by Webb, Debra
“No kidding.”
Before she could climb out, he was already at her door offering his hand. They walked to the house together. His deputy opened the door to greet them.
“Sheriff,” the older man said as he pulled the door open wider.
He looked familiar. Abbey glanced at his name tag and smiled. “Deputy Johnson.”
He was the one who had found her father. Her father had been on a ladder repairing a piece of soffit on the house. He’d fallen, hit his head and died from exposure before he was found. The guilt she’d almost gotten under control twisted deep in her heart. She hadn’t been here for him. She’d been on a book tour and hadn’t taken the time to call that evening.
“Abbey.” The deputy gave her a nod. “Good to see you again.”
Lionel Hansen appeared in the doorway that led into the hall and the bedrooms on that side of the house. “Abbey.” He suddenly stiffened as if he’d had to resist his initial impulse to reach out to her the way he would have in the past. He turned his attention to Garrett then. “Sheriff.”
“I wanted to check once more before the roads become completely impassible,” Garrett said. “Are you certain you don’t want to go to Belgrade and stay with your sister?”
Mr. Hansen shook his head. “I’m not leaving.” He glanced at Abbey again. “I know the storm is creating issues for your investigation, but all I want is for you to find out who killed my wife.”
“I’m so sorry,” Abbey said, her heart aching for the man. His wife had been so nice. Every holiday after her mother was gone she’d brought homemade cookies to Abbey.
“You know,” he said to her, his gray eyes strangely cold, “my wife was murdered around the same time you showed up. I’ve been thinking about that all day. I just can’t see it as a coincidence.”
“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re…”
Garrett was responding to the man’s unexpected comment, but Abbey’s brain couldn’t seem to assimilate the words. She could only stare at the man who had known her since she was born. How could he think she would have anything to do with hurting his wife?
Steven was her brother. She supposed Mr. Hansen might believe she had some knowledge of her brother’s whereabouts.
“I haven’t seen my brother,” she said, interrupting whatever Garrett was saying. “Not in fifteen years. We haven’t spoken in all that time. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”
“Like my Dottie was wrong when your mother was murdered?” he countered, his voice rising with fury. “That low down brother of yours called her a liar.”
Garrett stepped between them, severing the visual contact. “Mr. Hansen, you’re emotional right now. You’re not thinking clearly. Abbey would never be involved in hurting anyone.”
“I read her books,” he fairly shouted.
The force of his words had Abbey backing up a step. What was he implying?
“Seems to me she’s got all kinds of evil thoughts in that head of hers.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could he say such a thing? She wrote fiction. Suspense. Clearly Garrett was right, the man was emotional and not thinking clearly. There simply was no other explanation.
“Stay in the house,” Garrett was saying to Hansen. “Listen to what Deputy Johnson says and we’ll get through this storm and back to what needs to be done as quickly as possible.”
Hansen stamped out of the room.
Garrett turned to Abbey. “I’m sorry. I should have anticipated he might react this way. They were married for most of their lives. He’s in a kind of shock.”
Feeling sad and defeated, there was nothing to do but shake her head. “I said what I needed to say. I can wait in the truck.”
Garrett held up a hand. “Give me a minute and we’ll go together. I just need to speak with Johnson a moment.”
“I’ll follow you out,” the deputy offered.
Abbey was already at the door before Garrett had finished pulling on his coat. The three of them exited the house. Garrett followed her to the truck and held her door while she climbed into the passenger seat as if she were too fragile to do so without assistance after the encounter with Hansen.
“I’ll just be a minute,” he said before closing the door.
She watched as he and Johnson huddled in the snow and carried on a conversation that seemed to be mostly one sided. Garrett was likely filling the other man in on the sighting of Steven. Abbey shifted her gaze, stared out her window. She didn’t want to go through this again. She exhaled a foggy breath. The thought was entirely selfish. Mr. Hansen assuredly hadn’t wanted his wife to be murdered either. Of course, Steven was the most logical suspect. She’d told herself this repeatedly. If he’d dared to show up in Livingston or elsewhere in Park County, then he was putting himself in the middle of this whether he was guilty or not. Her brother wasn’t stupid; he had to know that would be the case.
The men broke the huddle. Johnson went back into the house and Garrett climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Sorry for the delay,” he said as he started the engine.
“You had to bring him up to speed about Steven.”
“That,” he agreed, “and the fact that someone was at the old Munford place. I’m concerned it could be the same person who was in the treehouse.”
Her brother, he didn’t add.
The few minutes it took to drive to her house elapsed in silence. Abbey suddenly wondered why she hadn’t just hired someone to pack up and ship the things she wanted to keep and then donate or auction everything else.
She shouldn’t have come back.
Of course, that would have been impossible. She needed to see things and decide for herself. There were far too many treasures and mementoes she had forgotten to risk allowing someone else to go through the history of the family she’d once had.
The realization hurt with a fresh vengeance.
Garrett parked. “This is not your fault, Abbey. Whatever happened to Mrs. Hansen, you had nothing to do with it.”
“Too bad you and I are probably the only people in this county who believe that’s the case. It’s going to be just like last time all over again.”
She got out, battled the bitter wind and snow to reach the porch. She unlocked the door without looking back. No need. Garrett was close behind her. She felt his nearness despite the freezing cold wind.
“It’ll be dark in the next half hour,” Garrett said as he pulled off his coat and hung it up. “Are you set with firewood for the night?”
She hung her coat next to his. “I brought plenty inside earlier.”
“Good.” He glanced at the dwindling flames in the fireplace. “I’ll get the fire going again. Don’t argue with me about this. I’m staying.”
This was sure to be a long night. He was right. It was almost dark. He should stay. She shivered, still chilled by just walking those few yards through the snow. It wasn’t entirely the snow. Or the wind. She hugged her arms around her waist. History seemed determined to repeat itself and that chilled her to the bone.
She went to the kitchen and removed her boots and socks. While Garrett was still stoking the flames, she went to her room and pulled on a pair of dry socks. When she returned to the living room, he had pulled off his own boots and was warming his sock clad feet near the roaring fire. No matter how good the boots, in this kind of weather some amount of dampness was bound get through even if only by condensation.
“Would you like a pair of my father’s socks?”
“Not necessary. These will dry quickly enough.” He flashed her a smile. “I wouldn’t pass on a cup of coffee though.”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
By the time the smell of coffee filled the air, Abbey couldn’t resist having a cup herself no matter that she’d had too many already. Sleep likely wasn’t coming for her without significant prodding with a bottle of wine.
Garrett appeared next to her and leaned a hip against the counter. “What is it you do
in the big city when you’re not too busy?”
She laughed, couldn’t help herself. Somehow she’d known he wouldn’t let the comment go. “I spend a lot of time doing research for my work.”
She placed two mugs on the counter and filled one, then the other. She passed one to him and cradled the other. “I go to dinner with friends and colleagues. Reporters, sometimes. Bloggers. Do the occasional reading or speaking engagement.” She shrugged. “And I work. A lot.”
Like she should be doing right now.
He downed a slug of coffee. “No boyfriend? Fiancé?”
She sipped her coffee then shook her head. “I date occasionally, but nothing serious. I’ve been too focused on my career, I suppose.”
He stared at her for a long moment and she had to steel herself to prevent the awareness coursing through her to manifest itself in a shiver. It was too late at this point to blame the cold.
“You’re beautiful, successful. Hell, you’re a celebrity. How can you not be inundated with guys wanting to spend time with you?”
Now she really laughed. “There are lots of women far more beautiful,” she said this with a roll of her eyes, “and successful in New York.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I am not inundated with suitors.”
“Hard to believe.” He placed his mug on the counter and stared at her as if he’d asked a question and was anticipating her answer.
Rather than give him the chance, she asked her own. “What about you? You’re still single. I suppose you’re too busy as well.”
He snagged his coffee and swallowed a gulp. “I never date the same woman more than a couple of times.”
Abbey raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure you don’t mean that the way it sounds.”
He blinked then shook his head. “No, I mean I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. Women—some women—get the wrong idea after a couple of dates.”
“I see.” She nodded. “So, you are inundated with suitors.”
He laughed, but then his face and those dark eyes turned serious. “Not really, but even if I was it wouldn’t matter. I guess I never got over the one who got away.”
Abbey’s heart kicked into a faster rhythm and she had to turn away. Was he talking about her? Probably not. She went to the sink and poured out the rest of her coffee. Surely not. She would know, wouldn’t she? “I’ve had far too much of this already. I’ll never sleep tonight.”
Did she want him to be referring to her?
When she would have moved away from the sink, he stepped in beside her with his own cup. “Maybe you can tell me about your new book.”
He stood so close and the tension between them sparked with new potency.
His cell phone chirped. For a moment she feared he wasn’t going to answer it and would instead continue staring at her with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.
He reached for his phone, checked the screen, then walked away.
Abbey managed a breath. She closed her eyes and regathered her wits. They had been friends for so long…they’d shared everything until she moved away. Even on her visits to her father, Garrett had always made time to take her to dinner or to just sit around talking, catching up.
But this didn’t feel like friendship. This felt like far more. As if they’d moved through some thin barrier that separated the warmth and familiarity they’d always shared from something hot and fierce…visceral.
Her father’s warning that she couldn’t ignore her personal needs forever echoed in her mind. He’d always hoped she and Garrett would end up together. As a college student she’d been incensed by his persistent optimism on the subject. She had big plans and those plans didn’t include coming back to Park County to spend the rest of her life. She’d needed to be away from this place. Away from the memories…from the way people had looked at her even long after that awful day.
Garrett came back into the kitchen, his face clean of whatever might be on his mind. “I’m ready to hear about your new work in progress.” He rinsed his mug, filled it with water and drank it down.
Despite her best efforts she watched his hand, his throat and then his lips as he lowered the mug to the sink next to hers.
She blinked away the images. “Everything okay?” If there had been another sighting of Steven she would like to know.
“My deputies didn’t find anything at the Munford property. For the next few hours we’ll be focusing primarily on keeping folks safe as this storm sweeps through. I’ll probably get calls all night. I’m hoping there won’t be any accidents or anyone going missing.”
She imagined he would be up most of the night. Which meant she needed to be in her own room sleeping. She would tell him about her story over dinner and then she was putting a few walls between them. This unfamiliar territory had unnerved her.
Though she might never be back in Park County, Garrett was a dear friend. She didn’t want to risk ruining that with something impulsive.
“Since you promised to bring pizza when you came back,” she reminded him, “you’re lucky I had a frozen one delivered today.”
“You pretty much let me know you’d be fine without me around. I figured the pizza was off…” He shrugged, then smiled. “But, hey, I’m happy to preheat the oven.”
She laughed, felt a little of the unfamiliar tension slip away. “Deal.”
While he prepared the oven, she dug out the pizza pan and removed the frozen entrée from its packaging. She told him about her latest project and her hopes for what came next in her career. He appeared enthralled by her every word. This made her inordinately happy.
When the pizza was done, she opened a bottle of wine and they moved into the living room. He took the sofa and she settled in her mother’s chair.
“Since I missed the ten-year reunion, why don’t you catch me up on all the gossip?”
“My mother,” he said on a laugh, “recounts what every classmate we had is doing about once a month.” At Abbey’s confused expression, he explained, “It’s her way of reminding me that I’m not married and have not provided her with any grandchildren.”
Abbey laughed as much from his resigned expression as from his mother’s persistence. He brought her up to speed on who was married and who had children. Who was divorced and who had moved away. Sadly, he was correct. It was a little depressing in one sense. Mostly it was funny and real and familiar. Then the trip down memory lane really began. Oh, the stories they could both tell but she was more than satisfied allowing him to do the telling.
She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed so much as she devoured slices of pizza and drank wine. With all that was going on in his county Garrett stuck with water. Didn’t matter. She consumed enough wine for the both of them, just listening to him talk. Watching his lips as he spoke. Relishing the way his eyes lit up whenever he talked about some of the most memorable times they had shared.
Before she knew it, she was the one talking and he was doing the watching and listening.
That was the moment…the moment she saw in his eyes what she understood deep inside.
There would never be a serious relationship or a special someone.
Because he was here and she was there and this bond between them refused to be severed by time or distance.
Instead, it grew stronger and stretched into new territory.
Livingston 31 News
Camille Dutton had never been so cold in her life. She stood just inside the doors of Gil’s bar at the historic Murray Hotel. Christmas lights twinkled in every window. Since darkness had crept in, Livingston had become a ghost town. Snowdrifts banked against anything not moving. Trees, buildings, vehicles. It was a mess. She could just imagine how bad it would be by morning. Snowplows were doing all possible to clear the roads, but the sheer volume of snow was overwhelming. Guests from the hotel were hanging out in the bar, but Camille didn’t mind an audience. She’d had a change of clothes and freshened her makeup since her last broadcast. She was good to go.
Since
Garrett hadn’t returned her calls, she’d spoken to his deputy sheriff, Kyle Wagner. According to Kyle, Garrett was staying close to this morning’s homicide scene. Camille was relatively certain that wasn’t entirely accurate since Scott Pearson had told her about Garrett offering to drop off a delivery to Abbey Gray. Camille had already heard that Abbey was back in town. Those who knew the two had told Camille that everyone had always suspected there was something more than friendship between them. More likely, Garrett was staying close to his old flame. Oh well, Garrett had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Whatever, she had bigger plans than this two-horse town anyway.
The thing that really got under her skin was the idea that she could be reporting on a murder instead of this storm if Garrett had bothered to give her a heads up. At least the storm was national news. She’d be getting some major face time across the country for this. Reporting on some old woman who was murdered in her backyard wouldn’t have done much for her career. Still, he could have at least told her about it.
“And we’re live in,” her cameraman announced, “three, two one.”
“Holly has certainly lived up to her promise, friends. In some areas as much as three feet of snow has fallen already. Roads are impassable. Snowplows are out in full force, but they can’t stay ahead of the snow that continues to fall. I’ve checked in with the Park County Sheriff’s Department and we’ve been very lucky so far. No known casualties related to the storm. The north western part of the state hasn’t been so lucky. Stay off the roads, please. Stay in your homes. By noon tomorrow Holly will be forging a path through Wyoming. The Jackson Hole Airport has already closed due to the wind and snow. For now, folks, everything in Livingston and the surrounding area is closed to ride out the storm.”
Camille pressed a hand to her chest. “I urge you to please stay inside. We’re hovering at fourteen degrees, but it feels far colder with the wind still gusting a good thirty miles an hour. Unfortunately, it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”