheels turning. She had questions about his conversation with Donnelly, but she didn’t voice them now. Instead, she blew a curl from her face and said, “It’s being stubborn. I don’t think anyone can pull it out.” He gestured to it. She stepped away. “Be my guest.”
He yanked the weed free, dropped it on her pile and started for the house.
He’d just reached the front step when she called after him, “I loosened it for you.”
He didn’t hide his smile. Yeah, he liked her, too.
Killian drove outto the trailer park just outside of town. He hadn’t charged Monica. She was impulsive and didn’t think, but she didn’t need the trouble that would come from a weapons charge. She’d been released; he’d made it very clear to her that, that was her one and only get-out-of-jail free card. She’d had a few days at home, and now, he was following up. She needed to know that he may not have pursued it, but he was still watching.
Her place was a beat-up doublewide at the back of the community. Her neighbors had gardens and grass, but not Monica. Her place was a shithole. Why she didn’t put effort into it or take pride in her home, he didn’t understand. Suspected even if she lived in a mansion, she still wouldn’t appreciate what she had. Some people were always looking for more.
He pulled up and saw the motorcycle. He radioed the station. “I’m at Monica’s. Run this plate,” he said to Johnny and read off the license plate number. If something went down, Johnny would know where to focus the search. Killian climbed from his truck and looked around her yard, before he walked up to the front door. The smell coming from the place was disgusting, and he thought it looked bad on the outside.
He knocked, took in what he could see of the inside while he waited for her to answer. And when she did, she was sporting a shiner and a fat lip. It didn’t take a detective to know whoever had given her that gun was the same person who owned that hog, and he wasn’t happy she lost it.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Like you care. You here to do a house search?”
“Just checking in on you.” He gestured to her face. “You want to press charges.”
“She walked into a wall,” a man said from behind her. He knew the type, more muscles than brains. “Go get me a beer,” he told Monica, before he stepped in front of the screen, making it clear Killian wasn’t going to be invited in. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”
“Just following up.”
“Really? Taking an interest in Monica. Why? When you’ve got that sweet piece.” He leaned closer and added, “Bet she tastes sweeter than she looks.”
It was tempting to the punch the fucker right through the screen, but not while wearing his badge. He had nothing on the man, but he’d be looking into him. No point in alerting the dick.
“You change your mind, Monica,” Killian said, walking back to his truck.
“She won’t.”
He climbed into his truck, but he didn’t drive off. Sat there for a few minutes to make the fucker more nervous than he already had been. But why, because he’d hit Monica? Killian didn’t think so. He didn’t recognize him, so he was new to town and played on Monica’s need for attention to shack up with her. How long had he been there? And what was he up to that made a surprise visit from the local authority worrisome? He didn’t know, but he’d find out.
Chapter Seventeen
Cedar
My lawyer called;he’d spoken to Killian’s lawyer. Settlement on the tavern was scheduled in two months. I had been out looking for planter boxes because I wanted to hang some from the railing of the new porch when it was done, but I stumbled upon a craft store. Over the years, I’d continued to doodle designs; I just never did anything with them, but with all of my free time, I was going to make myself a few pieces. I’d designed a halter-top sundress with a layered skirt. Originally, the plan was to do the whole dress in white, but instead, I found coordinating floral prints, each layer would be different, the halter-top a solid peony pink.
I dug out Mom’s sewing machine and worked in the living room. Graham’s crew was hard at work. Killian had some business at the station, something to do with that woman Monica. It’d been a week since he told me about the person who’d been watching my house. I didn’t tell anyone, but I bought some of those cameras and hid them in the trees. Another few that looked out on Sassafras Road, a few more on the other side of my property. At first, I thought maybe it was Brock, but he had walked out of my life. He wasn’t going to just reappear in it, not unless there was trouble. From what Detective Donnelly had told me, there was trouble, but not any that would land on me. Or rather, that Brock would pull me into by contacting me.
The property had sat for a long time. It was likely people had been conducting business on it and now were annoyed to have their routine disturbed. Whoever it was, I’d get them on film. I was reminded of my youth and Mrs. Astor and how Brock and I, for a time, thought we were detectives. Sometimes, I let myself think about what my life would have been like if I hadn’t lost my parents, if I hadn’t lost Brock. Would he and I be married, have children? Would I have had my own label and would he have found wrecks to salvage? We would have been happy. I knew that. From the beginning, we just fit. Wherever we ended up, we would have been happy. But that life was gone. He was gone.
