by Erin Marsh
“He’s not coming up with names because he’s the one who stole the six-pack,” Officer McPherson continued. “All evidence points toward him being the culprit.”
Clay studied the photograph, focusing on the height of the boy. His nephew was just now starting to hit his growth spurt. He’d probably end up being tall like Clay, but he still had a lot of growing left. The teenager in the picture towered over the shelves surrounding him.
“That kid doesn’t even fit Zach’s build,” Clay said, and Marisol grabbed the grainy snapshot to look closer.
“Mr. Stevens is right.” Marisol pushed the image in Officer McPherson’s direction.
He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t seem convinced. “I’m going to investigate further. The stolen cans don’t account for all the beer at the campsite.”
“This is speculation,” Marisol said. “And, again, out of your jurisdiction.”
The officer swung his eyes on Clay, his expression hard. “How did those kids get their hands on so much beer? It’s almost like an adult purchased some for them.”
Clay stilled. Aw hell, now he was under scrutiny? “I wouldn’t know.”
“Funny that your truck was there, and you never reported it stolen. I’m figuring either you chauffeured the kids there or Zach drove it, which means he was driving as a minor without a license on roads under my jurisdiction.”
“Do you have any evidence, Officer?” Marisol asked crisply.
“I’m still working on it.” McPherson’s voice was as hard and unyielding as quartz. “But I’ll find something. He’s a Stevens, after all.”
* * *
“But I want to return to work!” Lacey protested as she rested her head against the cool surface of her refrigerator. She’d learned over the past few days that the cold helped her low-grade headaches. In addition to the dull pain, her head felt like it was encased in gelatin.
“Lacey,” her supervisor said in a calm voice, “you suffered a brain injury.”
“My CT scan came back clear,” Lacey protested.
“But you were diagnosed with a concussion,” her boss, Mary, pointed out.
“I can work through it,” Lacey said quickly.
“I’ve had a brain injury myself. You need rest. Your job is physically demanding, and there’s a lot of stimuli involved that could aggravate your symptoms.”
“I don’t want to be cooped up in my house.” Lacey needed the outdoors. Needed to smell the tangy scent of sagebrush and pine. Needed to feel the fresh air against her skin and the warm spring sun beating down on her back. Needed to hear the sharp, loud cry of the Steller’s jay. The wilderness, with all its harshness, healed her. Time and time again, she’d found solace in its untamed beauty.
“Have you tried stepping outside?” Mary asked.
“Of course,” Lacey said, her voice waspish. Except with a certain wolf-hating man, she was generally even-tempered, but the dizziness made her cranky. Her boss, luckily, did not appear fazed by Lacey’s tone.
“How does it feel to step into the sunlight?”
Like she was sinking into a vat of Vaseline, but Lacey chose to keep that particular observation to herself.
“Lacey, you haven’t taken a vacation since you started working here,” Mary continued. “It is okay to take more than a day off. We need you healthy for the high season this summer.”
“But—” Lacey began.
“I’m not asking you. This is an order. We can’t have a ranger out on the trails who is suffering from a concussion. If something were to happen, do you really want us expending resources to rescue you?”
“No,” Lacey said reluctantly as she opened the freezer door and pulled out an ice pack.
“You’ll recover faster if you allow yourself time to rest.”
But Lacey didn’t like to rest. She preferred staying active. If she didn’t…well, there were reasons she never stayed still for long. Demons couldn’t catch her if she ran fast enough and hard enough.
“How long is my enforced ‘relaxation’ going to be?”
“We’ll see what your doctor has to say.”
“You’re not going to give me any other choice, are you?”
“Nope.”
Lacey sighed. “Fine.”
“And Lacey?” Mary’s voice was gentle but firm. “I mean it. If we catch you at Rocky Ridge, I’m going to extend your medical leave.”
Lacey wanted to protest more but realized the futility. Mumbling out an “okay,” she hung up the phone and left the kitchen. With a sigh, she collapsed onto the beat-up couch that had been her grandparents’. As she sunk into the cushions, she arranged the ice pack over her eyes. Although she hated to admit it, lying down felt good. Really good.
* * *
“You suck.”
Clay glanced over at his sullen nephew. The kid had his arms crossed as he scowled at the road stretching before them. The temporary camaraderie they’d experienced while rescuing Lacey and the wolves had long since vanished. Ever since Zach had been released by law enforcement into Clay’s custody, the boy had brooded. Clay kept reminding himself that the teen was scared…and he should be. He was facing a buttload of charges. Marisol was pretty convinced the state wouldn’t have enough evidence to build a case, but the district attorney’s office certainly had enough to proceed to trial. Hell, even Clay was a witness.
“Zach, your actions caused Ms. Montgomery to be trapped in a cave-in. You owe her an apology.”
His nephew jerked his head to the right so that he faced away from Clay. “I didn’t make her go into that hole.”
Clay suppressed a sigh. He might not be the most intuitive person, but even he recognized that the incident bothered Zach. The boy seemed more defensive than defiant.
“Zach, you know your actions triggered the whole event.”
Silence. The boy didn’t say anything as he traced his finger along the passenger-side door. Clay didn’t push him. He honestly didn’t know how to communicate with the kid, and anything he said seemed to make things worse.
“Ms. Lopez doesn’t think we should talk to Ms. Montgomery,” Zach said finally, his voice surly.
“That might make legal sense,” Clay agreed, “but this is the decent thing to do. And it’s not like she’s suing us.”
Yet. After all, the Montgomerys had every reason to squeeze money from them. Trent Stevens’s pyramid scheme had nearly destroyed Lacey’s family. Her dad had suffered a fatal heart attack when he’d discovered he’d lost his entire savings in the scam. Folks said Lacey’s younger brother never recovered from his father’s death. The previously quiet and studious teenager had sought increasingly dangerous stunts until dying in a car crash caused by his reckless driving.
Unfortunately, Clay didn’t have a lot of cash to spare. His grandfather’s ranch hadn’t been doing great before the old man’s death. Although Clay had cut waste by keeping better track of supplies, he pumped all the profits into his plans to turn the ranch into a specialty beef business. He wanted to make Valhalla Beef as famous as Kobe.
“You’re an asshat.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Clay said.
Zach turned in his direction long enough to shoot him a killer glare before he returned to staring morosely out the window. Clay wondered if he’d been this bad as a teen. When the answer came to him, a side of his mouth quirked up. No, Clay had been worse and for far less reason than Zach. No wonder Clay’s parents had sent him to military school and then to his maternal grandfather’s. He’d been an irritating SOB.
“What are you smiling at?”
Clay turned to find his nephew watching him once again. He didn’t drop his lopsided grin. Instead, he shrugged as he turned into Lacey’s driveway. “Nothing.”
The petite ranger lived fairly close to his ranch in a small bungalow on her uncle’s spread. Since it was
more than a mile from the main compound, it was a rather desolate place, especially for a single person. He would have thought the bouncy woman would have chosen to live closer to town, but he supposed this was nearer to her work. Her backyard practically abutted the national park. He was surprised she didn’t live inside Rocky Ridge, but the area didn’t have too many facilities aside from a small lodge.
When Clay parked, he was relieved when his nephew climbed from the truck without another fight. Yeah, he might have shut the door a little hard, but at least Clay wasn’t going to have to drag him out by his collar and frog-march him up the sidewalk.
Clay rang the doorbell once. As they waited, Zach mumbled quietly, “I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Just put on a smile,” Clay said quietly. Zach didn’t, but he dropped the scowl. Without it, his fear became more apparent. Cautiously, Clay laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder. To his surprise, his nephew didn’t shake him off. Instead, he sighed and straightened a little as the door began to swing open.
Lacey stood in front of them, and for once, she didn’t look like a bubbly Girl Scout. If Clay hadn’t known about her head injury, he would’ve thought her hungover. Clumps of hair had come loose from her normally tight ponytail. The color had leached from her face, making her brown freckles stand out even more. Her eyes were narrowed, but it seemed more of a reflex against the sunlight than in irritation over their visit.
Clay found himself taking a step toward her. He didn’t know what he expected to accomplish. She just looked so miserable, and a part of him wanted to help. At his movement, her gaze swung toward his, and she shot him a look someone would give a rattler. He immediately froze. After all, he knew how folks in Sagebrush Flats took care of unwanted reptiles.
Clay cleared his throat. “Zach and I came to apologize and to see how you are doing.”
Some of the anger cleared from Lacey’s eyes. “I’m fine.” She paused. “I should thank you. Paul said you dug me out yourself.”
Clay nodded. She sounded sincere enough, but he noticed she didn’t invite them inside. If they’d been anyone else, she would’ve. Folks were generally friendly in these parts.
“We’re sorry you were put in that situation.”
“The wolf pups?” Zach’s question came suddenly, without warning. To Clay’s surprise, his nephew’s voice cracked a little. Both he and Lacey swiveled in the teenager’s direction. The young man’s features looked drawn, his lips pressed into a tight line. Zach was no longer masking his guilt. It dawned on Clay that the kid had dreaded learning the animals’ fate. The boy cared. Deeply. Clay hadn’t suspected that, but he should’ve. After all, he’d been a master at hiding his own emotions under layers of douchebaggery.
Lacey must have also detected Zach’s desperation. Her entire face softened. “Two of the pups have already been reunited with their mother and sibling. The pack has moved them all to a new den in Rocky Ridge.”
“What about the other two pups? I didn’t kill ’em, did I?” At the fear in Zach’s voice, Clay gently squeezed the boy’s shoulder. He didn’t know how else to comfort him.
Lacey shook her head. “They suffered some minor injuries to their legs and needed medical care. They’re at the Sagebrush Zoo and are doing well all things considered. They will probably stay at the animal park permanently since they likely won’t be able to return to the wild.”
Zach’s shoulders slumped in relief. He gazed at Lacey, his blue eyes surprisingly vulnerable. His aloofness had momentarily melted away, exposing a flood of juvenile insecurities. “I screwed up. I’m so sorry.”
To Clay’s surprise, Lacey didn’t lash out at Zach. The woman was so protective of her wolves that Clay hadn’t known how she’d react to their visit. He’d only known that apologizing was the right thing to do. His grandfather would’ve made him do the same, and Zach had to start accepting responsibility for his mistakes. Just as importantly, he needed to know Clay would support him through the cleanup process.
The whole thing made Clay think of the time he’d stolen a horse from his grandfather in an attempt to run away. He’d hated waking when the ranch hands did, and he’d sworn the old man made him do the worst jobs. Back then, he didn’t know a damn thing about riding. The mare had spooked at the creek crossing, throwing Clay. He’d busted his shoulder on a rock and bruised an ankle. His grandfather had collected the bay and left Clay to hobble back on his own. He’d still had to finish his chores when he’d returned. But his grandfather had stayed up until Clay went to bed. No matter what stunt Clay had pulled that season, the old man had never sent him packing. He’d even invited Clay back the next summer and every one after that.
“I believed you when you said you didn’t know the wolves were there,” Lacey told Zach.
The teenager’s blue-green eyes widened slightly. Like Clay, the kid wasn’t used to people giving him the benefit of the doubt. “You did?”
“But your behavior was still reckless,” Lacey spoke softly, her voice factual and not accusing. She’d entered ranger mode. “The campfire alone could have caused untold damage and not just to the park’s animal residents. A desert ecosystem is surprisingly fragile.”
Zach ducked his head. To Clay’s surprise, he didn’t talk back, which was his usual MO. “It was dumb of us.”
A gentle smile touched Lacey’s lips, and something cinched inside Clay near the vicinity of his heart. When she wasn’t railing at him, the woman exuded a soft warmth that wrapped around a man’s soul like a flannel blanket fresh from the dryer. It wasn’t hard to see why the whole town championed her. Even Zach didn’t appear immune to her wholesome charm.
“It was very dangerous,” Lacey agreed. “Hopefully, you’ll be more careful next time you’re in the national park.”
“So the wolves are really going to be okay? Even the two who were stuck in the tunnel with you? You’re not just telling me that ’cause I’m fourteen?”
“I talk to the zoo director every day about the lobos. They’re still under medical care, but the veterinarian says they’re getting stronger.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Zach blurted out. Even he appeared surprised by his offer. The teen typically avoided everything but trouble.
Lacey recovered first. She paused, clearly considering. “I could talk with Bowie Wilson, who runs the animal park. He’s always looking for volunteers. I don’t know how much you could assist with the pups, but there’s plenty of other work. Anything you could do around the zoo would give Bowie more time to care for the wolves.”
Zach swung his eyes toward Clay. He looked belligerent again. “Would you let me?”
Although Clay didn’t turn, he felt Lacey’s accusing gaze burn into the side of his face. Her gentle warmth had been replaced by thinly veiled fury. This was the Lacey he knew. Of course, she assumed the worst. Sure, he made Zach work on the ranch. It was good for him. But he hadn’t taken the teen in for free labor, and he didn’t demand much. Schoolwork came first, and if Zach would show an interest in anything other than deviant behavior, Clay would be the first to encourage him. But now, that may no longer be possible.
“Zach, I have no problem with you helping out at the zoo, but—”
“Oh please,” Lacey interjected.
This time, Clay did swing in her direction. Her topaz eyes glowed with righteous outrage, and he forced his own temper to calm. Zach was in enough trouble without Clay antagonizing a park ranger in a screaming match.
“Do you really despise the wolves so much—”
“I don’t,” Clay said simply. “I may not want them killing my livestock, but I’d be more than happy to see Zach clean up the mess he made by volunteering at the zoo. The fact is, ma’am, this whole thing is out of my control. Right now, it looks like Zach might be spending at least the spring and summer in juvenile detention. We’re on our way back from a meeting with the Sagebrush police.”
Clay watched as the golden fire in Lacey’s eyes banked. Understanding took its place and then swift confusion. “Everything happened on federal property. Why is the local force involved?”
“They’re curious how my truck got to the trailhead, and there’s a video of a kid lifting alcohol from the convenience store. Zach says it’s not him, and both the public defender and I agree the teen in the footage is too tall.”
Lacey’s chestnut-brown eyebrows drew down. “There was an older, lankier boy there that night. He was the one who actually caused the landslide.”
Clay glanced over at his nephew. He hadn’t known that. Zach didn’t look at either adult. He kept studying the ground as he rubbed his upper arms.
“Who was the other boy?” Lacey asked Zach.
He didn’t glance up at the question. Instead, he scuffed his sneakers in the dirt next to the sidewalk. “I won’t narc on my friends,” Zach said.
“Are you sure you want people like that to be your friends?” Lacey asked.
Zach jerked his chin up, his blue eyes fierce. He reminded Clay of his brother back when Greg had played soccer. Greg used to look like that during the last quarter of a game. He wouldn’t let anyone stop him from scoring one more goal.
“They’re my friends.”
Lacey studied him, her brown eyes not expressive for once. Finally, she bobbed her head and winced at the action.
“We’ve been here too long,” Clay said. “It looks like you should lie down.”
Lacey visibly bristled. He swore even her limp, half-undone ponytail quivered in sympathetic outrage. “I’m fine.”
“All right,” he said easily, “but we’ll stop pestering you. Thanks for accepting our apology.” Clay tipped his grandfather’s Stetson and turned to walk down the path. Zach trailed after him.
“Clay Stevens?”
He turned, halfway to his truck. Lacey looked torn, which surprised him. Until then, he would’ve doubted her capacity to second-guess herself. The woman had the single-mindedness of a charging bull.