by Nicole Helm
Hank spared her a glance. “Don’t worry. He owes you a drink. I’ll get you one.”
“No, it’s—”
But Hank was already off his chair, striding down the bar to where Ty was serving.
Hank’s phone vibrated and Laurel glanced at the screen. A text window popped up, and since Hank was occupied trying to scam himself into another free drink, Laurel nudged the phone so she could read the text.
There was no sender’s name, only a number. The message read, Eagle Creek Park. 7. Bring folder.
Laurel frowned. Eagle Creek Park was an isolated state park that barely functioned as a park anymore. She didn’t even think they had full-time staff. It was an odd place to meet anyone, unless you were teenagers hoping to get drunk or high. Which certainly didn’t require any folders.
Hank returned, grumbling. “Said I had to wait my turn.” He slid back into the seat, his hand going over his phone. “Maybe you should try...” He trailed off as he read his text.
“Everything okay?” Laurel asked.
Hank scratched a hand through his hair, then took one of the empty glasses and brought it to his mouth, trying to shake the last drops onto his tongue. His hand shook.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, hoping it sounded like worry and compassion and not a cop demand.
“Nothing. Just gotta run. Hey, give me your number so I can hit you up sometime.”
“Oh, sure, you want me to type it in?” she asked innocently, holding out her hand.
“Nah, just tell it to me.” He sat, fingers poised on his phone screen, but Laurel didn’t miss the way his eyes darted around the room.
It was almost ten o’clock, so he couldn’t be rushing to meet the guy. Unless seven meant something else besides time. But what else could it mean? Eagle Creek Park was the location, and its address wasn’t seven.
She rattled off a fake number. Much as she’d like to use this particular fake flirting to her advantage, she didn’t want to push it too far. Especially when she might have to interrogate him as herself.
“Hope I see you around.”
“Hope so,” she offered cheerfully even though she wanted to stomp her feet and demand he tell her the answers. Instead she let him walk away.
But she had something to go on. Eagle Creek Park. Either seven tomorrow morning or seven tomorrow night. She’d be there both times and get to the bottom of this one way or another.
* * *
GRADY WATCHED HANK slink out of the bar. Based on the frustrated expression on Laurel’s face, she hadn’t gotten what she’d wanted out of him.
Grady shouldn’t be happy about that. But, regardless, he had a few questions of his own. He slipped out the back, grabbing a half-full bag of trash as a prop, and pushed out into the parking lot. The Dumpster was right there, and he made a big show out of tossing the bag into the bin.
Hank approached a beat-up old truck and Grady cleared his throat. “Hey, Gaskill, right?”
Hank looked over at him suspiciously, so Grady did his best not to look intimidating. He probably failed in the dim light of a bar parking lot, a big man with a gruff voice.
“Fred Gaskill your kid brother?” Grady asked when Hank didn’t respond.
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Clint Danvers. My kid brother. Who didn’t get mixed up in trouble until good old Freddy came along.” Which was a bald-faced lie, but might lead him somewhere at least. There were too many connections going on here, connections that led to his dumb brother.
Hank scoffed. “First of all, bull. Second of all, it ain’t Freddy, and it ain’t Clint, it’s that chick that’s got ’em wrapped around her pinky finger.”
Which was certainly news to Grady. “Which one?”
“Lizzie Adams. She’s got four kids in Fred’s class following her around town, doing her bidding like she’s some kind of TV mob boss. Those idiots are hard up enough to think she’s going to put out if they do what she wants. Whatever trouble Clint’s got, I guarantee you it started with her.”
Lizzie Adams. Grady committed that name to memory. “Well, thanks for the tip, man.”
Hank shrugged. “I’ve been telling Fred to stay out of her orbit for weeks, but he’s seventeen. Imagine Clint is the same.”
“More than,” Grady grumbled.
Hank got in his truck and Grady offered a wave before heading back inside. Lizzie Adams. He didn’t think a bunch of teenagers were really involved with murder, but something wasn’t right.
He walked back into the bar, stopping at the sounds of crashing coming from the little kitchen. He peeked in to find Vanessa slamming things around with seemingly no purpose.
“Everything okay?”
She glared at him over her shoulder. “Fan-freaking-tastic. What’s a Delaney doing in our bar? In a wig?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Vanessa fisted her hands on her hips and glared at him, but he wasn’t about to be intimidated by his little sister. “Hey, you used to invite her into our house. Consider this payback.”
“I was a kid.”
“And today I happen to be a grown man.” He flashed her a grin that had her reaching for something to throw at him, so Grady picked up the pace and hightailed it into the main area of the bar.
Scanning the people sitting at the barstools, he was gratified to find Laurel still sitting there, typing things into her phone. Notes, no doubt. But she hadn’t scurried off to do that. Her target had left, and she was still here. In his bar.
He wondered how long she’d stay. If she would share her information with him. If he should share his information with her. Or if all she wanted was to finish their discussion from earlier.
He grinned to himself, and as if that was some kind of beacon, Laurel glanced up and looked over at him.
She didn’t grin back. She scowled. But when he nodded to the back room she slid off her stool and headed toward him. He didn’t mind Laurel Delaney walking toward him at all, even in a blond wig.
“I need to talk to you. About the case.”
His grin didn’t falter. “That all?”
“Yes.”
He made a considering noise to rile her up. “Upstairs is the only private place around here.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
He stepped through the opening into the back and headed for the stairs, but Vanessa stormed out of the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Vanessa demanded. When Grady opened his mouth to tell her to mind her own business, she wagged a finger. “Not you.” She moved the finger to point at Laurel. “You.”
Laurel leveled her with a cool look, and didn’t even pretend to be blonde Sarah. “Police business. That’s all I care about, remember?” And with that she sailed past Grady and up the stairs.
Grady glanced at his sister with an eyebrows-raised questioning look, but Vanessa only huffed and stalked into the bar to start her shift.
Women.
He took the stairs, slowly, because he kind of liked the idea of Laurel waiting for him. She was tapping her foot when he reached the top.
“Can we move this along? I have things to do.”
“At your command, princess,” he said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door to his apartment. He dramatically gestured her inside.
Once he closed the door, she didn’t hesitate to start in on cop mode.
“I need some information out of Clint, and I don’t think he’s going to give it to me.”
“I don’t think he’s going to give it to me, either.”
“What about another family member? Vanessa, maybe?”
“Because she’s known for her reason and charm? Pretty sure you were just on the brunt edge of that. What happened between you two?”
“A question only your sister can answer. I have no idea.”
“Dad was pretty hard on her about being friends with you.”
“Yeah, so was mine.”
“He ever hit you?”
Laurel stilled, but she didn’t wilt. “No. He didn’t.” She blew out a breath. “I am not here to drudge up ancient history. Or Delaney-Carson nonsense. I saw a text Hank got that I can only assume is important or linked, and I need to know what Clint knows about Eagle Creek Park.”
“You mean the place all the high school kids go to get high?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I could probably get someone to ask him that without him bristling. Why do you need to know?”
“Because.”
Grady crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at her. “Try again.”
“It’s confidential.”
“Fine, then I won’t tell you what Hank told me out there in the parking lot.”
“Hank didn’t tell you anything.”
Grady raised an eyebrow. “You calling me a liar? I believe back in the day that ended up with shoot-outs in the streets and a lot of Delaneys on the wrong side of a standoff.”
“Tell me, and then I’ll show you the text.”
“Promise?”
She wrinkled her nose, clearly balking, but eventually she pushed out a breath. “Fine, I promise.”
“Hank said his brother and Clint and a couple of the other idiot boys they hang out with are all gone over this girl, and she’s the cause of any trouble they get into. Girl named Lizzie Adams.”
“Adams? The man in charge of the mine is named Adams. These kids are connected somehow.”
“I agree.”
Laurel started moving toward the door, but Grady grabbed her arm. “Hey, you have to show me the text.”
“I have to go, Grady. I have to look into this. Make sure Lizzie Adams is—”
“You promised, princess,” he said, not letting her arm go no matter how she jerked it. “Now, spill.”
She grunted in frustration, but she pulled her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. “Let me go now.”
He did so, but stayed alert, because he wouldn’t put it past her to make a dash for it. And if she did, he’d have no compunction about throwing her over his shoulder. He’d enjoy it.
She held the phone out to him and he read the notes she’d typed.
“This is what his text said, verbatim. And this is the number.”
“Eagle Creek Park. 7. Bring folder.”
“So, I need to be at Eagle Creek Park at seven, and if he’s not there in the morning, I’ll go at night. But if Clint can get me some information—”
“What if it’s not a time?”
“Huh?”
“What if seven isn’t a time? It could be a...hike marker, a cabin—it could be a campsite. Hank wasn’t just meandering out of here after a few drinks. If he didn’t have somewhere to be, he’d be trying to get into your pants.” Because it was damn weird Hank had hightailed it out of here.
“I have to go.”
“Like hell.”
“Grady, this is police bus—”
“Then call backup because I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go to an isolated park all by yourself. I don’t care if it’s me or some cop crony of yours, but there’s gonna be somebody.”
“I don’t have time for this. He’s got a good ten-minute head start on me, and Hank could be going into danger. Another isolated place like we found Jason? I’ll call for backup on my way.” She jerked the door open, but he followed.
“Fine, but I’m at your side until that backup shows up.”
“Grady,” she growled, already jogging down the stairs.
But he jogged right after her. “Sorry, princess, you don’t have time to argue.”
Chapter Nine
Laurel didn’t have time to argue, and while she had half a mind to pull out her gun and use it on Grady to keep him put, she knew where night shift zones were, and she knew she could get to Eagle Creek Park long before any of the deputies on duty.
It wasn’t smart to go alone, but it was hardly smart to go with a civilian. Especially this one.
But what choice did she have? She couldn’t help thinking Hank was in danger, and she couldn’t ignore that and wait for backup.
So, she got into her car, and let Grady get into the passenger seat no matter how much she shouldn’t.
“Don’t say or do anything,” she instructed. She pulled her radio out from the glove compartment and switched it on. She relayed the information, what there was of it. A mysterious location in a big park, no idea of who was involved or if it was even criminal. It could be some romantic assignation. With folders.
She focused on the road, ignoring Grady’s large presence in her passenger seat.
“You gonna take off the wig?”
She cursed under her breath and started digging for the pins keeping the wig in place. Every time she found one she plucked it out and tossed it over her shoulder. When Grady’s fingertips skimmed her ear, she nearly jerked off the road.
“Easy,” he murmured, far too close as she sped down the highway out of Bent. “Just going to help.”
Somehow she focused on the road as Grady finished pulling all the pins out of her hair. Admittedly, her heart was beating too hard against her chest, but she could chalk that up to adrenaline and worry about Hank over the feel of Grady’s fingers in her hair.
That man kissed you!
She could not even begin to think about that right now. Once it felt loose enough, she tugged off the wig and threw it in the back.
“Stick with brunette, princess.”
“I’ll keep it under advisement,” she muttered, flipping on her brights as they approached the park.
She squinted, surveying the side of the road. She knew the sign for the park had long ago been knocked over and not put back up, so the entrance was hard to find in the dark if you weren’t looking for it. When she reached the entrance, she switched the lights back to normal. It would be hard to sneak up on anyone in a car, with the lights, the sound of an engine and the tires on the road, but she and Grady couldn’t exactly hike the whole park, either.
“Do you know your way around?”
“I know the campsites are in the back. You take that left there,” he said, tapping the windshield in the direction of a small gravel one-way street. “Campsites are numbered one through however many there are, if I’m remembering right. Road goes up, then around a cul-de-sac, so seven should be on our right as we drive up there.”
Laurel nodded and navigated the turn onto the narrow road. She scanned the dark for the sign of a vehicle, a person, or anything that might lead them to believe someone was out here.
“How much space between campsites?” Laurel asked as her headlights flashed against a crooked sign that read Campgrounds closed.
“Not much, so if we’re only going to seven, we could stop here and walk. Can’t imagine it taking more than ten minutes. We could surprise them. Well, assuming they haven’t already heard the car.”
Laurel nodded. It would be at least another twenty before backup could get to the park. She radioed out the plan to the officer en route, then brought the car to a stop in campsite one. She backed in, in case they needed to get out of here quick, before grabbing her flashlight and utility belt, and fishing the gun out of the bra holster.
She ignored Grady’s raised eyebrows as he watched her, and got out of the car. She snapped everything into place except the flashlight, clicking it on as Grady quietly closed the passenger door and met her at the hood of the car.
“You should stay in the car,” she said, knowing she was wasting her breath.
He huffed out a laugh. “Lead the way, Deputy.”
She sighed heavily. “Stay behind me. Don’t make any noise. If you try to be a hero,
I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Sure you will.”
It was so incredibly annoying he knew her threats didn’t hold any weight. But they didn’t have time for bickering. She started walking up the gravel drive, training her flashlight on the ground and the signs alternatively, keeping her ears tuned to the sounds around them.
Wind whistled through the trees and against the grasses. Animals scurried through both. The dark took on a life of its own, a moving, unpredictable thing. Laurel kept her hand on her gun, and her flashlight at the ready.
As they reached the sign for campsite number five, she flicked off the light. Grady didn’t say anything, and she gave them a few moments to adjust to the dark. It was a clear, cold night, but even the vibrant glow of the stars and moon above didn’t make the dark any less daunting.
Laurel began to inch forward, keeping one foot on the gravel and one foot on the grass to make sure she was following the path of the road. When a hand grabbed her shoulder, she nearly screamed, but she bit it back in time, reminding herself Grady was behind her.
“Listen,” he whispered into her ear. He was suddenly close enough she could feel his body heat, the slight movement of his breath against her hair, but she had more important things to focus on.
Listening.
It took a few moments, but finally she heard it. It sounded like the wind at first, but the more she listened, the more she picked up the cadence of speech in whispers.
She reached up and moved Grady’s hand from her right shoulder to her left, then placed her own left hand over it. She patted it, trying to make a nonverbal sign for him to keep it there as they inched forward.
She needed to be close enough to hear what the whispers were, and she needed to know where Grady was. So, she stepped forward, and Grady followed, his tight, warm grip on her shoulder.
She pulled out her gun, wanting it at the ready in case whoever they came upon was armed as well. She hated that she wasn’t wearing her vest, but she also hated Grady unprotected behind her and the fact Hank was in danger, no matter if he’d gotten himself in it.
The whispers got louder, but still Laurel couldn’t make out the words, and couldn’t tell how close they were getting. With the open spaces and sparse clusters of trees, sound bounced everywhere.