It didn’t take long to locate Terrence. He was the only one not dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt with pea-sized black buttons. He was older than I thought he’d be, possibly in his late thirties, or early forties, and he had a silly-looking mustache that curled slightly upward at the ends. It was very Doc Holliday-esque, but this wasn’t Tombstone, and Terrence was no Val Kilmer. Not even close.
Terrence glanced in my direction, just before the scene unfolding behind me demanded his attention. I turned, expecting to see a young woman in an ill-fitted dress, but noticed an overturned glass of beer instead, and two men too liquored up to notice. The men laughed while the contents of the beer continued to gush onto the floor, narrowly missing an older woman’s nylon stocking at the next table over. The woman threw down her napkin, expressing her disdain to the man sitting next to her. Just as her companion was about to stand, Terrence brushed past me, his shoulder pushing me aside in the process.
“Buck, it’s time for you and Hal to go,” Terrence said. “I’ll call you a cab.”
Terrence snapped his fingers, and a woman appeared, towel in hand.
One of the men attempted to stand. He rested his hand on Terrence’s shoulder, pausing for a moment to look at the now empty glass of beer like he wasn’t sure how it got that way. “Aww, hell, Terrence—it was an accident. Give me the cloth; I’ll clean it for ya.”
Terrence looked at the girl holding the towel. “Call a cab for these two gentlemen, then clean this table off.”
She acknowledged him with a nod, turned, and went.
Some time passed before the men relented, finally realizing they couldn’t talk their way out of this one. Once they were secured inside a cab, Terrence turned his attention to me. “I’m sorry. Show’s over.”
“Good thing it wasn’t what I was here for then,” I said.
“Did you need something?”
“When do you get off?” I said.
“Ma’am, I’m married.”
“And I’m not interested.”
He raised a brow.
“Oh, I thought—”
“Wrong.”
He leaned against the counter as if he was trying to discover what I was after.
“Now I feel like a horse’s ass. Can I get you anything?”
I nodded.
“Your time,” I said. “Ten minutes if you can spare it.”
His confusion amplified, but keeping him in suspense was getting me somewhere, so I stuck with it.
“I don’t get off for another forty-five minutes.”
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll wait.”
Terrence met me in the parking lot an hour later.
“What’s this all about?”
“Olivia,” I said.
He rolled his eyes so far back into his head I wasn’t sure whether they’d make it back out. “Figures.”
“Is that why you didn’t press me earlier?” I said.
“It was obvious—plus, you fit the part.”
“What part?”
“You’re an FBI agent, aren’t you?”
I laughed.
“Private investigator,” I said.
“Private as in hired by someone?”
I nodded.
“And no, it wasn’t by your wife,” I said.
He turned his head away from me and spit. “I’m tired. Ask your questions. You got five minutes.”
“Aren’t you interested in who hired me?” I said.
“The only thing I care about right now is getting some sleep. Understand?”
A drop of water splashed on my eyelid and then another one hit my cheek. I looked up at the thick, grey clouds above me.
At some point, Terrence must have noticed the grumbling sky too. He frowned. “Better get on with it.”
“Why didn’t you like your stepdaughter?” I said.
He shrugged.
“It wasn’t her I had a problem with. I don’t like kids. Never have. That all?”
“At least you’re honest,” I said.
“I’ve got nothing to hide. If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you. Three minutes.”
I wondered what he’d do if our conversation went into overtime. Part of me thought it would be fun to find out.
“Why marry Kris if you didn’t like kids?” I said.
He turned one of his hands up as if to say I don’t know.
“As soon as we met, I knew Kris was the right woman for me. The kid was part of the package. Not much I could do about it. I figured we’d get married, work it all out later.”
“Did you ever consider trying to have a relationship with her?”
“The kid?—why? She made it harder for us to, well, do things together. Having her around wasn’t very convenient, but what else was I gonna do?”
Jealousy, thy name be Terrence.
“To be honest,” he continued, “when the kid went missing, it was kind of a—”
“A what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Your time’s up.”
He hopped in his coupe and shut the door without saying another word. I grabbed the door handle and yanked the door open again.
“What the hell, lady? We’re finished.”
“I don’t understand how Kris could be married to someone like you. I mean, sure, you seem all professional and in charge at work, but your lack of sympathy for what happened to Olivia amazes me. It almost sounds like you wanted to get rid of her.”
Terrence shook his head and smirked. “Those two old crows have been chirping in your ear, haven’t they? I was questioned before you came, and I’m sure I’ll be questioned again. Difference is—it won’t be by you.”
CHAPTER 14
I wanted to believe there was a special place in hell for men like Terrence. It baffled me how any woman with a child allowed herself to be with a man like him. Kris’s self-worth must have plummeted to an all-time low the moment she considered him a decent catch. It saddened and sickened me at the same time, because she knew Terrence never cared about Olivia. Even a woman blinded by love couldn’t have missed it. Terrence was a straight-shooter. Kris was desperate. And little Olivia suffered for it. I imagined she spent many nights alone in her room, desperate for attention.
Against my better judgment, I let Maddie choose the restaurant when we reached Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It was late, and I was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but since Maddie was all hopped up on Red Bull, a quiet evening wasn’t likely.
After passing two bar and grills and using my behind-the-wheel power of veto, I finally caved when we passed the third dining establishment. My stomach was uneasy, and in need of some form of nourishment. I hoped the place offered some decent sustenance, or we’d be back in the car trying again.
When we walked in and I looked around, I wondered why they hadn’t just called the place a bar; I didn’t see any evidence of a grill anywhere. There were no double doors suggesting a cooking area in the back, and the closest thing to food on a table was a plastic basket of fries accompanied by a green-colored dipping sauce. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but it was too late—Maddie was already on the dance floor whooping it up with a swarm of men who approved of her trashy Wyoming style.
I took a seat at the corner of the bar, trying to fade into the shadows around me. It worked for a few minutes.
A frizzy-haired brunette approached me from behind the bar. “What’ll you have to drink?”
“Do you have a menu?”
“I mean to drink, hun?”
“Water.”
She snickered, reached under the bar, and slid a laminated, one-sided menu in my direction. I scanned the front side for a viable option, but it didn’t matter what I chose. All the items on the menu were dipped in grease and served with a heaping side of grease. Double greasy. I could hardly wait.
Maddie plopped down on the seat next to me, pulled an elastic band off her wrist, and wrapped it around her hair. “C’mon, don’t just sit there. Wake up! Let’s dance.”
“Not tonight,” I said. “I’m too tired.”
I expected a witty comeback, but she said nothing, and when I followed her line of sight, I knew why. A tall, well-built man had entered the bar and sat down on the opposite end. He looked like he’d just stepped off Brad Paisley’s tour bus in his fringed button-up shirt, tight Wranglers, black boots and matching cowboy hat. But it was his shiny, oversized steer belt buckle that held my attention the most. The horns stuck out so far they could have caused a passerby permanent damage.
Maddie had her eye on a new dance partner.
“Do you mind?” she said.
I smiled.
“Go.”
She patted me on the leg. “Be right back.”
She hopped off the stool, pulled the rubber band back out, and fluffed her hair with her fingers. She reached Brad Paisley Guy, and a conversation ensued. Strange, but he wasn’t looking at her while he was talking—he was staring at me—or at least trying to over the dim-lit lights in the room. Maddie said something, and when he replied, she spun around on her heel and huffed all the way back over to me.
“What did he say?” I said.
“Maybe later.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?” I said.
“He actually said ‘maybe later.’”
“At least it wasn’t a no, right?”
But we both knew it was. And Maddie wasn’t used to rejection. In an act of defiance, and to increase her no-guy-can-resist-me points, Maddie turned to the man sitting to her left and smiled. He wasted no time buying her a drink.
Brad Paisley Guy approached the DJ, striking up a conversation. They talked for a minute, and then the DJ nodded. The next song started. It was some flip-your-partner-dosey-do kind of thing. I’d never understood the fascination with country dancing and all its flinging and twirling. Maybe it was because I’d never tried it before—I’d never been interested.
“Was you planning on dancing tonight?” a husky voice said.
I turned around, coming face to face with Brad Paisley Guy. “You mean were you?”
He held his hand up to his ear like he couldn’t hear me. “Sorry, what? It’s a little loud in here.”
“You just said ‘was’ instead of ‘were.’” I suddenly felt stupid for pointing it out like I was the bar’s grammar police. It didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ever see him again.
Brad Paisley Guy rolled the toothpick dangling from his lips from one corner of his mouth to the other and squinted. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Maybe I am—how would you know?”
He took his time looking me up and down like he wanted me to know it. “Nope, you’re definitely not a country girl.”
His tone didn’t seem offensive, but it bothered me anyway.
“Did you want something?” I said
“I’m Cade,” he said, tipping his hat forward. “What’s your name?”
I pointed to Maddie who was engrossed in her conversation with the man who’d bought her the drink, even though I knew her gift of “ear extend” was on high alert. “That’s Maddie.”
He laughed. “I meant your name.”
“I know what you meant,” I said. “Do you have a last name?”
The side of his lip curled up into a smile and he winked. “Sure do. Do you answer everything with a question?”
Before I could say anything else, he placed his hands on my waist, lifted me out of the chair, and dragged me onto the dance floor.
“I don’t do this,” I said. “Please, don’t—”
I tried to back away, but he grabbed my hands, pulling me in until we were so close I could feel his hot, minty breath on my cheek.
“You don’t do what, dance?”
“Not country,” I said.
He laughed and released one of his hands, wrapping it around my waist. Over the next few minutes I felt like I was sitting in an oversized teacup at a theme park—the kind of ride where at least one person usually threw up before it was over. My body flipped, dipped, and whipped into positions I didn’t even know were still possible.
The song ended with me in the dipped position, my head about three inches from the floor. Cade held me there for a few moments, staring into my eyes, but saying nothing.
“Were you going to let me go at some point?” I said.
“Yeah, sorry.”
He stood me upright but didn’t let go.
“Can I have my hand back too?” I said.
He released me and walked away without saying another word.
What just happened? And why is he walking off? Is it a country/western thing? I didn’t know.
“Umm, I think he likes you,” Maddie said when I returned to my seat.
“It was one dance,” I said, holding up a finger. “Besides, I’m dating Giovanni, and I don’t even know the guy.”
Maddie nudged me with her shoulder. “He’s still looking at you.”
I didn’t dare look over. “Can we please leave now? I’ve had enough.”
She frowned but took pity on me. A minute later, we were back in the parking lot as if the last hour had never happened.
I said something to Maddie, but she didn’t hear me.
“Maddie, are you listening?” I said.
“What? Yeah.”
“No, you’re not. What are you looking at?”
She pointed to a truck parked under a lamppost. “Nice wheels,” Maddie said. “I could see myself with the guy who drives that.”
“What are you looking…”
I looked over. It couldn’t be—but it was. A truck. A shiny, black Dodge Ram with a grille in the front and Cade gripping the door handle, about to jump inside.
CHAPTER 15
Rage consumed me. Cade whatever-his-last-name-was, had been following me. I wanted to yell—scratch that—I wanted to scream, but when my mouth opened, all I could manage was, “You,” followed by my pointer finger swirling around in the air like a dagger while I continued to shout, “You—you—you—you—you!”
Cade released the door handle and held his hands up, surrendering to my finger dagger. “Now hold on just a minute, Sloane. Let me explain, okay?”
“No, you hold on! You think you can walk up to me in some bar pretending you’ve never seen me before in your life, and that’s okay?! Why did you ask for my name if you already knew it?”
He smoothed a bit of dirt around with the toe of his boot, like he thought moving a bit of dust would help him decide what to say next. Or not to say.
“You’ve been following me,” I said. “I want to know why.”
When he didn’t respond, Maddie walked over and stood next to me, hands on hips. She had no idea what was going on, but it didn’t matter. “Sloane asked you a question—I suggest you answer it.”
He looked at the two of us like he found the whole thing amusing. “And if I don’t?”I placed both hands on the door of his truck, slamming it shut. “You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
Cade glanced at me and then at Maddie and laughed so hard I thought the toothpick in his mouth would come shooting out. He grabbed it with his hand, flinging it to the ground.
“What’s so funny?” I said.
He tossed his hat through the open window of the truck and tipped his head to the side. “You’re a lot feistier when you’re not on the dance floor. A lot more confident, too.”
Maddie and I crossed our arms in synchronized motion and remained silent.
“All right, ladies,” he said. “The name’s Cade McCoy. Satisfied?”
McCoy? The last name was familiar, but it took me a moment to place it. “As in Walter McCoy, the lead detective in Savannah Tate’s case? Are you related?”
He nodded.
“Walter is my dad.”
“Is he having you follow me?”
Maddie had a look on her face like she was the only one who hadn’t received an invitation to Cade’s coming out party. “He’s been following you?” She turned to m
e. “You’ve been following her? Someone tell me what’s going on.”
“Not exactly,” Cade said.
“Then what exactly?” I said.
“I’m helping my dad.”
“Don’t you need permission?”
“I got it. The chief and my dad go way back.”
“I didn’t know stalking me was part of the job description,” I said.
“Now hold on. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”
“You didn’t.”
Maddie crossed one leg over the other, uncrossed them, and crossed them back again, something she always did when she needed to use the ladies’ room.
“Go,” I said to her.
“Oh no. I’m not leaving you alone with this—”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “But you won’t be. Now go.”
Once Maddie was out of earshot, Cade said, “I need your help. Tate won’t talk to me. My dad says he’s been actin’ weird lately, like somethin’s going on, but he can’t get anything out of him.”
“What makes you think I can help you?” I said.
“A couple days ago, you met with Tate. He handed you money.”
“What you saw was an envelope, nothing more.”
He shook his head.
“Do you really think you can bullshit me? You’re a private investigator; I know why you’re here.”
“I don’t need a license to snoop around in Wyoming,” I said. “Why are you here? This isn’t your case; why get involved?”
“My father is retiring in a few months. I’m taking over his position.”
It was a bit of a shock, but not unexpected. Although I tried not to show it, I admired Cade for what he was doing. His father needed all the help he could get. “Did you ever consider picking up the phone instead of following me around?”
“I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me. Look, solving this case means everything to my father. If there’s anything I can do to help him, I will.”
I felt like swirling my own foot around in the dirt. The conversation was headed in the direction Cade wanted to take me, but I wasn’t sure it would lead to a place I was ready to go.
“You realize I am under no obligation to tell you what I talked about with my client, right?” I said.
Stranger in Town Page 6