I’m ready to jump in the car in my pajama pants and rush to Grand Junction.
The same way I rushed back to the ranch when she asked me to become her assistant city attorney. I’ll do anything for my mother.
She’s right, though. I have to take care of things in town. Life doesn’t stop just because of a tragedy. I know that better than anyone.
“All right, Mom,” I say. “But if you change your mind, I’ll be there.”
“I know you will.”
“You want me to call Dale and Bree?”
“No, I’ll take care of that, or I’ll get Marj to do it. You get into the office and make sure things run smoothly while I’m gone.”
“You got it. Anything for you, Mom.”
“You’re a wonderful son, Donny. I love you.”
“I love you too. Give Dad my love.”
“I will. Bye, sweetie.”
I heave a sigh and stare at my phone for a few minutes.
I can’t lose my father. He means the world to me. And damn… It would be ten times harder on Dale.
Dad is fine now, according to Mom. She wouldn’t sugarcoat anything where Dad’s well-being is concerned. If she were more worried, she’d want me there at her side, even if it meant no attorney were in the office in town.
I rise, finally, and stumble into the shower. I make it a cold one as I need to wake up. I hate cold showers, but they do the job—for waking up, at least. Not for blue balls.
Damn.
Blue balls.
Callie.
Callie and I and our fight.
It wasn’t a fight so much as….
I’m not sure what it was.
I know only that I’m in love with Callie Pike, and she’s in love with me.
This should be a time for happiness, joy, euphoria.
Instead?
It’s a time of doubt, of wondering if my father and uncles have been lying to us our whole lives, of knowing mysteries surround our family, the biggest of which is—who shot Talon Steel?
Secrets. Secrets and lies—and it could all come crashing down when we least expect it if I don’t figure out what’s going on.
I turn off the shower and shiver as I wrap myself in a bath sheet. I towel off my hair and open the mirrored cabinet above my sink.
The glasses case.
The safe-deposit box key.
I don’t wear glasses. I don’t have a safe-deposit box. How the hell did it get here?
I don’t have time to go to Denver today, but I sure as hell won’t send anyone else.
Mom and Dad have an alarm system. No one could have gotten into the house unauthorized. What is the name of the company that surveils the house? I have no freaking idea.
I give Dale a quick call.
“Yeah, Don?”
“Hey, do you happen to know the name of the company that monitors the main house? I need some information.”
“Yeah, it’s Monarch Security. What do you need?”
“Someone got in…and into my room.”
“What?” Dale grits out.
Already I feel the anger rising in my brother. I share it. Who was in our house?
“Yeah. I found a glasses case in my medicine cabinet.”
“You don’t wear glasses.”
“Very good, genius. There weren’t any glasses inside, but there was a key to a safe-deposit box in a bank in Denver.”
“You sure it’s not yours?”
“Of course I’m sure. I don’t have a safe-deposit box.”
“You don’t? Maybe you don’t remember opening it. You lived in Denver a long time.”
“For God’s sake, Dale. I’d remember renting a safe-deposit box.”
“Okay, okay. I just thought maybe you had one for client documents or something.”
“My firm took care of all that stuff. Who the hell got into the house?”
“I don’t know. Check with Monarch. They should have video surveillance.”
“Video? It’s not just an alarm system?”
“No. Dad told me about it a while ago when you were still in Denver. The house used to belong to Grandma and Grandpa Steel, as you know. Grandpa Steel had everything installed, and Dad had it updated shortly before you and I arrived at the ranch. All state of the art.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t ask. I just assumed because of our monetary situation.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll give them a call. Then I need to go to Denver and find out what the hell’s in this safe-deposit box.”
“Yeah. Let me know when you do that.”
“I will. I’m not sure when I can. So much is going on here in town.”
“You need to make the time.”
He’s right. I mentally add it to my huge-ass to-do list.
John Lambert is serving the Murphys with papers this morning—papers that tell them to leave their building for three days so a potential gas leak can be investigated and, if necessary, repaired by the city. Dale and I need to search the place during that window.
I ignore the surge of acid in my stomach, or at least I try to. I hate that I did this. I hate it with a passion. But was there any other choice?
I swallow down the disgust at myself. No time. The key. Denver. It will all have to wait.
Who the hell has been in this house?
Chapter Two
Callie
I arrive early to work.
Why not? I didn’t sleep at all. Between thoughts of Pat Lamone’s return to Snow Creek and how Donny and I left things…
Sleep wasn’t going to happen, and it didn’t.
I stop at Rita’s for some black coffee. Ava’s bakery sits across the street, fresh almond croissants in the display case.
They’re not even the slightest bit appetizing.
My appetite has gone on hiatus.
Freaking Pat Lamone. Already back to his old games, spreading lies about Rory and our family. How long has it been? Ten years?
Yeah, ten years. Aren’t people supposed to mature after ten years?
I guess we got complacent. We thought those times were gone forever.
Well…we chased him out of Snow Creek once. We can do it again if we have to.
Though I’d really like to catch a break. Just once. One break.
The fire. Our vines—gone. Law school—gone.
And now… Pat Lamone. If only he could be gone as I thought he was.
I sigh and sit down at a table in the café. I don’t have to be at work for a half hour yet. I take a sip of coffee and rub my forehead.
This will be a long day.
Being invisible has its perks. Sure, my sister’s the homecoming queen and all, and my brother was the big man on campus four years ago—the best quarterback our small town has ever produced.
But Caroline Pike is invisible.
She’s the one who earns the good grades, always makes the honor roll, and who, no matter how hard she scrubs her face, always has one or two zits to show for it.
I stare into the mirror in the restroom at Snow Creek High. The stench of stale cigarettes makes breathing a chore, but I’d rather be in here than out chatting in the hallway with all the others. Even the smell of marijuana doesn’t drive me away, and frankly, it smells like a skunk to me.