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He looked confused for a moment before understanding lit his eyes. “You mean horses? Heck no. The man can barely stand to be in the saddle for more than ten minutes. He wasn’t built for riding. Most of the horses are skittish around him—probably because they can sense his nerves. That’s why he drives his truck.”
Grant wasn’t in the saddle much. His truck was his mode of transportation. That meant whoever wanted to frame him was likely aware of this fact and had counted on him driving the truck to the work site. They could have easily planted the bottles in his truck so they could call in the DUI suspicions.
Her stomach flipped. She was getting so close she could almost see the full picture. Her assumptions about the suspect being on the ranch had to be correct. If only she could figure out which one was responsible.
Bella glanced toward the men. None of them seemed to harbor any ill will toward Grant. They all seemed to look up to him despite his inability to keep up.
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up. She wasn’t on call today, but it was her office number. Strange.
“This is Whitfield.”
“Fire at Sagebrush Ranch,” the voice blurted. “You were working with them on their vandalism case, right?”
“Yes, but?—”
“You should probably get out there. Grant Shaw’s RV is on fire.”
Her heart stumbled to a stop. “Grant?” Her voice was small, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the person on the other end didn’t hear her.
“Yes. It just started. The fire department has already been called. You probably want to get over there right away.”
Her hands shook. Her voice trembled. But she managed to get out the words, “I’m on my way,” before she hung up and pulled herself down from her seat. Bella threw a couple twenties on the bar and waved to Lacey. “Pack this up for me. I’ll come get it later.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“If I’m honest, I’m really going to miss having you around.”
Grant sat in a chair across from Eli’s desk. He’d been in enough meetings with people to know that his boss was only saying what he thought Grant wanted to hear. While Eli was a good man with a good heart, he had grown tired of the vandalism just like Grant had.
Eli picked up a piece of paper, glanced at it, and shifted his gaze to Grant. “That’s not the only reason I called you in here. I wanted to apologize.”
Grant didn’t move. He’d been on the other side of the desk long enough to know that Eli was looking for a reaction, and Grant was determined to give him nothing.
His boss returned the piece of paper to his desk and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. He studied Grant for a moment before speaking. “I’m sorry for assuming you were the one responsible for the vandalism.” He paused for a few seconds. “I was actually hoping I might be able to convince you to stay.”
There it was. The reason for this conversation. Eli had heard that Grant was leaving. Yes, Grant had planned on putting in his two weeks’ notice, but he’d also wanted to tell Charlotte and Nick about it first. Someone must have overheard him talking to Bella.
“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Grant said.
“So you’ll stay?”
“You misunderstand. It doesn’t matter because I’m not going to stick around. I’m working on finding a place for my RV and I’ll be taking off in the next couple of weeks unless I can find something sooner.”
Eli leaned forward this time, the chair creaking with his movement. He wasn’t happy, that much was clear. “Perhaps we can talk this out?—”
Bo burst into the office. His eyes darted from a surprised Eli to Grant. “Your RV is on fire.”
Grant shot out of his seat. Eli did the same, but with enough force to knock his chair against the wall behind him. They rushed for the door, bumping into one another as they attempted to move through it at the same time.
The house must have been insulated better than most buildings because it wasn’t until they reached outside that Grant could hear the sirens. They were close, likely less than a mile away. Shouts and hollers came from the direction of Grant’s RV, and he took off toward the commotion.
Smoke rose in the air, and when Grant rounded the side of the house, he could see the flames licking the sky. Dark, inky smog rose from his home, polluting the air with its strident smell. About half of the onlookers were transfixed by the sight, while some quick thinkers had managed to find a hose.
It was already too late. Grant could see that clear as day. No amount of cold water would change the fact that he’d lost his home.
Then a realization hit him hard in the chest. It stole the air from his lungs and the blood from his head.
Nick.
