by Barb Han
Dade’s oldest sibling, his sister Ella, kept talking about how she felt like their father was still watching over the family. She’d gotten closure from a note their father had given her days before his death. Dade was happy for his sister—finality and peace were two very good things—but his relationship with the old man couldn’t have been more different. And he’d known the minute his father snatched a toy away from him at age seven and told him to quit wasting time and get to work that his father didn’t look at him in the same light.
Expectations for Mike Butler’s sons took on a whole new level. Dade and his twin brother, Dalton, had endured, not enjoyed, childhood. Both had been forced to grow up fast. And neither could really wrap his mind around the fact that the big presence that was their father was gone. A pang of regret hit Dade. He wished he could go back and have the conversation he’d needed to have with his father. Now it was too late.
“I wish I had news for you,” the sheriff started as he took his seat in his executive swivel.
More useless wishes, Dade thought.
“I’m not here to talk about my family’s case.” Dade tried to mentally shake himself out of his reverie. Chewing on the past wouldn’t make it taste better. Reality was bitter. His father was gone and their relationship was beyond repair. Case closed.
Dade focused on the sheriff, noticing the wear and tear on his features as his office continued to be inundated with phone calls, questions and leads about the Mav’s murder. Deep lines bracketed the sheriff’s mouth, and worry grooves carved his forehead.
“Would either of you like a cup of coffee before we get started?” Sheriff Sawmill asked, gripping his own mug of still-steaming brew. There was a packet of Zantac on top of his desk. “Janis would be happy to get it for you while we talk.”
“No, thanks,” Carrie said.
“I’ll get a cup on my way out,” Dade stated, not wanting to waste time.
“What brings you to my office?” Sheriff Sawmill took a sip and set the mug down. He picked up the packet and tore the corner. He dumped the small pill onto his palm and then popped it into his mouth, chasing it with water from a bottle on his desk.
“When I was closing my store earlier, I was cornered by one of the festival workers in the alley.” Carrie crossed her legs and rocked her foot back and forth. Dade remembered her nervous tic from high school.
“Did he touch you or hurt you in any way?” The sheriff’s gaze scanned Carrie as though looking for any signs of struggle.
“Not exactly.” The admission seemed to make her uncomfortable, considering the way she started fidgeting.
“Threaten you?” Sheriff Sawmill leaned forward, making more tears in the corner of the empty Zantac packet.
“He backed me up against the wall but was interrupted be—”
The sheriff’s desk phone rang. He glanced at the screen. “Excuse me for a minute while I take this.”
Carrie nodded.
Dade could see where this was going, and regret stabbed him for dragging her here in the first place. The sheriff, his staff and the volunteers were overwhelmed. The festival worker hadn’t exactly threatened Carrie—intimidated was a better word. Her neighbor had interceded, and then Dade had arrived on the scene. The worker had left without so much as making a threat for anyone else to hear. As frustrating and scary as this whole situation was for her, nothing illegal had happened.
The sheriff ended the call and shot them an apologetic look. “It’s been a little hectic around here. Please, continue.”
“I was backed up against the wall, so I got ready to use my pepper spray when Samuel Jenkins showed up and interrupted Nash,” she said.
“I know the Jenkins boy,” Sawmill said with a nod of acknowledgment. It didn’t matter how old a man was in Cattle Barge. He would always be known by his family association. The Jenkins boy. The Butler boy. No matter how much Dade tried to distance himself in order to be his own man, he’d always be Maverick Mike’s boy. “And Nash is...?”
“The festival worker,” she clarified.
The phone rang again, and the sheriff let out a sharp sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold on for one second.”
Dade could see this was going nowhere. He stood and Sheriff Sawmill immediately put his caller on hold.
“I’m sorry about the interruptions,” Sawmill began. “We get several dozen calls a day from citizens who think someone might be following them or their crazy uncle is hatching a plan to murder them and some of those complainants have access to my direct line considering most of us have lived in this town all of our lives. We all go way back.” His eyes flashed at Dade. “The town’s been in a tizzy for weeks and everyone’s on alert.”
“We understand. We’ll give a statement to one of the deputies out front.” Dade waved off the sheriff.
“My office will do everything in its power to ensure the safety of its citizens.” It was the line the sheriff had most likely given to every small-time complainant since his world had blown up.
When Dade really thought about their case, he couldn’t argue. No real crime had been committed, and that tied the sheriff’s hands. Normally, Sawmill would go talk to the offender and that was deterrent enough, but his plate was full and the festival was on its way out of town in the morning. Problem solved for Carrie.
“We’ll check the festival’s schedule and reach out to local law enforcement and ask to be made aware of any similar complaints.”
“Thank you,” Dade said as Carrie stood, seeming to catch on immediately to the underlying current. Anyone could see that the sheriff’s office was being inundated, so a case like Carrie’s would be swept under the rug. Not for lack of concern, but because resources were too thin and solving a high-profile murder would take precedence.
“Everyone holding up okay at the ranch?” Sawmill asked.
Dade nodded as he put his hand on the small of Carrie’s back.
“Anything you can do is appreciated, Sheriff,” he said, leading her toward the same hallway they’d traversed moments before with the knowledge it wouldn’t be much.
* * *
THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE boomed with activity even at this late hour. Carrie was tired. She wanted to go home, wash off the day and cuddle her dog, Coco. Giving her statement to the deputy hadn’t taken long, but it was getting late.
“He can’t help, can he?” Carrie released her words on a sigh. This seemed like a good time to be grateful Nash would be long gone in the morning and her life would return to normal as soon as the situation with Brett calmed down.
“Doesn’t appear so.” Dade seemed as frustrated as she felt.
Bright lights assaulted her the second she stepped out of the air-conditioning and into the August heat. There was so much flash and camera lighting that it seemed like the sun had come out.
The swarm followed them to Dade’s truck, and a couple of cars tailed them even when they got on the road, snapping pictures. It was a dangerous situation. She could certainly see why Dade had taken the alley in order to stay under the radar.
“I’m sorry the sheriff’s office wasn’t more help,” he said. “I should’ve realized what the place would be like.”
“There’s been a crime wave in town following your dad’s...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word murder.
“Seems most of it has been targeted toward my family.” There was an undercurrent of anger in Dade’s voice.
“Have you even had a chance to process any of this?” Carrie wished there was something she could say or do. “Here you’re helping me when you have so much on your plate already.”
“Good to think about something besides my own problems for a change.” He put on his turn signal and changed lanes. “Did you eat dinner? We could stop off.”
“I wish I could.” She started to apologize but he stopped her. “I have a dog that n
eeds to go out. Her name’s Coco and she’s a Sharp Eagle, which is a cross between a shar-pei and a beagle. She has the beauty of a shar-pei and the sweet temperament of a beagle.” Carrie realized about halfway through her monologue that she was talking too fast. Being alone in a truck with Dade shouldn’t make her feel anxious, so she chalked her heightened feelings up to the crazy end of the day and not the electricity pinging through her body being this near him. “I’m talking too much.”
“Where am I taking you?” Dade half grinned, one side of his mouth curling in a smile that had been cute on a boy and was sexy as hell on a grown man.
Carrie felt her cheeks burn.
“Back to my car is fine. That way I’ll be able to get to work in the morning without calling in any favors.” She had no idea who she’d call. Carrie had been too busy with the sweet shop to make friends. At least, that’s the excuse she gave when she sat at home Friday nights after work instead of meeting pals for dinner. Her social calendar wasn’t exactly full, and she still felt like that gawky teenager she’d been. The truth was that ever since she’d returned to Cattle Barge in high school after being shifted to a group home in Kilburn City, she’d felt like an outsider. But then, no other place had felt like home, either. As silly as it sounded, even to her, the last time she’d felt like she belonged somewhere was primary school in Cattle Barge. Coming back had been an attempt to recover the feeling. So far, she’d supplied the town with the best ice cream she could create—at least that was something.
Thinking about the past, about her past, had a way of creating instant tension in her body. A headache threatened, so she pinched the bridge of her nose.
“The ice cream shop seems to be doing well. It’s all anyone can talk about.” The hint of pride in Dade’s voice caused ripples of hope—maybe a sense of belonging?—to bubble inside her chest.
“It’s definitely been keeping me on my toes, and I’m grateful people seem to like it.” The store made her feel part of the community, even if a counter stood between her and the rest of the world.
“I hear your employees like working for you,” he continued, more of that pride in his voice.
“One of my business professors taught me to hire for attitude. He said everything else can be learned.” She’d completed her associate degree at the community college in Kilgore while waitressing nights. Studying and working was about all she’d had time for in her early twenties. She couldn’t deny her focus was paying off now.
“Sounds like the guy knew what he was talking about,” Dade said.
“What about you?” Carrie wanted to know what had happened to Dade after high school when she’d moved away to go to college.
“I joined the service after graduation. Served my country and came home to the ranch to work the land,” he said, pulling into the alley. “Not sure how long I’ll stick around once the dust settles, though.”
Before she could ask what that meant, a strong sense of foreboding settled on her shoulders, like a heavy blanket. But it was probably nothing, right?
Until she caught a glimpse of red on the driver’s side door of her car. A single rose.
Strange. It hadn’t been there earlier.
Chapter Three
“Getting a flower should be a good thing,” Carrie said to Dade, who pulled alongside her sedan and parked. She shoved aside the notion that he might be planning to move away. She had no real right to ask about his personal life. “But this just feels creepy.”
“I’ll check it out.” He hopped out of the cab.
She didn’t budge. There was something safe about being with Dade, despite the media scrutiny and everything going on with her pulse. Too bad the secure feeling wouldn’t last. And she needed to get home to Coco anyway.
Dade came around to her side and opened the door. “Whoever left this didn’t identify himself.”
He snapped a pic and said he was texting it to the sheriff.
“It’s probably from Brett.” He’d given her a single rose early on in their relationship.
“Either way, the sheriff needs to know,” Dade quickly said.
In Brett’s last voice mail—the one he’d left after he calmed down and started thinking rationally again—he’d said that he’d do pretty much anything to win her back. Was he trying to remind her of happier times? She frowned. There was no chance she was going out with him again. Her favorite pair of jogging shorts was at his place—or at least she thought so, because she couldn’t find them in her house even though she could’ve sworn she’d worn them last weekend. Maybe she hadn’t looked hard enough. In all the stress and confusion of the past couple of weeks, she was starting to lose her mind. Another reason she wished Brett could accept the breakup and move on. Being the cause of someone else’s pain wasn’t exactly a good feeling.
“Does this guy have a hard time understanding when a relationship is over?” An emotion—jealousy?—passed behind Dade’s serious blues.
Carrie was most likely imagining it, seeing what she wanted instead of what was really there. Compassion. And sympathy? Damn. She didn’t want his pity.
“Like I said, the breakup didn’t go over well.” With a sharp intake of air, Carrie exited the truck.
“You’ll be okay?” More of that concern was present in Dade’s voice.
“Yeah, fine. Thank you for taking me to the sheriff and especially for wandering down the alley when you did. I’m sorry the media has you banished to the shadows, but I can’t imagine what might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there.” An involuntary shiver rocked her. She thought about Dade reporting the rose to the sheriff. It wasn’t a crime to do something that many would consider a nice gesture from an ex who was most likely saying he was sorry. But after hearing about Dade’s sister, she could see why he’d be overly cautious.
“Do me a favor. Park in front of the building tomorrow.” Dade took a step back, like he needed more space in between them. Not exactly a reassuring move.
“No question there,” she responded, dodging eye contact. As it was, electricity hummed through her body being this close to Dade. If only she’d felt this way about Brett, things would’ve turned out differently. Brett wasn’t Dade. The two couldn’t be more different. Dade was serious and could be intense, but there was something comfortable and magnetic about being with him. Brett rode a motorcycle and had an edge to his personality, and that had been the initial draw. He was so completely different than her, than anyone she’d dated in the past. Maybe a little bit dangerous, too. Looking back, he was more show than substance, which was one of many reasons she’d walked away before the relationship became too serious.
Brett liked to consider himself a thrill seeker, thus the motorcycle and the biker attitude. Real danger was deploying halfway across the world to face a foreign enemy in order to protect an ideal—freedom—not riding around in a leather jacket looking for a fistfight.
“Do you want me to take care of this?” Dade nodded toward the flower dangling from his hand at his side.
“Would you mind? I don’t want to deal with it right now.” She made a huge mistake in glancing up. Sensual shivers skittered across her exposed skin. She could admit to being embarrassed that she’d been blind enough to get into a bad relationship. She could blame her lapse in judgment on a million things, not the least of which would be working long hours to get her business off the ground. But the truth was that she’d been lonely. Brett was good-looking and charming when he needed to be—especially in the beginning. He’d seemed so proud of her at first, but then it had turned into something else, something possessive. She’d lost interest, and he wasn’t taking it so well. “I must seem like a complete idiot for not seeing this coming.”
“In my experience, people don’t always show their true colors until you really get to know them. That takes time,” he said after a thoughtful pause, and she figured there was a bigger story behind those word
s. “You have good judgment, Carrie. You always were smarter than the rest of us. Everyone makes mistakes now and then. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
His reassuring words calmed her. She shouldn’t allow them to. She knew better than to let herself depend on anyone else. Carrie had learned early in life that all people let her down eventually, from addict parents she’d never met to a system that put her in the hands of an abuser to a distant aunt who’d claimed Carrie and then dumped her back in the system when it became inconvenient to keep her.
Where’d that come from?
This night and the reunion were taking a toll, and she needed to get her emotions in check.
“Stop by the shop sometime,” she said. “Dessert is on the house.”
Dade cracked a smile. “Guess there are perks to knowing the owner.”
“The first treat is for old times’ sake. You’re on your own from there,” she quipped, thinking how nice it was not to have to work at conversation for a change. It had always been like that with Dade. Easy. Light. Fun. When we were young, she corrected. High school had been another matter altogether.
Things changed. And so did people.
The serious blue eyes Dade had possessed as a child were even more intense now. As easy as conversation had been between them all those years ago, neither had spoken about their demons—demons that grew and changed people over time. Demons that could make a man sign up to travel halfway around the world to fight a monster he couldn’t see.
The two chatted easily for another fifteen minutes, catching up on more of each other’s lives in the past few years.