GRIFFIN
“Are you decent?” Knox called from the front door. “No,” I lied.
He came inside anyway. “Are you alone?” “Yeah.”
“Damn. I was hoping to meet the chief. I’m feeling left out.”
“Mateo hasn’t met her either.” I nodded to the plastic container in his hand. “What’s that?”
“Breakfast.” He set it on the counter before heading to the coffeepot. “Remember at Christmas when that baker from California stayed at the hotel? We’ve been emailing, exchanging recipes. I talked her into giving me her cinnamon roll recipe. I made some early this morning, took a batch to Mom and Dad’s. Thought I’d drop some here too.”
“Thanks.” I popped the lid off the container and my mouth watered at the scent of cinnamon and bread and sugar. Each roll was as big as my face.
Knox had brought two, probably thinking Winn was here. “You look about as tired as I feel,” he said.
“I am.” I yawned.
The coffee I’d been drinking since four hadn’t kicked in yet. I hadn’t slept well last night, mostly tossing and turning. Each time my arm would touch the empty side of the bed, I’d wake, worrying that Winn had left after
another nightmare. Then I’d remember that she’d stayed at the hospital, and not long after I’d fall back asleep, it would happen again.
Finally, as the faint rays of dawn had crept through my bedroom windows, I’d decided to get up and work in the office.
“How’s Covie doing?”
“Better. Winn stayed at the hospital again last night.” Against my pleading texts for her to sleep in a bed, not that damn chair. But if I was in her position, I would have done the same. “Sounds like Covie should get to head home today.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Glad to say it.” I didn’t want that sort of loss for Winn.
“What’s new?” Knox asked, taking a sip of coffee. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”
“You sat beside me at the rodeo.” “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” Since Winn had invaded my life, she’d been the constant focus. Before her, I’d head to the restaurant and let Knox cook me dinner once or twice a week.
“You’re serious about this one, aren’t you?” he asked. “I am.”
“Damn.” He blinked. “Thought you’d deny it.” “Not with Winn.”
“Remember that time when we were, what, twelve and ten? We made a pact to never get married.”
“I remember.” I chuckled. “Girls are gross. Boys rule.”
“We were going to build a tree house and live in it forever.” Knox laughed. “Then we hit puberty and the tree-house plans were torched.”
We’d both been fairly popular at Quincy High, and neither of us had gone long without a girlfriend. Though Knox had always dated more seriously, I’d been a typical teenage boy—in it for the sex.
Hell, that’s how it had been my whole life. That’s how it had started with Winn.
But if there was a woman to steal for the future, it was her.
I’d thought there wouldn’t be time to add another person, another commitment, to my life. But being with her wasn’t work. She fit. Seamlessly.
I wasn’t getting any younger. My family was big and loud and exhausting more often than not. But the idea of building my own legacy, having my own children, grew more and more appealing each day.
I shook my head, getting ahead of where we were. First, we’d start with introductions to my family. And a date. She deserved a first date. “I’ll bring Winn down to dinner. Tonight, if she’s up to it.”
“That would be great.” Knox went to the island and slid onto a stool.
The normal stubble on his face had grown so thick it was almost a beard. His hair was longer than it had been in years, curling at the nape of his neck and as shaggy as mine. With the black tattoos on his biceps peeking out from beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt, he looked more like the bikers who rolled through Quincy each summer on their way to Sturgis than a successful businessman and chef.
Though I guess that’s probably what people thought of me too. I wore dirty jeans and scuffed boots to run this multimillion-dollar ranch.
“Mom and Dad told me about Briggs this morning,” Knox said. “Sounds bad.”
“It is.” I sighed. “And the worst part is how fast it’s happening.”
“He’s been coming into the restaurant for lunch. Two, three times a week. Seems totally fine.”
“I think most of the time, he is. But that doesn’t matter if during the bad times he tries to burn the goddamn ranch down.”
“Agreed. Dad said he was going to make some calls today.” “It’s the right thing to do. You’d do it for me.”
“I would.” Knox nodded. “Just like you’d do it for me.”
I waved it off, not wanting to talk about this today. Not wanting to think about my brother going through something like this.
Knox and I were the closest in age. At only two years apart, the two of us had been inseparable as kids. We’d explored the ranch, building forts and hunting invisible monsters with our BB guns.
We’d both been disgusted with our parents for having three girls. And by the time Mateo was born, nine years younger than me, we hadn’t played much with him as a young boy. The times we had, it was as a babysitter.
I loved Mateo, but my bond with Knox went deeper. He was the one I’d called my senior year when I’d gotten too drunk at a keg party and needed a ride. He’d called me to bail him out of jail after getting tangled in a bar fight years ago. A woman at the bar had been arguing with her boyfriend, and when the boyfriend had backhanded her, Knox had taught the son of a bitch a lesson.
Gone were the drunken nights. Anymore, the two of us would sit on my porch and have a few beers. Sometimes he’d crash here instead of driving to his place in town.
“Are you working today?” I asked. “Always. You?”
“Every day.”
Jim, Conor and the other hands had already stopped by to check in for the day. With all of them out working, I’d decided to stick closer to home. Mostly, I wanted to be around if Winn came out.
“Speaking of work”—Knox drained the rest of his coffee—“I’d better get going. Prep work is waiting. We’ve been slammed lately.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Knox’s dream was to run his own restaurant. He’d always loved being in the kitchen, working beside Mom, soaking up everything she could tell
him. When he’d announced that he was going to culinary school, none of us had been surprised.
“I’ll be in for dinner. With or without Winn. Maybe after, if you can get away, we can head to Willie’s for a beer.”
“You’re on.” He stood and, with a wave, headed for the door.
I finished my own cup of coffee, then found my work boots and went to the barn.
My plan was to spend an hour or two outside, then take a shower and, if I hadn’t heard from Winn yet, head to town. This was the longest I’d gone without seeing her in a week. With all she had happening with Covie, I was worried.
She hadn’t replied to the last message I’d sent her this morning to check in. She was probably busy getting her grandfather out of the hospital and to his home. But still, I worried.
Mom had told me once that we worried for those we loved most. For Winn, I’d always worry.
It was something I’d have to figure out. Get a handle on. She had a dangerous job, and though she wasn’t out on nightly patrols, there were times when she’d be on the streets with the wackos. It was the reason I’d stayed awake on the Fourth. I’d known she was out and that had kept me up until she’d come over.
Those worries were a constant rattle in my head. Even an hour doing physical chores in the barn didn’t clear my mind like it usually did.
I was in the middle of cleaning out Jupiter’s stall when the crunch of tires came from the driveway. I strode into the sunshine, and the knot in my chest loosened as Winn stepped out of the unmarked Explorer she drove for work.
“Hey, baby.” I walked right to her and pulled her into my arms. “How are you?”
She stiffened, shying away. “Fine.”
“Oh, sorry.” I brushed at my sweaty chest and the bits of hay stuck to my T-shirt. “How’d it go at the hospital? How’s Covie?”
“He’s okay. Home and settled for the moment.” She met my gaze for a brief second, then her blue irises dropped to my shoulder. She stood stiff, her forehead furrowed. There were dark circles under her eyes and the normal flush to her cheeks was missing.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Not really.” She shook her head, then squared her shoulders and straightened. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay,” I drawled. “About?” “Your uncle.”
“Briggs? Did something happen?”
She nodded. “I’m going to bring him in for questioning.” “Questioning? For what?”
“I went to see him yesterday.”
I blinked, trying to wrap my head around this. I’d been worried about her, thinking she was at the hospital with Covie. Thinking about her at home alone, trying to get some sleep. But she’d been on the ranch. My ranch. “You went to the cabin. Yesterday, after the hospital. Without me?”
“I told you weeks ago I was going to talk to him.”
“Yeah, but you could have warned me.” Weren’t we at the point where we shared this sort of thing?
“I needed to do this alone.”
“Alone.” What the hell? I took a step back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why?”
“There’s a rumor that he has a history of violence toward women.”
“A rumor.” I scoffed. “Now I get it. You were listening to Frank’s poison. There was no abuse. Briggs’s wife left him because she was a spoiled bitch. She thought he’d take over the ranch and get the money. When she realized he had no interest in running this place and was going to
let my dad take it all, she skipped town—with all of his money, by the way. And before she left, she decided to fuck up his reputation first.”
Everyone who knew Briggs knew the truth. He would never have hit his wife. He’d adored her, and when she’d left him, it had broken his heart.
“You should have come to me first,” I snapped. “For the truth.” Winn tensed. “I’m coming to you now.”
“To what? To tell me that you’re going to haul my uncle in for questioning on a marital dispute from decades ago?”
“I’m bringing him in to talk about Lily Green and Harmony Hardt.” My heart stopped. “Why?”
“When I was at the cabin, I found a purse and a wallet. The purse was Harmony’s. Her mother confirmed it for me yesterday afternoon. The wallet was Lily’s.”
“You searched my uncle’s cabin.” She might as well have slapped me in the face.
“No. He invited me in and I saw the purse on his bookshelf.”
The bookshelf that was always so clustered and full of junk I hadn’t really noticed what he’d kept on it. The contents changed constantly, and the only times I paid it much attention were when I’d go to the cabin and find the shelves organized.
“The wallet was inside,” she said. “He gave me permission to look.” Was that supposed to make me feel like she hadn’t betrayed me?
I shook my head, my molars grinding together so tight my teeth hurt. “I can’t believe you’d do this.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“You’re taking Frank motherfucking Nigel’s opinion over mine.” She flinched. “No, I’m not.”
“I told you once that the bastard hates my family. I’ve known him my entire life and he’s always treated me like shit beneath his shoe.” If she was going to get pulled into the rumor mill, then she might as well get some
facts to balance out the bullshit. “Did you know the reason he’s such a prick to Talia is because he hit on her when she was eighteen and she told him to fuck off?”
Winn blinked. “I, um . . . no.”
“Or how he goes into the coffee shop when Lyla is the only one working and makes her feel uncomfortable? Did he tell you how she’s had to excuse herself into the back room twice to call Knox to come over so she’s not alone with Frank?”
“No. He . . .” She shook her head. “What? Frank? I’ve known him my whole life. Maybe he’s a flirt but he’s harmless.”
“So is Briggs.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it, taking a moment to weigh her words. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”
“A little too late, don’t you think?”
While I’d been worried about her yesterday, thinking she was distraught over Covie’s heart attack, she’d been on my property, talking to my uncle when she knew we had family shit happening with him at the moment.
“I didn’t have to come here at all.” Her expression hardened. “By all rights, I shouldn’t have told you, but because of our relationship, I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”
“Our relationship.” I clenched my jaw. A relationship that I’d thought was serious enough that she’d come to me before believing Frank’s bullshit.
Winn held up her hands. “I need to go.” “Fine.”
I refused to look at her as she returned to the SUV, reversed away and disappeared down the road. When the sound of her engine was drowned by distance, I kicked a rock. “Fuck.”
This was going to be a mess. A real fucking mess. What if Briggs said the wrong thing? Why would he have Harmony Hardt’s purse? And Lily Green’s wallet?
I wouldn’t get the chance to ask him first. Winn was probably already on her way to the cabin. And the minute she brought him into the station, the entire town would know. One of the officers at the station would talk, and before my family and I had answers, Briggs would have earned yet another black mark on his reputation that would last the rest of his days. Just like the one his ex had delivered.
Decades later, there were those who still believed he’d beat her. And people like Frank, those who didn’t like that our family was so ingrained in Quincy, only made it worse.
The rumor mill was about to spin out of control.
“Fuck!” I shouted, then spun and jogged for the house. I swiped my keys off the counter and hustled to my truck.
Its wheels left a trail of dust as I sped along the gravel road to Mom and Dad’s.
We could have talked at the cabin. Winn could have questioned him there with one of us present. Why was she insisting on dragging him into town?
Briggs had most likely found the purse and wallet on one of his hikes. Much like Lily’s boots. The day I’d taken those to her office, she’d told me she was going to talk to Briggs. As she should. But was it really necessary to bring him into the station?
I stomped the gas pedal.
If Briggs was having an episode, if he wasn’t as sharp as he normally was, what would he say to her? It felt like she was handing the man a shovel and telling him to dig his own grave. All because she had questions to ask.
Her damn questions. Winn had been so against calling Lily’s death a suicide. But we all knew it was suicide. The whole town. So why wouldn’t she just let it go?
This was nothing more than a case of lost and found. A purse and a wallet. Hell, that purse had probably been out on a trail for years collecting dust and rain.
If I begged, would she take Briggs to the main house? Could we have this conversation at Mom and Dad’s kitchen table, where he’d feel more comfortable?
I shifted and dug my phone from my back pocket, bringing up her name. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Shit.” I drove faster.
The pit in my stomach doubled in size.
Maybe the reason I was so pissed wasn’t because Winn was going to talk to Briggs. It was because I was fucking terrified that maybe there was a reason why.
She wouldn’t haul him to the station if there wasn’t something wrong.
Right?
What had been in that purse? Why hadn’t Briggs turned it in after Harmony Hardt’s death? Why had he kept Lily Green’s wallet? He knew where those girls had died.
Fuck. If he’d had something to do with those deaths . . .
No. Those poor girls had killed themselves. The former chief had investigated. Harmony Hardt had been depressed. She’d been struggling with mood swings according to her closest friends.
Her death had nothing to do with my uncle. My kind, gentle uncle who was losing his clear mind.
Mom was in the yard on her knees, pulling weeds from a flower bed, as I skidded to a stop beside Dad’s Silverado. She must have realized something was wrong because she stood, tearing off her garden gloves and tossing them on the lawn as she met me by the porch. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s watching the news. You’re scaring me, Griffin. Is it your brothers or sisters?”
I shook my head. “No, it’s Briggs.” “Oh no,” she breathed. “Come in.”
I followed her inside. Dad was in his recliner in the living room with the news on the TV, his glasses on and the newspaper in his lap.
“Hi, son.” His forehead furrowed as he looked between me and Mom. He kicked the footrest of the chair closed and sat straight. “What’s going on?”
I planted my hands on my hips. “We’ve got trouble.”
