7
BR A E D Y N
ROLLING MY SHOULDERS BACK, I imagined sliding invisible armor into place. I’d need every piece of chain mail for the battle about to ensue.
Taking in the double glass doors and the sign above that readJuniper County Sheriff’s Department, I sucked in a deep breath and reached for the handle. The moment the door opened, I heard the din of conversation and work. It wasn’t the sort of noise that came from emergencies but from everyday business.
As I stepped inside, a woman in her mid-thirties looked up from behind the counter. “Afternoon, can I help you?”
“Hi. I wondered if Sheriff Miller was in?” I kept my voice steady and my expression neutral.
“Can I get your name to let him know who’s here?”
I tried not to tense at the question. Of course, she’d ask.
The problem was, my name would give Sheriff Miller warning. But I didn’t have any other option. “Braedyn Winslow.”
There was no recognition on the woman’s face; she simply lifted the phone on her desk and hit a couple of buttons.
“Sheriff, there’s a Braedyn Winslow here to see you.”
I watched as the woman’s demeanor changed. The easy welcome slid away millimeter by millimeter, replaced by a
hardness that had lines settling around her mouth and eyes.
Not a glare exactly, but not nearly as friendly.
Still, I didn’t let my expression change. Professional.
Neutral. And unmovable. I’d sit in this reception area all day if I had to. I’d done it before on one of the occasions I’d managed a trip up here for the day while Owen was with a friend’s family.
“Understood, sir,” the woman said, lowering the phone to the receiver. She looked up with brown eyes gone guarded, making her skin seem paler than it had been just moments ago. “You’ll have to wait.”
“No problem,” I said easily, moving toward the hard plastic reception chairs. What was it with law enforcement offices and hospitals? Always the worst chairs when you needed a moment of kindness.
I eased into the uncomfortable plastic shell and set my tote bag on the chair beside me. It was the one Nova had made me, complete with an embroidered Bigfoot in the top corner and the wordbelieve next to it. I pulled out my book on scent training.
I wanted to start training Yeti on air tracking. It would allow her to move more quickly, and now that her recall was nearly perfect, I trusted her enough to release her without a lead. I’d just need to make sure she had her bear bell and a GPS collar.
“You know, I’m hurt,” a familiar voice said. “You ask to talk to the big guy and don’t even bother to stop and say hello.”
“She emailed me and told me she was coming in,” another voice said, a teasing edge to it.
I shut my book and looked up, a smile tipping my lips. The Juniper County sheriff might’ve been on my shit list lately, but that didn’t mean his officers were.
My gaze settled on the owner of the first voice. “I might not have requested your assistance, but that doesn’t mean I
came without gifts.” I pulled out a cellophane bag I’d tied with ribbon and handed it to Roger.
The tall man with sandy-blond hair took it easily, studying the contents. “Donuts, coffee, and speeding ticket cookies?”
The second man barked out a laugh, his green eyes twinkling. “I’ll be damned.”
I fished in my tote and retrieved a second bag. “One for you, too, Travis.”
He grinned at me, patting his flat stomach as his gaze flicked to Roger. “Don’t tell Cora she gave me these. I don’t want to share.”
“You never want to share,” Roger mumbled as he untied his bag.
Travis quickly broke off a piece of cookie. “Sharing is for non-food-related items only.”
“Not even withCora? That’s not very nice,” I teased.
Roger popped a piece of cookie into his mouth.
“Especially since they just got engaged.”
My eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
A little pink hit Travis’s cheeks, making his auburn hair look a little redder. “About a month ago.”
I pushed up and out of the chair, giving the man a hug. “So happy for you.”
And I was. Roger and Travis had both been on the original callout for Nova. And when Sheriff Miller started going longer and longer between updates, they’d kept me in the loop. But I knew I had to get Miller on my side if I wanted real law enforcement effort on Nova’s case. I had to find something that would make him believe Nova was still out there, that there was hope.
“Looks to me like my boys got too much time on their hands,” a loud voice boomed.
Both Roger and Travis tensed. Miller’s tone was teasing, but I got the sense the words carried the jerk of a choke collar. The sheriff’s hair had gone snow white with age, and
while the bushy mustache should’ve been grandfatherly, his tone made it come across more sinister than anything.
A muscle flickered along Travis’s jaw. “Just saying hello.”
Roger was better at playing the game. He shot the sheriff a grin and held out his bag. “Cookie?”
Miller eyed the contents, and I could see he wanted one, but he shook his head. “No.”
I bent, fishing out my third and final bag. “I brought one for you, too, sir. Home baked.”
“You poison ’em?” Travis muttered under his breath.
Roger choked on a half laugh, half cough.
Miller just scowled but swiped the bag from me. “What do you want, Braedyn? There are no updates. I told you I’d call if there were.”
“I know. But I wanted to let you know that I moved to Starlight Grove.”
All three men went silent and stock-still.
“What in tarnation were you thinking?” Miller bellowed.
“You think you can move to town and start riding my ass every week? I will bar you from this building. We got real cases to tackle. Your friend’s gone. Tourists fall prey to all kinds of fatal accidents in these woods and mountains. I’m sorry for your loss, but you gotta let her go.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood. “She’s not gone. I found her water bottle in the parking lot.
Someone took her.”
“She probably dropped it on your way out on the hike—”
“She didn’t. I saw her drink from it,” I shot back.
Miller shook his head. “Youthink you did. Mind plays tricks. Guilt plays tricks.”
His last statement was the truest thing I’d ever heard him say.
“I’m not wrong. And even if I don’t have your help, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. Ever.”
Snatching my bag off the chair, I stalked out of the building and onto the sunbaked sidewalk. My breaths came
in ragged pants until I got my temper under control.
“Brae.”
I stiffened at the sound of Roger’s voice but forced myself to turn around. The pity I saw written across his face was a sucker punch to the gut. “You think she’s gone, too.”
His blue eyes shifted to the side. “What I think doesn’t
matter.”
“It does to me,” I said quietly.
Roger studied me for a long moment. “I think she likely fell into the river and it took her under. I don’t want to think she was kidnapped. Because if she was, she’s gone, and it’s not a pleasant way to go.”
My stomach twisted at the thought. Delving into the world of missing persons after Nova disappeared, I’d heard all the horror stories. Human trafficking. Serial killers. Rapists. I didn’t want any of that for my friend and sister.
“But,” Roger went on, “sometimes, we have to look forus.
We need to go down every possible road so we can let go. So tell me, what do you need?”
He might not believe, but he’d still help. I’d take that. “I need resources. I have maps of movements and possible sightings. I have similar cases of missing persons. But I need…I need access to camera feeds from that time period and the reports of possible sightings.”
Roger winced and scrubbed a hand over his face.
“Miller won’t let you,” I surmised.
Roger shook his head. “Said he’ll can my ass if I use company time or resources.” He let out a long breath, glancing over his shoulder as if checking to make sure we had a modicum of privacy. “I’m not sure why Miller’s taking such a hard line on this but he’s heaping more work on anyone’s plate who says they have time to look into Nova’s case.”
Anger stirred, a hot flush rising to my cheeks. I understood that they were a small department with limited
to resources, but this was flat out cruel. “Then how am I supposed to get my hands on that footage?”
Roger studied me for a long moment. “It could’ve been
erased by now. But…”
“But what?” I pressed, hope flaring.
“I’ve got a friend. He’s damn good with computers. Might be able to find some workarounds. Let me see.”
I stretched up, laying a smacking kiss on Roger’s bristled cheek. “Thank you.”
“Careful,” Roger warned. “You keep kissin’ me like that, I’m gonna keep askin’ you to dinner.”
“Sorry, pal. That particular shop is closed.” And it would stay that way. Sometimes, trust had been broken in too many ways to let yourself go down that road. It wouldn’t be fair to you or whoever you attempted it with.
Roger let his gaze sweep over me for a moment. “Damn shame.”
I laughed, starting down the sidewalk. “I’m taking that as
a compliment.”
“It is one,” he called back.
I gave him a wave and turned to head down the block. I took my time, looking in windows to see if there were any Help Wanted signs. The one in the window of Barrel & Branch was a bust. They were looking for someone who could work nights. I dropped off a résumé at the bookstore and an art gallery before pausing in front of the dark wood facade of the Boot.
A bar almost certainly was looking for someone who could work nights, but when I peeked in through the open saloon doors, I saw that it was half-full at three in the afternoon.
That had to mean something.
Brushing my hair back, I took stock of myself in the reflection of the front windows: blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail with a few wisps framing my face, the light makeup I’d taken time to apply this morning—something I rarely did in the summer months when Owen and I were
outside more. I’d picked dark-wash jeans and a white boho blouse that read casual but professional and paired them with sandals.
I needed to get cowboy boots if I wanted to fit in with the locals. I hadn’t missed how about 75 percent of them wore the footwear or work boots, even though the temps had raised into the seventies.
Straightening my bag on my shoulder, I gave Nova’s friendship bracelet a tap for luck and headed inside. I quickly scanned the patrons and marked a variety of folks—a table of guys who were likely locals, given they looked as if they’d recently kicked off from a construction site. I took stock of a couple poring over a hiking guidebook and had to stop myself from a warning lecture. A family piled into a booth, along with a few other groups. Two guys and a woman sat at the bar.
The space itself had real character. Two walls were adorned with local signage, while a third had nothing but license plates. The fourth was dedicated to the spectacular bar. The woodwork looked hand-carved and expertly done.
And the bottles lining the shelves were various shapes, sizes, and values.
A dark-haired man standing behind the bar looked up from his phone as if he had radar for people approaching his domain. He quickly swept me from head to toe, not in a lascivious way but in an assessing one.
That sort of thing didn’t bother me. I did the same, looking for any red flags or other alerts. So I gave him an easy smile. Not overly forced but warm. “Hi.”
“Afternoon. Looking for a table?” he asked, those dark eyes never leaving my face. He was tall, leanly muscled, and had a hint of scruff. When he moved, I saw that his dark eyes had a golden-green cast.
“Actually, I was hoping I could talk to someone about a job opening.”
Brown brows lifted in surprise. “Summer gig?”
I guessed that some tourists who stayed through the summer liked to find part-time work. It made sense, something to line your pockets while you were away.
“I’d take it for as long as you’d offer it.”
The assessing stare was back. He double-checked my features as if he might’ve misplaced them somehow. “New in town?”
I nodded. “Just moved here from Oakland. I have restaurant experience, though it’s been a minute. I worked in a bar and grill for about five years back in Rhode Island.
In Oakland, I worked as an office manager at an accounting firm.”
“Far from home,” the man assessed. “Little bit of a different vibe up here.”
It wasn’t a question, but I understood what he was asking.
He wanted to know if this was a fluke and if I would bail on him the second I realized we were in a small-as-hell town without the comforts of city life.
“Different is just what I’m looking for,” I told him. And it wasn’t a lie. The past year had fundamentally changed me in ways that made me crave quiet, peace, and the knowledge of who your neighbors were.
“Well,” the man said, leaning against the back bar, “what are you looking for in a job?”
This was my chance. “Anything I can do from nine to four.
I’ll clean, serve, sous chef, wash dishes, mix drinks, clear tables. I’ve got some bookkeeping experience, so I could help in that area if you’re looking for it.”
He was quiet for a moment, then shoved off the bar and reached out a hand. “Wylder Archer. This is my bar, and it just so happens that I think bookkeeping is the seventh circle of hell.”
A laugh bubbled out of me as I took his offered hand.
“Braedyn Winslow, but my friends call me Brae.”
“Well, Brae, there a reason you can’t work past four?”
I swallowed. This could be the breaking point. “I have a son. He’ll be in camp Monday through Friday, eight thirty to four thirty. I need to be with him the rest of the time. Once school starts, the hours will be similar.”
“That’s as good a reason as any.” He glanced to his left, his gaze settling on a woman who looked to be in her early thirties with tanned skin and a sleek fall of light-brown hair.
“Cora,” he called.
She looked up as she set the final plate down on the table.
The ease of the motion said she’d done it thousands of times before. “You called, boss man?” she said as she tucked her tray under her arm and crossed to us.
“Cora, this is Brae. She’s new in town. How do you feel about training her for day shift?”
Cora’s green eyes lit like a kid’s at Christmas. “Hot damn.
Best news of my day. Welcome to Starlight Grove, Brae.”
“Thank you. And nice to meet you,” I greeted. And then the light dawned. “Are you the Cora engaged to Travis by any chance?”
Her whole face lit up then. “I am. Do you know Trav?”
“A little.” I struggled to explain just how I knew her fiancé without trauma-dumping on all of them. “He, uh, helped me out with an incident last year when I was visiting.”
Cora simply nodded. “He’s a good one.”
But Wylder had that assessing look again. He didn’t give voice to his curiosities. Instead, he pointed to a pass-through window where I could just make out a woman with salt-and- pepper hair and kind eyes. “That’s Fiona in the kitchen.
She’s a sometimes cook and sometimes waitress.”
“And all around keeping your asses in line,” she called back. “Hi, honey. You can call me Fiona or Fee, I answer to
both.”
“Nice to meet you,” I returned.
“Did I hear fresh meat?” a male voice called as it got closer.
I turned to see a man who looked to be in his mid-thirties but had the boyish expression of someone much younger. He was definitely handsome, with dark hair and blue-green eyes, but he wore it in a way that said he knew it and used it to his
advantage.
“Aidan,” Wylder warned.
“What?” he asked, affronted. “What did I do?”
“It was what you wereabout to do, which was hit on my new waitress and bookkeeper.”
“Stop using your psychic abilities on me,” Aidan muttered.
He held out a hand. “Don’t listen to the lies these two tell you. I’m misunderstood, that’s all.”
I took the hand, laughing as Aidan executed some sort of bow where he touched my knuckles to his forehead. I glanced at Wylder. “Psychic, huh?”
Wylder rolled his eyes in a movement that mirrored one of Owen’s. “Hardly. Worked in bars since the second I turned eighteen. I know people.”
That made a little more sense. And that sort of experience gave you a kind of wisdom that was hard to come by.
“He uses his gifts for evil,” Aidan grumbled.
Wylder stiffened at that, and Cora sent Aidan a death glare.
He winced. “You know what I mean. He always knows when I’m lying about calling in sick.”
The tension in Wylder’s shoulders eased a bit but not all the way. “You’re just too easy to read. You call in sick anytime you’re here with friends the night before or the fish are biting.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep your psychic powers away from me,”
Aidan said with a laugh. “Even if you do look all hot as hell when you’re mind-melding people.”
There was something here—something in the interplay that had just occurred, the reaction to the wordevil. But I wasn’t sure what it was.
“So,” Wylder said, bringing my focus back to him. “Can
you start tomorrow?”
A grin split my face. “Seriously?”
“One-week trial. You do good, you become a permanent
hire. You in?”
“I am so in,” I agreed quickly.
Cora patted my shoulder. “Welcome aboard.” She glanced down at my feet. “I recommend sneakers tomorrow.”
“Noted.” The fact that I could wear my lucky Converse that Owen had decorated for me was a definite bonus. I glanced at Wylder. “Is there a dress code?”
“Dress code for what?” a deep voice asked—afamiliar deep voice. Something about the tenor. It had a frequency all its own that made my skin pebble in anticipation.
I turned, taking in my hot, unhinged neighbor. He’d obviously showered and wore jeans that hugged thick thighs —likely a by-product of those morning runs—and a worn T- shirt with writing so faded I couldn’t make it out. And the glasses were back. Damn, those glasses.
But beneath them, I took in the dark-hazel eyes full of suspicion. The emotion was only amplified by the lines of tension bracketing his mouth. Apparently, my neighbor was just as unhappy to see me here as he was at the cabin he’d thought was his. The only problem was, I was here first.
“Are you following me?” I accused, a hint of humor lacing my words. I couldn’t help poking the grumpy bear.
The man glowered in my direction. “It’s my brother’s bar.
What’s your excuse?”
Oh, hell.
That meant my hot, grumpy-as-hell neighbor would be in here. Possibly a lot. But I didn’t let that make me falter. I jutted out my chin. “I work here.”
“You hired her?” the man demanded, clearly disbelieving.
“Jesus, Dex, what’s your deal?” Wylder asked.
Dex. It fit him somehow. Short, to the point, and a little harsh but still sexy as hell.
“Newsflash, neighbor, just becauseyou think I’m the worst doesn’t mean everyone does,” I informed him.
Cora let out a strangled laugh. “What’d you do, Dex?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Dex began.
“He broke into my house and flashed me,” I said, completely nonchalant, knowing it would just piss Dex off.
He gaped at me. “That…that isn’t even remotely true.”
“Dude, you can get arrested for that shit,” Aidan muttered.
I arched a brow at Dex. “Isn’t it true?”
He glared at me. “You are the worst.”
I grinned. “I’m afraid that’s you, Bird Poop Boy.” I shot Cora and Wylder a wave. “See you tomorrow.”
And with that, I left Dex to explain. It served him right, the grumpy pants.
