Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58727 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
She shudders. “Nope. It seems we both have shitty dads.”
20
SADIE
* * *
Miles and I don’t talk a lot on our way back to Bayfield, which is just as well. My mind is tumbling with facts and analyses, only everything is disjointed into words and phrases. I’m a good cop, a good detective. My thoughts aren’t usually this jumbled.
We grabbed any kind of papers and notebooks that were in boxes, leaving behind everything else, which I doubt is headed to the dump. That’d take too much effort for my father. I don’t want to miss a bit of evidence that might help find Joey’s killer.
When Miles pulls up in front of my place, I turn to him. “I don’t want to go in there.”
“Okay. Where do you want to go?”
“Can we go back to your place? I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course, baby. But you know I have to talk to my brothers about what we learned today.”
“I know. I can deal.”
“No problem. I just thought you might want to be alone.”
I let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Alone is the last thing I want to be right now. Even though I hadn’t seen my brother in so long, I thought I’d made my peace with all of it. Apparently I haven’t.”
“Of course you haven’t. He was your brother.” Miles kicks the car back into gear.
“This is my case. Well, was, if Peterson didn’t pull me. But we’ve got some real leads in Joey’s stuff. I’m in this thing no matter what.”
He nods. “We’ll go back to my place. I need to talk to Chance and Austin, maybe even get in touch with our attorney.”
“Didn’t you ask Chance to do that?”
“Yeah, I did, but I don’t know if Shankle—that’s his name, Tom Shankle—will even talk to us on a Sunday.” Then he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “Although for what I’m sure we pay him, he’ll probably come out and give us a foot massage on a Sunday. If not, I know a guy in New York I can call.”
I smile, sort of. Miles does so much for me, and if he can get me to smile he’s sure doing something right.
We stay silent again as we drive back out to the ranch.
A car—a really nice car, a Lincoln maybe? I don’t know shit about cars—sits in the long driveway heading to the Bridger house.
“What did I tell you?” Miles says. “That’s Shankle’s car. I guess we can both get a foot massage today.”
This time a smile doesn’t come because I know, if an attorney is in the house, we’re going to be talking about Joey. About his body. Not just about the visit with my father today.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to come here.
“Hey,” Miles says, clearly sensing my discomfort, “I can show you where my room is, and you can lie down. Or you can sit out on the back deck. There’s a hot tub out there. It has soothed my muscles and joints many a night after Chance worked my ass off around here.”
“I don’t have a suit with me.”
His gaze heats, but then he says, “Carly’s here. She can probably find you something.”
“I’m a lot bigger than Carly.”
“Then you can wear one of my T-shirts. Or you can go naked.” He winks. “No one’s going to care.”
I shake my head. “As much as a dip in the hot tub sounds like heaven, if you guys are going to be talking about Joey, I need to be involved. Besides, I’m a professional detective. I’ll probably have some insight. Please don’t try to keep me away because you think I might get upset.”
I keep myself from laughing at my own words. All during the ride home all I could think of were pieces and chunks of information that I couldn’t make sense of. I likely won’t be any help at all, but I should be there. No matter how much I don’t want to.
“Whatever you want, baby.” Miles gets out of his truck, comes around to the passenger side, and opens the door for me.
He’s such a gentleman. He’s such…
He’s just everything. Miles Bridger is simply everything.
How did he come to mean so much to me in such a short time? Am I being overly needy?
Whatever it is, I don’t have the energy to question it right now.
Miles takes my hand, and he leads me to the front door, where we enter.
Sure enough, Chance and Austin Bridger—along with Carly—are seated in the large living room along with a man wearing a white button-down shirt, jeans, cowboy boots, and a black bolo tie.
The attorney, I presume.
Chance and Austin both rise. The attorney rises and turns, his gaze falling on me.
“Who’s this?” he asks.
“This is Sadie Hopkins.” Miles slips his arm around my shoulder. “She’s the sister of the deceased and a detective on this case. Sadie, our lawyer, Tom Shankle.”