Yet it felt strange walking up the path with a man who wasn’t Travis. In fact, the night he’d left, she had sworn that, as long as she lived there, he would be the last man who would ever set foot in this place. Then again, Casper wasn’t anything like Travis.
He was handsome...maybe even a little too handsome for her liking. Every nurse who had come into her room had kept their eyes on him a moment too long. It had been tempting to show the women that he was hers, but the truth was just the opposite. He was nothing more than a work colleague...albeit a work colleague who hadn’t left her side since the accident.
More than simply being handsome, he had a kind side. Often he tried to act tough, all business, but when he’d stepped between her and Travis in the hospital she had caught a glimpse of the sensitive and caring side that he tried to hide from the world.
She glanced over at him, but his face was hidden in the shadow cast by his hat. Maybe she was wrong; maybe she had an idealized version of who he really was—she had a terrible habit of doing that. She had sworn Travis was her knight in shining armor. At first it hadn’t mattered that her friends had warned her off; it didn’t matter when he told her who she could be friends with and what time she should come home, and it didn’t matter that for days on end he treated her like she was nothing more than his often neglected pet...coming and going as he pleased and not speaking to her for days. All that had mattered was that when he looked at her, the world stood still.
If only she had listened to what everyone had told her, and that tiny place in the back of her mind that had told her it was all too good to be true.
She couldn’t risk being hurt like that again. She doubted she could live through it a second time. “What did you do before you got stationed at Goat Haunt?” she asked as she unlocked the door.
Casper tensed at the question. He was so quiet that she wondered if he had even heard her.
“Casper?”
“Yeah... I was in the FBI. Mostly specializing toward the end—handwriting analysis, that kind of thing.” He closed the door behind them and stood there, his back to her as he stared at the door like a trapped animal.
“Look, if you want, you can go. I think I can handle things from here.”
He took out his phone and glanced down at his screen. “No...it’s fine. Grant hasn’t gotten back to me yet. There’s nothing more for me to do until I hear from him.”
“What all did he say?” she asked as she gingerly walked to the old, tattered brown couch and sat down. There was a threadbare quilt that hung over the back, one her foster mother had made her back in grade school. There was even a bit of purple nail polish she had carelessly spilled ages ago.
“The drugs are missing. He’s going to go back to the scene and check to make sure he didn’t miss anything.” Stuffing the phone into the breast pocket of his jean jacket, he sat down in the recliner across from her. “And he found a receipt.”
“A receipt? What do you mean?”
“It was jammed into the corner of the green bag.”
“I swear I looked everywhere in that thing... But I guess I could have missed it. Wait, do you think someone planted it, Mr. FBI?”
He cringed, but she wasn’t sure why.
He opened up his phone and pulled up the photos of the bag that they had taken on scene. “Regardless of how it got there, because we screwed up the chain of custody, the receipt can’t be used in court for anything. We can’t prove that it was or wasn’t there without reasonable doubt.”
“But it could help us figure out the vic’s identity, right?”
“I suppose,” he said, giving her a weak smile. “Right now though, you need to take care of yourself and just focus on getting some rest.” He stood up and grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch, wrapping it around her shoulders.
She caught his familiar scent and closed her eyes. She imagined pulling him down on the couch beside her, wrapping him in the blanket and letting him hold her. They could spend the day together, huddled in each other’s embrace and away from the hurt that filled the world around them.
When she opened her eyes to find him looking at her, she started to reach toward him, but he pulled away. She dropped her hand and realized that it was still hidden by the blanket. He couldn’t have known what she was thinking or what she wanted, but there was still a pang of rejection.
“Uh, tea or coffee?” he asked with a cute half smile.
By this time of day she was normally on her second or even third cup of the tar-black stuff they brewed at the ranger station. Yet the thought of the melt-your-spoon coffee made her stomach churn. “Tea, but I can get it.” She moved to stand up, but he stopped her.
“No. You. Sit. Down,” he commanded, pointing at the couch. “I got this.”
She did as he asked and he made his way to the kitchen.
There was a bang of cupboards and the sound of water running. She leaned over the arm of the couch, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, but he was just out of sight. “The teapot’s on the stove, but if you need a cup—”
“Got it, but where’re the tea bags?”
It was her solemn belief the best tea could only be brewed by use of loose leaf teas, but somehow asking him—the man who banged around in her kitchen like a gorilla in its cage—to go to that much work seemed like a stretch. “There’s some leftover stuff in the cupboard over the stove,” she said as a smile played across her lips.
Somehow it felt right having a man back in the place, someone to share the little space. Then again, over the last year she had found solace in being alone. She could have things her own way and take things at her own pace. There was never anyone there pushing her, making her compromise or check in. She had been truly independent.
Casper poked his head around the corner and lifted up a box of Lipton. “This it?” He smiled, and the simple action made her heart stutter.
She nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”
He waved her off. “I got this, Lex. Have faith.”
Faith was something she had in limited supply—especially when it came to having faith in a man.
She got up, walked to the kitchen and leaned against the wall, the quilt still wrapped around her shoulders.
Casper had his back to her, and his hips moved with a song that must have only been in his head. She moved to speak, to let him know she was there, but stopped and instead just enjoyed the view of his round, well-muscled derriere shifting under his tight jeans. Maybe she was objectifying the man, but she couldn’t help herself. He was a fine specimen.
There was a faint whistle as the kettle started to boil and he turned to grab a cup with string hanging out. He saw her and smiled. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know that you might have missed your calling. You should’ve been a stripper.” She laughed, and heat rushed to her face as she realized how bold she sounded. “Sorry...” she quickly offered. “Sometimes the filter between my brain and my mouth malfunctions.”
“I don’t think my mother would agree with you...at least about the stripper bit.” He laughed, the sound rich and thick. “And your filter, or lack of one, is something I happen to like about you. Honesty is always attractive.”
The heat intensified in her cheeks. “I...er...” she stumbled as she realized that he thought she was pretty. She didn’t know exactly how to respond. “Is the tea ready?”
He poured the water over the tea bag and let it sit for a few seconds before handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, taking a sip of the boiling hot liquid. The tea was so old it had gone stale, but she swallowed it down. “It’s great,” she said, her voice so high that she wondered if he could hear her lie.
He lifted a corner of the blanket as it started to slip from her shoulder. As his fingers grazed her s
kin, she found herself leaning into his hand, wanting more.
“How’s your head, filter notwithstanding?” he said, his voice taking on a soft edge.
“I’m good.” Aside from the way her head seemed to lighten every time he drew near, she felt fine. “Do you have a picture of the receipt?” she asked, trying to move the conversation away from the way she felt. “Maybe we can pull something from it if the person paid with a card.”
The light in his eyes dimmed, like he was slightly disappointed in being drawn back to work, yet she couldn’t be drawn into anything more than a friendship with the handsome agent. It was too soon to jump into another relationship. It had been a year, but her heartache was still too fresh to want to step into something that almost certainly would shatter her further.
Casper pulled out his phone and scanned through its pictures. “There’s one...it looks like the receipt is for someplace called The Prince and the Pea.”
“Really?” She giggled, stepping close so she could see the picture of the receipt. “Oh wait, I know that place. It’s on the Waterton side.”
Glacier National Park was merely one part of the first International Peace Park, spreading over the American/Canadian border and merging with Waterton Lakes Park in Alberta.
“What kind of shop is it?”
She bit her lip as she tried to remember. “It’s just a touristy place. You know, flag cups and Waterton sweatshirts.”
He stared at his phone. “He spent thirty-seven bucks.”
“In a place like that, that wouldn’t go very far. Everything around the park is expensive.” She glanced at the phone but the receipt didn’t list what was purchased or a credit card number.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the time stamp. “It’s from three days ago, kinda late in the evening.”
His gaze moved to the door as if he was thinking about how badly he wanted to go after their lead.
“Let’s go,” she offered. “If we don’t go, we’re missing a chance. Maybe we can find whoever was working and they can give us an ID on whoever this belongs to.”
He looked back down at his phone and then up again, studying her. “You’re supposed to rest. I’m sure Grant is looking into it.”
“Grant is a great guy, and he’s many things, but he’s not the first one I would go to when a lead needs to be investigated.”
In truth, Grant was fine—maybe he was biding his time until he was eligible for retirement, but his heart always seemed to be in the right place. He loved the park, maybe even as much as she did.
She took another sip of the steadily cooling tea and tried to control a pucker as bitterness laced over her tongue. Looking over to her closed bedroom door...if she wasn’t careful, she feared that she would fall into old habits—habits that led too quickly to that bedroom.
He took her cup and set it in the kitchen sink. “Sorry about the tea.”
She laughed. “How about you buy me a cup in Waterton?”
“Why do I have a feeling that this is an argument I’m not going to win?”
Her like for him grew. In her relationship with Travis, he had never pushed her when she’d made up her mind. It was one of the things she had loved about him—his acceptance of her independent nature. But when things had started to go downhill, his love for her independence had turned into hatred of the thing he had sworn he adored. As much as she had tried to compromise and give up a bit of her freedoms, in the end, his possessiveness had only led to irreparable damage.
Maybe things with Casper would be different—then again, who would want to love her? If life had taught her anything, it was that any time she got close, the people she loved fell away. Love, while it started with promises of milk and honey, only ended in immeasurable pain, and pain like that was something she could live without.
* * *
IT WAS A long drive to Waterton and they spent most of it talking about the weather and the mundane events of everyday life—not that Casper minded. It was a nice break from the worry and the guilt he’d felt after the accident. Yet every once in a while he still caught himself looking over at her and making sure that she was all right.
She stared out the window as they drove north on Highway 6 on the Canadian side. Waterton wasn’t much farther, and the closer they got the quieter she had become. “Are you okay?” he asked, hoping pain wasn’t keeping her silent.
“I’m fine,” she answered simply.
“You’re being quiet. Should I be worried?”
She looked at him with a tragic smile. “Actually, I was just thinking about the accident.”
A pang of guilt drove through him. “I’m sorry. Seriously.”
“I know. I don’t blame you at all.” She waved him off. “I was just thinking about the car that came at us. Did Grant find out anything about the other driver?”
He could still see the car’s headlights as it came straight at them, and the tiny “H” emblem at the center of the grille. “The car didn’t stop. And no one has come forward with any information about who the driver was of the Honda. Why?”
“You remember the biker behind us?”
“Yeah.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“You don’t suppose they were working together or something, do you?”
He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, glancing at his hat resting in the middle of the dashboard. “I doubt it. Very few people knew about the accident up by Kootenai. Even fewer knew what we found, and even less knew what we were planning on doing with the evidence.”
She sighed. “I know. But everything about this just feels off. You know?” She looked over at him with her big green eyes. As they caught the light, he could just make out the edges of brown at their center.
Travis had been an idiot for letting her go.
He forced himself to ignore the feelings that rose within him.
Lex was right. Something about this entire series of events was amiss. Though it could have been mostly the woman at his side, the woman who had reawakened his heart, the woman who made him question the man he thought he was, that had him the most confused.
He just needed to focus on the investigation. While he wasn’t sure that she was correct in her conspiracy theory, he had to admit that there was something wrong with the picture.
“We have to look at this objectively, Lex. Right now there is nothing to prove that there was any real criminal act. For all we know, the drugs flew out of the truck and over the side of the cliff, and the car that came at us...well, maybe the driver just wasn’t paying attention.”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You know that’s crap. If the drugs were still on scene, or even near it, Grant would have found them. Someone took them.”
“Okay, let’s say that happened. Then what are they planning on doing with the drugs? Why would someone take such a huge risk in stealing them from a Fed?”
“Someone who thought they wouldn’t get caught,” she said. “Think about it. We’re in an accident in a place that is basically off the grid, there’s little traffic, at least this time of year, and there’s a lot of money to be made.”
They had been a perfect target, Fed or not. “Or it may have been nothing more than an opportunistic theft. Maybe whoever picked these drugs up is sitting in their hotel right now, wondering how they got themselves into such a mess. They know that we’re going to find them. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Don’t you think you’re giving people just a little too much credit in assuming that they feel guilty over this?”
In truth, most days he felt the same way, at least when he’d been deep in the FBI. All he’d seen were the dregs of society. They were everywhere—thieves, con men and murderers. It didn’t matter what age, sex or socioeconomic bracket a person found themselves in; human nature and the filth that
came along with it didn’t change.
Yet what could possibly be behind Lex saying something like that? Who had hurt her so bad that she thought the world was only full of evil?
“All I’m saying is that sooner or later we’re going to track down these drugs,” she continued. “Either someone’s going to talk or the drugs are going to start hitting the streets. If they start moving around Montana, we’ll hear about it from the local law enforcement.”
He cringed at the thought of more agencies joining the chase. It would be a pissing contest in no time and at the center of it all would be him and what some would undoubtedly call his incompetence. “I hope we can figure this problem out long before we get to that point.”
He pulled the car to a stop in front of The Prince and the Pea. The place was definitely a tourist shop, its brightly lit windows filled with everything from books to blankets.
Casper walked around the car to help Lex, but she was standing tall. Aside from the bruise on her cheek, she looked strong—strong enough that she didn’t want or need his help.
He opened the door for her that led into the shop. An elderly man stood behind the counter, sipping on a cup of coffee.
“Hi. Let me know if I can help you with anything,” the man said with a slight Canadian accent.
“Thanks. Actually, I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” Casper reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to flash his badge. “We found some evidence linking a person to this store. We’re just hoping to get any information you may have that can help us.”
The man ran his hand over his gray hair, which sat in a plastered comb-over across his balding dome. “I...sure. I guess.”
Casper pulled up the picture of the receipt on his phone. “We found this. According to the date, it’s from a couple of days ago. Is there anything you can tell me about it?” He set his phone down on the counter so the man could take a look.
“Sure...” The man squinted as he leaned in and studied the details. “Hmm, I was working that day, but you know, we get so many people in and out of these doors throughout the season that it’s hard to keep track from one day to the next.”
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