Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“Besides hurting my family’s livelihood? I don’t know.” But I can see his mind working. “When I was helping Sarah with deliveries on Thursday, we stopped to get gas, and Hank Murphy showed up.”
I take a deep breath. The idea of Hank anywhere near Logan is unsettling, especially if I’m not there. “He followed you?”
“I don’t know. He was in that red tow truck. But he brought up that bullshit with Jay and Ian’s stash again. He offered me Jay’s share of whatever it is. I tried to get more details out of him, but he didn’t fall for it.”
“Yeah, he’s not dumb.” I wish he were. It would be a lot easier to keep him where he belongs.
Logan’s gaze wanders around the expanse of land again. “But then he said something about this stash being on our property, and it got me thinking. What if Jay buried whatever it is somewhere here?”
“Okay, walk me through your conversation with Hank that day. Every word.” I stand in the frigid cold but feel nothing, listening intently as Logan repeats everything he can remember.
“So, Hank thinks Ian and Jay hid whatever they had on Landry land.”
We scan our surroundings.
“I mean, it’s possible.” Where better to hide something than on one thousand acres? “Where would you even begin to look?”
“I have no fucking clue, and obviously Hank doesn’t either.” Logan’s face pinches with doubt. “But my father would have noticed. He can’t be everywhere all the time, but he covers the grounds pretty well.”
“Holt would know if someone dug a hole on his property,” I agree.
“But what about the one hundred and sixty acres behind our property that no one ever used or touched?”
“That Jon and Sarah own now.” I see where he’s going with this. “You think Jay buried it back there.”
“I don’t know what I think.” Logan toys absently with the buckling mesh fence that he’ll need to fix today, before the wolves find their way back tonight. “Why would he keep pressing me like this if it was just a hunch?”
“He sounds pretty certain.” It clicks. “Which means he had to be a part of whatever they were into.” A second piece fits neatly right after. “And Travis Dorsey probably was too.”
“My PO said Travis had specific restrictions against associating with Hank while on parole.” Worry etches his handsome face. “So, what are we talking about here?”
I shrug. “Drugs? Guns? Cash?” The three basic food groups for anyone in Murphy’s orbit. “Whatever it is, I doubt they planned on leaving it buried for this long. It’s probably decomposed by now.”
“Yeah? What if there’s a fucking body decomposing with it?” Logan mutters, wandering back to the snowmobile. He pulls off his helmet to set it on his seat and then collects the toolkit strapped to the back.
I’d love to ease his worry and say that’s not possible, but I can’t, not after what Jay and Ian did that night. “We’re not gonna find anything now, in this.” I gesture to the snow. “But we can try looking in the spring. I can probably get my hands on a trained dog. And I can bring Duke out. See if he picks up a scent. He’s trained for cadavers.” Twenty years buried is a long time, though.
“And what about this?” He juts his chin toward the sabotaged fence. “You think this is Hank too? Or do I have a problem with someone else that I don’t know about yet?” Anger laces his words.
“Hank doesn’t make sense for this,” I admit. “Let’s start by searching the area for anything unusual, which, given the snow, we’re unlikely to find.” It’ll be the proverbial needle and haystack. “Then we follow your trail around to look for any human tracks, especially toward the closest road access.” We likely won’t find anything because someone obviously did this before the heavy snowfall. “And let’s see if Jon’s cameras picked up anything else.” He has several that he repositions based on where the herd is. “Jon said this was the second time this month, so we look at the first night to see if there are any patterns. We lay it all out in front of us and see what shakes loose.”
He nods slowly. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I … uh …,” I stammer, caught off guard by that question. “Isla’s going to Barrie overnight for back-to-back games. Dillon’s taking her.”
“So, you can come over then. See if there’s something here.” He watches me, his expression hopeful.
“Yeah, of course. If someone’s intentionally sabotaging the ranch, we’ll figure it out.” Even as I voice this valid reason for accepting his invitation, I know it’s a mistake. I’m terrified of how easily my resistance vanishes when I’m near him. Every minute more that I spend with Logan, every trip down memory lane we take, chips away at my common sense as effectively as a chisel against ice. I can see it happening and instead of fighting it, I’m charging headfirst toward the other side.