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The solid warmth of him was the answer. The answer to all my questions and problems. If I had this, I’d be okay.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Kind of,” I said, my desire to be honest at war with staying strong.
“You can’t stay here anymore,” he said, pulling away and giving me a serious look. “I want you to go stay with my parents.”
“She’ll stay with me,” Bess said.
“I will?” I gaped at Bess, surprised.
“Harry’s still a crack shot,” Bess assured us. “You don’t need to send an officer to the house. Anyone tries to come into our home, Harry will blow a hole through their chest.”
Grady nodded, his arm still around me. “I’d trust Harry in any situation. I think that’s a great idea.”
A great idea? Bess and I drove each other crazy. I loved her but wasn’t sure we’d both survive being together around the clock for who knew how long.
“I could go to The Sleepy Moose,” I offered.
“You’re staying with me,” Bess said. “That’s final.”
“I think you should,” Grady said. “For now. I’ll have someone pull all the surveillance videos we can get of this area and try to get someone identified. We’re close on Bardot. I just need a couple more days and then you can stay with me.”
They were close on Bardot. That was music to my ears. I had a feeling Bardot’s arrest was the only chance I had of getting back the Grady I’d fallen for. He felt like he had failed eleven years ago and this was his shot at redemption.
“Okay, I’ll stay with Bess,” I said.
Grady nodded. “I’ll have Denton stay with you until you guys get to her house, and then he’ll come follow you back here tomorrow. And I’ll be sending someone to get photos of the truck. We’ll tow it to our impound lot.”
I nodded.
“Be careful,” he cautioned. “Don’t assume this is just Matt Meecham messing with you. If you see anything suspicious, call me, okay?”
“I will.”
I hoped for a kiss. Just one quick kiss to remind me that there was more to us than stress and worry. Grady just squeezed my shoulder and turned for the door, though.
Fear flared in my chest. I had a bad feeling that unless Bardot was arrested, there wouldn’t be an us anymore after all this. It would be the end of something wonderful that had barely gotten started.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Grady
“Go home and get some sleep,” Coulter said. “You’ll just be answering your phone here or there, so what’s the difference?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Federal agents were trailing Bardot now, but they were hoping to catch him committing more criminal activities before arresting him to make a more solid case. It was maddening, knowing they could arrest him, but they wouldn’t. I was levelheaded and able to shift my focus to other things when I needed to, in all cases but this one. Not the lowlife dirtbag who had shot Megan in the chest and left her for dead, then shot my dad in the back and cost him the use of his legs.
“Maybe you need to go see your doctor about that,” Coulter suggested.
I scowled at him. “What I need is for Bardot to be taken into custody. That’s what I need. None of this waiting bullshit.”
I rubbed my forehead and grabbed my phone to check the text that had just come in.
Officer Denton: Avon has an interview with Dale Meecham’s wife this afternoon. Thought you should know.
“Why is that woman trying to kill me?” I snapped at no one in particular. “Danger is like her catnip.”
“What’s she doing now?” Coulter asked.
I told him about the interview. He arched his brows, looking impressed.
“She’s got balls, man. I can’t wait to read what Margie Meecham has to say about all this.”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s all you have to say? She’s walking into the lion’s den and that’s your response?”
“Denton will be with her. Matt Meecham’s a fucking idiot.”
“It could be someone else who’s after her, though. This interview could be a trap.”
I texted Denton back.
Grady: What time are you guys leaving for the interview?
Officer Denton: 2:45
Grady: I’ll be there to go with you.
“You’re going with them, aren’t you?” Coulter asked, grinning.
“If you don’t wipe that smile off your face, I’ll remove it for you.”
“Chief.” My friend sat down in a chair across from my desk. “I hope like hell they catch Bardot, because I’m starting to wonder what kind of a life you’re ever going to have if they don’t.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, same.”
I’d gotten a fitful couple hours of sleep on the couch in my office last night, and I could hardly eat because of the sick sensation churning in my gut. I went through meetings with accountants and investigators over my budget mechanically, answering their questions but still thinking about Bardot in the back of my mind.
