“He came in for lunch yesterday too. Kind of a drifter—doesn’t seem to have a job or any real direction in life. He’s really nice, though.”
Joni shook her head. “That’s no drifter. He’s wearing some of the most expensive clothes from the general store—how could a drifter afford to dress like that?”
Liz shrugged. “I don’t know. But he was wearing a tie when he was here before. Now that I think about it, he was dressed kind of expensively then, too.”
“So, if he doesn’t have a job, where’s he getting the money for all those nice clothes?”
Liz thought about that while she put his food on a tray. Maybe his daddy was rich and paid all his bills. Liz hated that—if you were going to spend a ton of money, you should earn it yourself. Or maybe he was some sort of crime boss. She liked that idea—he’d flown here from Jersey to avoid some kind of tax thing and was hiding out. She didn’t know what kind of tax thing—she’d have to research—but that would make a great book too.
She delivered his food to the table, flashed him a smile, and moved on to the next table. Her brain wouldn’t stop churning, though, and she thought about it for the next five minutes until she told herself to stop. She had another book to plot, one with a tricky problem to solve.
“Here’s the thing,” she said to Joni, leaning on the kitchen doorframe while Bob prepared the last burger for her order. “I don’t know what to do with the body.”
“Did you try putting it in the dumpster?” Joni asked.
Liz couldn’t even count how many books she’d read lately where the body was put in the dumpster. It was so cliché, and she wanted something different. “It just doesn’t work for me, but I can’t think of what else to do. We’re too far away from the river, so I can’t really throw it in there.”
Joni nodded. “And even if you did, you’d have to weigh it down with something, and what would you use?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know.”
Liz put the hamburger on her tray and turned to leave the kitchen, almost running into Jack, who was standing at the end of the bar right by the kitchen door. “Oh! Sorry. What can I get you?”
He seemed flustered. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I was just thinking that I’d like some pie and was coming to tell you. I should have just waited for you to come back.”
“No problem. Just maybe stand a little farther back next time so I don’t run you flat when I come out.” She delivered the food she was carrying, then cut Jack a generous slice. He was a mystery—that was for sure.
When he came up to the register to pay, she pulled his change from the day before out of her pocket. “I still have this,” she said. “I was going to run it over to the bunkhouse for you, but then I got sidetracked.”
“Don’t you want it?” He looked confused.
“Well, I do, because money’s great and who doesn’t want money?” She laughed. “But really, it was a huge tip. You must have grabbed the wrong bill from your wallet.”
“No, that was the right bill.” He pulled another fifty from his wallet. “And here’s another one.”
He walked off before she could say anything. Why couldn’t more customers be that generous?
***
Jack’s boss was right. He’d been working too hard, he’d been through too much trauma lately, and he needed a vacation. He could have sworn he just heard Liz say that she’d killed someone and needed to dispose of the body.
That was crazy, though. She was a sweet girl, and dang pretty, too. Of course, that didn’t make her innocent, but he just couldn’t picture it. Plus, they were out here in Nowhere, Idaho, where a missing person would stick out like a sore thumb. This wasn’t like Los Angeles, where it was easier for a person to go missing for days without anyone being the wiser.
He walked back to the bunkhouse slowly. He’d fallen asleep right after going clothes shopping the day before and slept clean through the night, exhausted. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours and needed the sleep. But every time he closed his eyes, he remembered that moment, that horrible moment when his partner went down in a hail of gunfire and there wasn’t a thing Jack could do to save him. The shooter was in jail now and would be for a long time, but Jack would never get his partner back, and if this short leave didn’t help him get his head on straight, he didn’t know what he’d do.
He really didn’t want to leave the FBI. Being an agent was all he’d ever wanted for as long as he could remember. His brother would get tired of pretending to be the bad guy so Jack could arrest him and put him in the treehouse “jail” in the backyard. If Jack couldn’t be in law enforcement, what else could he be? He’d never explored any other career options because he was so sure this was it for him.
He unlocked the door to his room, kicked off his shoes, then crossed the floor to the balcony. The sun wouldn’t set for hours yet, but when it did, he wouldn’t miss it—sunset was his favorite. It felt like a giant glimmering curtain being lowered on the day and everything that had happened in it, like the grand finale, and also the signal of a fresh start for the day ahead. Fresh starts . . . just what he needed.
Chapter Three
Liz: I met a guy today.
May: A guy? What kind of guy?
Liz: The kind who would be a great character in a novel.
May: Oh. I thought you meant like, a smoochy kind of guy.
Liz: He could be smoochy. I mean, he’s really good-looking. But I don’t know enough about him.
Kaya: You have to know something about a guy before he can be smoochy?
Liz: There’s a difference between thinking he’s smoochy and then actually smooching him. You know?
May: Yeah, I know. So, what about this guy? Are you going to put him in a book?
Liz: I might. But I need to figure out his story. He says he’s between jobs, but he dresses really nice. I think he’s a criminal or something.
Kaya: Because only criminals wear nice clothes?
Liz: No, of course not. It’s just, who has money for nice clothes when they don’t have a job?
May: Maybe he bought the clothes and then lost his job.
Liz. Maybe. That’s sort of disappointing, though. Not very exciting.
Kaya: So … are you going to investigate him or something? It’s like I can feel the wheels in your head turning.
Liz: I might. I asked at the bunkhouse, and he’s checked in for a couple of days at least. I should have time to get to know him a little bit.
May: The bunkhouse . . . that sounds so awesome. The bunkhouse and the lake and the river … every time you talk about where you live, I want to come out there.
Liz: You should! You totally should.
Kaya: So … I hate to interrupt because this guy sounds awesome, but I’ve really got to finish this chapter.
Liz: Oh, sorry. I knew you had a deadline, and I’m over here blabbing.
Kaya: It’s all right. Let’s go—I challenge you to hit two thousand words in the next hour.
Liz grinned as she opened up her document and started to write. She loved these online friends of hers—they encouraged her to do better and reach higher than she’d ever dream of on her own. These late-night writing sessions had helped her be more productive than anything she’d tried before.
She only managed to write a thousand words before her eyes got too heavy to stay open. She didn’t like the way overtime cut into her writing, but this was temporary. Just until she could support herself with her books.
The next morning, Liz pulled herself out of her bed and stretched. She had the breakfast shift, which really stunk, but then she had the rest of the day and the next day off. She was going to relax—she’d get a massage at the spa, she’d take some long naps, and she’d write. Maybe she could figure out how to dispose of that body, and then a really clever way for the detective to find it.
“Morning,” she called out as she entered the diner. Bob looked up from the stove and waved.
“Morning,” Kel
si replied from behind the register. Liz didn’t envy her the job of setting up and cleaning out the cash drawer every day—she used to do that while working retail, and she didn’t miss it at all.
Liz tied on her apron, made sure the coffee had been started, and then turned to greet her first customer as the bell over the door jingled.
“Jack,” she said as he walked up to the counter. “How’s it going?”
“Good.” He took a seat on one of the barstools. “This really is a beautiful place. Gwen gave me a room with a balcony, and I must have sat out there for half an hour this morning. I thought I liked sunsets best, but I don’t know—Idaho might convert me to sunrises.”
“It is gorgeous here—I won’t argue that.” Liz pulled out her order pad. “What can I get you for breakfast? I have to tell you, though—I’m not accepting tips today.”
“No tips? None whatsoever?”
“None whatsoever. It’s the tradition of my people and it’s all tied in to the solstice and stuff—we accept no additional money for any reason.”
His lips twitched. “That’s an interesting tradition your people have.”
“Yes. It comes from our ancient Lithuanian ancestors. Or something. Anyway, no tips.”
“I’ll remember that. I wouldn’t want to offend your great-great-great-Lithuanian grandmother.”
“Thank you. She appreciates that. Now, breakfast?”
“What’s good?”
“Everything, of course! But my favorite is the Sunrise Special.” She nodded to the whiteboard on the wall, where that day’s specials were written out in purple marker. “You get two pancakes, a nice big serving of hash browns—Idaho potatoes, of course—four slices of bacon, two links of sausage, and orange juice.”
“Sounds good. Sign me up.”
Liz made a note and then moved to the back to place her order.
“He’s here again?” Joni craned her neck from where she was bringing things out of the walk-in freezer. “You said he’s eaten here twice already. He knows we have a restaurant too, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sure he does.”
“Well, maybe he keeps coming in here because he likes the company.” Joni nudged Liz with her elbow as she went past.
“Oh, come on. I doubt that’s it.” Liz couldn’t help the warmth that came to her cheeks at the thought. How long had it been since a guy had paid attention to her? Real attention, not just waving her down for a coffee refill? It must have been about a year. Around the time when she decided that writing was her real passion and that she was going to pursue that dream regardless of the price. Maybe there was a connection—maybe she put off some kind of vibe that she wasn’t ready to get into a relationship.
She was thinking about that as she carried Jack’s food out to the counter. He’d picked up a newspaper from the stand in the corner and seemed engrossed in an article, but as soon as she set the food down, he set the paper aside and focused on her.
“So, are you here all the time?” he asked, twirling his finger to indicate the diner.
“I usually take about four shifts a week. You caught me on a special day yesterday—someone called in sick, so I stayed a little late.”
“You mind that?”
“Not really. The thing is, we’re kind of a big family here. The place is owned by the Westons and run by their six kids, and when you hire on here, it’s like you become one of the siblings. Or a cousin, at least. I don’t mind helping out.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It really is.” She glanced over at the door as more customers came in. “Well, eat up, and let me know if you need anything.”
She kept an eye on Jack as he ate. He didn’t seem in any particular hurry as he sipped his juice and turned the pages of his newspaper. He wore another outfit from the general store—Heidi did a good job of ordering in a variety of stock, but it was all still pretty distinctive, and since Liz was in the store a few times a week picking up snacks and whatnot, she was familiar with everything in there. Hmm. Yeah, she’d have to see what she could find out about this guy.
***
Jack paid his bill, showed his respect to Liz’s Lithuanian ancestors by not leaving her a tip, then went outside. The map of the ranch said he could rent a four-wheeler over that way, so that’s where he headed. He wanted to explore on his own terms, and a four-wheeler seemed like the best way to go about it.
He signed the rental paperwork, climbed on, and shot out of the machine’s assigned parking spot like he was on fire. It had obviously been several years since he’d ridden, and he eased up on the throttle before he took out a fence or something.
As he got out onto the road and started looking around, he was pretty impressed. This place did seem to have just about everything. He wouldn’t mind trying his hand at rock climbing—if he was here that long. He hadn’t decided yet. The problem with getting in your car and just driving is that you don’t know when you’ve reached your destination because you have no idea what your destination is.
He was lost in thought as he rounded the corner, and he cringed as the front wheel of his bike crunched into a large garden gnome that stood on the edge of the RV park property. He cut the engine and hopped off, hoping he could somehow repair the damage to the gnome.
“Well, hold your horses, would ya now?” An older woman bustled toward him, a rabbit tucked under her arm. He did a double take. That’s right—a rabbit was tucked under her arm. “No need to go tearing around here like you’ve got BenGay in your shorts.”
“I . . . beg your pardon?”
She waved him off. “You’re probably too young to know what BenGay is. But let me tell you, when you get older, be careful not to get any in your shorts.” She had a faint accent—Irish, maybe—that lent her a kind of charm on top of her obvious sense of humor.
“All right. Point taken.” He nodded toward the ground. “I’ve knocked over your sentinel here. Let me put him to rights, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“No, you won’t,” she said, moving the rabbit to her other arm. “The fairies said you’ve come here looking for some answers, and I’m here to give them to you.”
“The fairies?”
“That’s right. Or don’t you believe in fairies? Don’t tell me you’re one of them.”
She didn’t elaborate on what it meant to be one of them, but Jack could guess that it was a very unpleasant thing indeed. Rather than trying to come up with an answer, he bent over, grabbed the gnome, and wrestled it back into position. Thankfully, it wasn’t chipped or otherwise damaged. He hadn’t seen any replacement gnomes in the general store.
“That’s Rufus,” she said, pointing to the statue, “and you’re right when you call him a sentinel. He stands guard over the property from that direction. Now, there’s Cletus on the other side, but he doesn’t do nearly as good of a job.”
“He doesn’t?” Jack glanced over that way to see a statue nearly the twin of Rufus, but facing the other way.
The woman leaned in and whispered. “Last Halloween, he let some children on the property who weren’t wearing costumes.”
“Mmm.” Jack had no reply to that.
The woman held out her hand. “I’m Jaclyn. I’ve been here . . . well, we don’t need to get into that, and you don’t need to be so nosy. Come inside and have a cookie, and tell me what’s bothering you. I don’t have all the answers, but the fairies do, and what they don’t know isn’t worth knowing.”
It took Jack a second to unravel that, but Jaclyn didn’t seem to be expecting a reply. Instead, she led the way into her house, and motioned for Jack to take a seat. He did, but he had to move two more rabbits from the chair before he could.
“Have a cookie.” She shoved a plate at him. “Now, tell me. What’s on your mind?”
Jack didn’t know how to reply to that. This woman really had a way of throwing out questions, didn’t she? Instead, he changed the subject. “It’s quite a coincidence that your name is Jaclyn. I’m Jack.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Uh, what do you mean? I’m not adopted.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just always wanted to say that to someone. So, Jack, you’re here in search of yourself, are you?”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, you’re not married, for one. No ring, no ring tan line. Any man who’s not married must be looking for himself because if he’d found himself, he’d be married.”
“I don’t understand. How does finding myself lead to me getting married?”
She gave him an overly patient look. “Because falling in love is like finding the other half of yourself. And when you fall in love, you get married. Gracious, do I have to tell you everything?”
“No, I guess not.” He took a bite of his cookie. He needed sugar in his brain or he’d never survive this conversation.
“So, you’re here on a quest for self. I highly recommend the Western Wonder over at the diner.”
“Will it help me find myself?”
She gave him another of those looks. “No, but it’s delicious.”
“Okay. I already had one, and I agree.”
She sat back, looking pleased. “Then you know what I’m talking about.”
Not even a little bit. “I do. And I met a girl over there—one of the waitresses.”
“Caught your eye, did she?”
He had no idea how to explain to this woman that he was conducting an informal murder investigation, so he said, “Yes.”
Suddenly, Jaclyn’s hand came down hard on the arm of her chair. “Well, you can’t have her!”
Jack started. “I . . . I can’t?”
“No, you can’t! She’s the sheriff’s wife, and trust me, you don’t want to get yourself on the wrong side of that man’s gun. He would shoot you dead as soon as look at you if he knew you were speculating on Kelsi.”
“Kelsi?”
“His wife! Gracious, young man, I feel like I’m having to lead you around with a rope through the ring in your nose. Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Accidental Agent (River's End Ranch Book 3) Page 2