Heath ran his fingers over his jaw. “Some people are suggesting I should question a man named Fletcher Snowden Phillips.”
Josie rolled her eyes. “Fletcher’s a pain, but I doubt he’d do anything illegal. Besides, this isn’t what I wanted to talk about—you were always here for your dad’s case. If you solve it, will you leave?”
Did she want him gone? “Do you want me to?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He came beside her. “I’m more interested in that answer, though.”
“You’re a pest.” She looked up and shook her head, but she lacked the smile that usually completed the gesture. “You know that, right?”
“I believe you told me so on the first day we met,” he added softly.
“My opinion of you hasn’t changed, then.”
For a man who specialized in reading conversations and directing them so he got the answers he needed, Heath was having a hard time knowing the right words to say. Josie seemed to want to steer all talk away from where he’d been headed. She didn’t want a relationship with him, did she? They could tease each other, they could help each other, but she was putting a stop on any paths toward romance. Every time he hinted at caring about her, she brought up the fact that he was leaving soon. As if she wanted to constantly remind him that there was no hope for them as a couple.
Fine. He was man enough to respect that. His heart wouldn’t, but he could keep his distance, for her sake.
Heath worked his jaw back and forth. Took a deep breath. “I’ll consider that a good thing, then. At least your opinion of me hasn’t gotten worse. So there’s that.”
“How long, Heath?” She faced him. “How long will you actually be around?”
What do you want? Just say what you want. Give me a clue. He searched her face.
His phone rang. He automatically yanked it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Finn. It would be news about Dad’s case. He looked back at Josie.
She sighed and batted her hand. “Take the call. That’s what you’re here for. Take it.”
He hesitated, but pressed Accept. “You got news?”
“Better than news. I think I found our guy.”
When he hung up, Josie was already halfway up the walk to the ranch house.
Chapter Twelve
A hard wind shoved against Heath’s door as he stepped out of his truck and scanned the parking lot at the McLennan County Jail facility for Finn. The building, with its tan stonework, stood like a sentry, tall, cold and imposing.
So this was it.
Finn waited near the front of the entrance used by law enforcement. He’d set up a meeting with an inmate by the name of Kane Grubbs. Heath had glanced over Grubbs’s arrest record. The man was serving time for a string of both financial and physical crimes. His original arrest dated back to the week after Heath’s father was murdered. Each time Grubbs was released, he committed another crime and quickly returned to prison. During his latest arrest, he’d battered an officer and removed his weapon during the altercation—not something authorities took lightly.
In the past twenty-four hours, Finn had poked around for more information and everything he’d learned pointed to Grubbs being their man. It turned out Grubbs had worked at the boys ranch off and on during the time that Heath’s father was murdered; he’d spearheaded the renovations to the barn and insisted on doing the construction work on his own for free.
Finn had his smartphone pressed to his ear and his voice carried. “That sounds good for tonight. I shouldn’t be long. I love you, too.”
Heath hung back until Finn was done, but when he overheard his coworker’s conversation, Heath couldn’t help thinking about Josie again. It would be nice to be able to talk openly with that woman, but Finn and Amelia were married, vowed to each other, so they had the right. Heath didn’t.
Maybe it was for the best that Heath told himself long ago that he’d never get involved with a woman because of his job. Better that way. Because women and love were more confusing than any case he’d ever worked. He wasn’t cut out for romance.
Finn stowed his phone. “You ready?”
Nope. Not for the interview or for Josie.
Heath stayed rooted in his spot. “Before we go in, can I...ah...can I ask you a personal question?”
Finn stretched his back, making his shoulders pop. “If it was my father, I’d want to know.”
“It’s not about the case.” Heath almost lost the nerve to ask him, but he had to. No telling how much time would pass before he had another opportunity to ask a married lawman for relationship advice.
“Sure...go ahead and ask.”
“Even with our job being as dangerous as it is, you were married before—and chose to marry again.” Heath rested his hands on the edge of his bulky Ranger belt. “I guess I wonder why. Each day we walk into situations we might not walk out of. Why take the risk?”
Finn’s chest lifted with a huge breath. He looked off at the clouds for so long, Heath began to wonder if he’d answer him at all. Were his questions offensive?
“I lost my first wife and my daughter,” Finn said. “That was... Going through that is unimaginable and it’s impossible to explain that kind of pain.” Finn held up his hand. “But I don’t regret having loved them for a second. They’re gone and I—with the dangerous job, as you put it—am the one who was left behind.”
“But level with me.” Heath pushed the issue—he needed a solid answer. Something to help order his thoughts. “It crosses our mind every time we rush into a warehouse with our guns out. What-ifs are there for all of us, but I have to imagine that a married man has double the what-ifs to consider than someone like me.”
“You’re not wrong, but the real question is—are the what-ifs worth it to you? A married man and a man with children carry much more into a battle, but if you think about it, they’re also fighting for something greater, too.” Finn frowned a little. “Do you trust God, Heath? Do you believe He has a hold on your life and cares about the people you love?”
“I...I want to trust God like that.”
“If Amelia and I get one more day together or sixty more years, we’ll treat each one as a gift. Because we’re not guaranteed tomorrow in this life, Heath. And that’s true no matter if you’re a butcher or a baker or a rancher or a Texas Ranger.” In an uncharacteristic move, Finn rested his hand on Heath’s shoulder. “I’ll say this and then leave it be—if you love someone, do something about it. Today. Having that love today is worth the risk of having it ripped away tomorrow. I promise you that.”
* * *
On the way back to the ranch, Josie would buy a cupcake for Katie at the bakery in town to thank her for the use of her car.
Josie parked on the edge of the path. That was the thing about cemeteries, they didn’t have parking spots. People weren’t meant to stay long.
Pastor Walsh had advised her to go to Dale’s grave site and make peace with his death. He instructed her to talk out loud if she needed to. And to pray.
It would be her third visit since the funeral, but that day rushed back all at once. Bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace,” the entire sheriff’s department saluting in their dress blues, huge displays of fresh flowers crowding the funeral home—the smell of the bouquets mixing with everyone’s over-applied perfumes.
Why did people feel the need to wear perfume or cologne to a funeral? Who were they worried about impressing? The deceased didn’t care how they smelled and the family wouldn’t even notice. Josie shook her head.
She could still feel all the hugs and hear the whispered I’m sorry for your loss from strangers who would never speak to her again or be there with her as she tried to piece her life back together. She could still hear the final call for Dale’s badge number over the loudspeaker, a call that would forev
er go unanswered—a law-enforcement tradition.
On shaky legs, she stepped out of the car and headed toward Dale’s headstone. Josie stopped a few feet away and crossed her arms. It felt futile, coming to speak to a grave, but she knew she needed to get the words out. If she didn’t process everything she’d been feeling over the past six months, she’d never be able to move on. And Josie wanted to be able to do that—move on—desperately. For her child’s sake, if not her own.
“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say right now.” She traced her fingers up and down her arms, but it only left her feeling colder. “I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a child.”
Josie took another step closer. “Actually, I do have something to say. I’m mad at you. I’m as mad at you today as I would be if you were standing here alive.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m mad because you wanted to leave me. Because I wasn’t enough for you.”
Her throat caught with tears and she couldn’t see through the blur in her eyes anymore. “I’m mad that you didn’t love me enough to stay even if we were never going to have a child. You never believed in me—never encouraged my dreams. How hard would that have been?”
She took another step closer, her words tumbling out faster. “I’m furious about the financial situation you left me in. Why were you gambling? What were you trying to prove by racking up so much debt? Why didn’t you pay our taxes? I trusted you to do that. You were an officer! Not paying taxes is illegal.”
Her chest ached. It was best not to ask questions. She’d never get the answers she wanted. “But I’m also mad that you died. I’m mad that you’re gone and I’m alone. I’m mad I didn’t get to see if we could have saved our marriage.”
Her arms were shaking now. Her voice, too. “But now I’m done being mad.” She swiped at her cheeks. “For the past six months, I’ve carried around guilt—as if I was to blame for you leaving. As if I should be ashamed for not being enough for you.” Her voice broke on a sob. “But you know what? Leaving was your choice. Not mine. You promised to love and cherish me forever, but instead you gave up. I won’t blame myself for that anymore. I am not responsible for carrying your mistakes.”
Josie rested her head in her hands and took a few breaths. While she did not regret the years she was married to him, she’d come to the realization that Dale had made all the choices in their life—in her life. Forgiving Dale was the final step to no longer being controlled by him.
“You were my husband—my first love—and I miss you,” Josie whispered. “I forgive you for giving up on us. I forgive you for everything.”
Feeling light-headed, she staggered back to the car and dropped into the driver’s seat. If she wasn’t pregnant, she would have stayed and prayed at the grave site, but getting up from the ground was difficult.
“God,” Josie prayed as she rested her head on the steering wheel. “Renew my heart and my spirit. I feel like I’ve been an old, threadbare version of the woman I’m supposed to be for a long time. I’ve been running on spiritual fumes, and I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to be full of Your love and joy. I want people to meet me and automatically see You in how I act and speak. I don’t know what my next step is, but I know You do. Guide me? Show me what to do where Heath is concerned. I’m afraid to be a mother alone, but if that’s Your will for me, I know You’ll equip me for the task. No matter what I’ve walked through or who has left me, I know You’ve always been there. Thank You, Jesus. Amen.”
Josie turned the key and headed toward town.
Even with forgiveness, many of Dale’s bad choices still affected Josie’s life. But she was no longer going to allow the wrong he’d done to have power over her.
She gripped the wheel tighter as light rain started to patter against the windshield.
Now Josie was in charge of the choices in her life—which also meant that she would be to blame if she made the wrong decisions. What was she going to do about Heath? She hadn’t wanted to be involved with a man in law enforcement again, but whether or not they admitted to it, weren’t they already involved? She looked forward to every minute spent in his company. But what if those minutes ended tomorrow because of his job? She had to think of her baby. Her baby needed a father who would be there to dance at his or her wedding, to hold grandchildren.
Then again... What if—like Dale—Josie was walking away from someone without realizing the life and joy that was already growing between them?
* * *
No matter where Heath traveled, every prison was the same.
Poured-concrete floors made footfalls sound hollow. There was the constant shriek of metal grating against metal and the smell of stale, humid recirculated air. Finn was ahead of him, talking with one of the guards as they passed down a long corridor on the way to the interview room. A strong bleach smell did very little to cover up a lingering trace of grease, dirty mop water and, oddly, an overwhelming scent of corn chips that permeated the space.
The guard showed them into the interview room. “I’ll get Grubbs.”
Finn joined Heath at the steel table in the center of the area. “Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t think not being ready is an option.”
A buzzer sounded, letting them know the guards were bringing in a prisoner. The door opened and Heath looked up—meeting the eyes of the man who most likely killed his father, or at least knew who killed him.
Over the years, Heath had wondered how he’d react if he ever found the murderer. He thought he’d feel rage. He thought he would want to slam the guy against a wall.
But it was pity drying the back of his throat, making it difficult to swallow.
Thin, bald and pale, Kane Grubbs needed a guard on either side of him, holding his arms, to help him shuffle in. The prison-issued jumpsuit, which looked like it was the smallest size they probably offered, hung off his body. One of the guards wheeled an IV unit beside Grubbs, and a woman wearing scrubs filed into the room.
Heath glanced over at Finn, but his face remained unreadable.
Grubbs slowly eased into the seat across from them. His shoulders shuddered violently as he hacked a few times. Heath studied him, trying to place his age. Grubbs wheezed in a breath, folded his hands on the table and then looked up at Heath. The whites of his eyes had a yellow tint to them.
“I know why you’re here.” He coughed again.
Finn nodded and pulled paperwork out of his manila folder. He read Grubbs his Miranda rights and then slid the sheet across the table. “Please initial each line and sign at the bottom, saying you understand. Also, I need to remind you that this room is being both video and audio recorded at all times.”
Grubbs nodded by a fraction and signed the sheet. Then he looked back at Heath. “You look just like him. Your pa.”
Heath’s heart pounded as loud as a metronome. He opened his mouth. Closed it. “You... Did you know my father?”
The prisoner cradled his arms together. His chair creaked loudly as he rocked back and forth. “If you can’t tell, I’m dying. Stage four. They say the cancer’s everywhere. Two months left, if that. Being that I’m here, it could be tomorrow.”
Heath’s stomach rolled. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you, now? We’ll see if that sticks.” Grubbs stopped rocking. For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the tick of his IV. “I have nothing to hide. Death on your back will do that to a body. I know you look like your pa because I was the last one to see him. I pulled the trigger. I killed him. If you located my hiding spot, you’ll find my fingerprints on the gun.”
Although Heath had suspected as much, hearing it confirmed ripped through him with a sharp, physical pain. He hunched his shoulders and shoved his fist against his chest.
“Why? He had two children. I was fifteen.” His tone wasn’t professional, but tha
t was because the Texas Ranger wasn’t talking; the boy who’d lost his hero was.
Grubbs flattened his hands on the surface of the cold metal table. “He got in the way of my lucrative business. It’s as simple and complicated as that.”
Finn cleared his throat. “Heath? A minute, please?” He motioned toward the doors and told the guards he’d be back shortly.
Legs trembling and heart blasting in his ears, Heath followed Finn out into the hallway. The second the door closed, Finn faced him. “This was a bad idea. Your being here. I’m going to get his written confession and finish the interview. I want you to be done with this case.”
Heath’s back hit the wall as his knees went wobbly. He bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What does it matter? We’re too late. The man’s dying. It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“You may not get retribution, but having an answer means closure. We’ll change the cold-case label to Case Closed. That matters.”
“The man’s body is killing itself.” Heath slammed his eyes shut and tipped his head back. He would not cry in the middle of a prison. “I don’t need retribution. I just... I want to be done.”
“And you are. I’ll take it from here. I promise to treat this case as if it was my own family.” Finn reached for the door handle, but then hesitated. “Are you all right to drive?”
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
“Your father would be proud.”
Not trusting his voice, Heath simply nodded. Finn headed back into the interview room, leaving Heath to slide down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.
It was done. He was done searching. Done making decisions for his life based on what happened to his father. Done living in fear, because if he was being honest, that was what most of his problems had been rooted in. Fear that he would never measure up to the man his father was. Fear that he’d never solve the case. Fear that his life didn’t matter. Fear that he’d die, too. Fear that no one would miss him.
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