Long Lost Winter, page 3
It was still living. “Hey, I’ve got an appointment to see a house at four,” Nate told Sam.
“It’s not far from here. Maybe you could come with. I’ve never bought a house before. At least not one in a town with plumbing and, you know, the idea of permanence. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I could use a hand.”
She didn’t speak right away. He wasn’t sure what that was. The way she looked at him sometimes and paused. Watching him with those dark eyes that always seemed to see more than he knew what to do with.
Then she nodded. “Sure. Meet me here at three thirty?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“Any time, Nate.”
*
Sam spent the afternoon in the office looking through the paper trail that was their new John Doe’s life.
He’d been given the name Bowman Lake by the family who had adopted him. He’d told her he preferred to go by Bo. He’d had sad eyes and a nervous way about him. Both things took turns earning her sympathy and her suspicion. She didn’t love that she couldn’t land on one or the other.
Bo had shared all the details of his appearance. He’d been a young boy wandering around the railroad tracks in a town called Burlington, Iowa. No one had claimed him. No one had been able to connect him with family. Eventually, he’d been adopted by a family who’d moved to Wisconsin when he’d been ten.
He’d had that DNA test years ago that had connected to far-flung matches in Montana, though not Marietta specifically, but the leads had all been dead ends.
His adoptive father had passed away last year and something about losing him had prompted Bo to want to try to figure out his past again. He’d taken a DNA test from one of those professional sites about a month ago, but at a cousin’s spurring had decided to start trying to follow the one lead he’d had from his appearance while he waited for the results.
Montana.
His adoptive mother was against it, so he’d asked Sam not to contact her. Which was going to put a bit of a crimp in her investigation—if she took the investigation—but it wasn’t insurmountable, not with the paper trial of Bo’s original John Doe case.
Sam could also see what she could get the police to do on the DNA front all these years later while they waited for the corporate one to come through. Either way, Sam knew of some genetic genealogists who might be able to help. DNA had come a long way in twenty years.
The Bennet brothers had submitted DNA samples to the police in the spring when a potential murder weapon had been found in their mother’s case. Would there be a match there?
She shook her head. Couldn’t get that far ahead of herself.
And she couldn’t let Nate see how antsy this made her. It reminded her too much of all the trouble that had snowballed out of Aly’s deadbeat mom showing up out of the blue this summer. Nothing good came from a random person showing up out of nowhere.
Particularly not with a murder trial set to start tomorrow.
Sam pushed back from her desk, rubbing her eyes. Too much staring at a screen, following the trail of John Doe/Bowman Lake. She had an idea of him now—no criminal record, no real trouble. Everything she’d unearthed about him matched what he’d told her.
Which still left a lot of questions. And damn if she couldn’t use a custodian. Even if it made more investigative work, stuff she’d have to pay for out of pocket. A custodian would take away the time she and Nate spent on the chore of keeping up with basic office maintenance.
She needed to call his references, make sure those were on the up and up, and then tomorrow she’d call the number he’d given her and offer him the job.
Well, she supposed she should get Nate’s approval first. She might be the boss, and own the building, and really be in charge of everything, but it didn’t feel right to make decisions like this without discussing it with Nate.
She called Bo’s references. She hadn’t expected them to be anything but good—who would put bad references on their application—but she was a little surprised. They weren’t glowing, which would have made her suspicious. They mentioned he was a little flighty, a little lazy, but there was always an odd kind of affectionate tone to it. And they all knew his story—and had wished him well in his pursuit of answers.
At least, according to them.
Sam hung up with the last reference, tapping her pencil against her desk. What were the chances this was just … on the up and up? Bo was some long-lost Bennet relative whose story they would uncover without it upending everything.
Slim to none.
She heard the back door creak open and watched as Nate strode in through the back entrance. He didn’t look any more frustrated than he had when he’d left, so that was good.
“How’d it go?”
Nate shrugged. That edge from this morning was still there—in the way he held himself, in the way his eyes didn’t quite have that normal focus about them. “Cal said it was good. Vanderbilt’s good. The case is strong. He seemed … steadier after it. So, it was good to go over it all, get a better sense of the timeline. The police will be the first line of questioning after opening remarks, so we’re just spectating tomorrow.”
“Good.” She could press on that, because whatever had made Cal steadier hadn’t made Nate any steadier. “Did you tell them…”
Nate shook his head. “Not yet.”
Sam didn’t argue with him over that. Maybe he should tell his family about a mysterious look-alike, but if the situation was reversed, she sure as hell wouldn’t want to. Not in the midst of all this.
And she wasn’t going to push him on the conversation, ask if it was okay to hire him, so…
She got to her feet. “You ready to go see that house?”
“Yeah. We can walk.”
“That close?”
“I figured if I’m not taking up Landon and Aly’s offer to live at the ranch, I ought to have a reason better than it weirds me the fuck out. I know Landon’s nothing like Dad, but he looks so much like him being there is like weird flashes of an altered past. Being able to walk to work is a decent reason they won’t question.”
“I happen to recommend it, though in the winter I’d suggest living in the same building.” She gestured to the ceiling, her apartment above them.
“Well, unless you’ve got a hidden extra room up there, guess I’ll have to go this route.”
Which was a joke and certainly shouldn’t feel … awkward. There was very little space up there. Just enough for her.
And he’d never ventured inside. It would be too weird if he did.
Why?
Definitely not the time to wade into that mental landmine. They walked out the front, Nate waiting for her with his hands shoved into his pockets while she locked the door. Then they walked through the chill, the encroaching dark.
“Maybe I miscalculated on the walking thing,” Nate grumbled, flipping the collar of his coat up to cover his neck.
“I like it.”
He slid her a disgusted glance. “You’re a masochist.”
She laughed. He smiled. It was nice. Just a normal, frigid evening walk.
But nothing could erase what came tomorrow. Sam knew that. Even this step Nate was taking, looking into buying a house here. It didn’t change that the next few weeks were going to be a mental and emotional gauntlet.
Nothing would.
Nate stopped in front of a little house with a Realtor sign in the yard. There was a running car parked in front. The engine turned off and a middle-aged woman stepped out. The sun was setting behind Copper Mountain, putting the neighborhood in a pretty golden light.
“Nate. Good to see you again.” The woman held out her hand for Nate to shake. Her gaze turned to Sam.
“This is my friend, Sam,” he introduced gruffly.
The Realtor shook her hand too. “You run the private investigator business here in town, don’t you? Where Nate works?”
Sam nodded. “That’s me.”
“Well, let me show you guys around.” She walked briskly up the stairs leading to the front door.
She talked about landscaping, the updates the current owners had done. She led them through the house. It was a cute place, and Sam thought it would actually suit Nate. It was small enough for one person, but the responsibility of taking care of space—house, lawn, et cetera would be good for him. Settling.
Nate didn’t ask any questions, so Sam did it for him. She’d bought the Honor’s Edge building with her dad’s help, so she knew what was important to know. Had there been any inspections, how old was the roof, the plumbing. Things like that.
The Realtor was cheerful and efficient and answered most of the questions in a way Sam figured was a positive. But even after the showing was done and the Realtor was leading them back outside, Nate said nothing.
“So, what are we thinking?” She looked from Nate to Sam.
“Oh, it’s not a we,” Sam said, trying not to sound as awkward as she felt. “I’m just a friend … helping out.”
“It’s a nice place,” Nate said without any inflection to his tone, his hands deep in his coat pockets. “I’ll just need to … take some time to think about it.”
“Of course. You’ve got my contact information. Now, this is a popular location, so it might not be on the market forever. The sellers are very motivated.”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll … think about it quick.”
Sam could feel his indecision. It sat over him like a cloud as they stepped back out into the frigid night. Fully dark now except for streetlights and stars.
They said their goodbyes to the Realtor, started walking back. It was even colder now in the full dark and Sam hunched in her coat. Nate didn’t say anything, and while Sam was comfortable in a silence, she felt the need to remind him.
Well, it didn’t have to all happen at once. “I know Aunt Lisa’s raising the rent on you, but maybe now isn’t the time to make big buying decisions. It’s a great house, but if you’re not ready to commit, you’re not ready. No harm, no foul. There will be other houses.”
“When’s going to be the time, Sam?” He shook his head, powering forward at a pace that required her much shorter legs to work twice as hard. “It’s just one thing after another around here.”
She couldn’t argue with that. It certainly had been bludgeon after bludgeon since she’d brought him back to Marietta. “I guess you could make a case for blaming me for that.”
She felt his gaze, but she didn’t want to meet it, so she kept looking ahead as they walked.
“I’m glad to be home, Sam,” he said in that straightforward way of his that felt like gentleness. “Regardless.”
They made it back to the office. She could feel the edginess waving off him. The house. The trial. The guy from this morning. One or all three weighing on him. And she wanted to … fix it somehow, even knowing she couldn’t.
“Wanna go grab a drink? I’ll even drive, since you’re so sensitive to the cold.”
He chuckled, which was gratifying. “Better not. Be a little too tempted to have a lot more than one, and I’m guessing hungover and irritable isn’t going to help anything tomorrow, even if I don’t get called up to the stand just yet.”
“What about some pie?” She gestured toward Main Street, wanting to offer something. She’d seen Nate go through the wringer, but he’d always handled it with that shield, that stoicism.
It was cracking and it worried her.
He didn’t answer right away.
“I know what it’s like, remember?” she said softly. “I was doing this fifteen years ago. Hoping for different results, yeah, but the waiting is the worst part. The day in and day out with no concrete answers until there is one. And we’re only getting started. Nothing wrong with trying to take your mind off the wait.”
He looked at her, just outside of Honor’s Edge, the lights inside illuminating them there on the street. He didn’t say anything. He studied her in that way he had. The way that she thought was thinking about whatever his problem was but inevitably turned into something … charged.
It was the only word for it. Something about that eye contact would make her lungs feel … tighter, like she didn’t quite have room for a full breath because something else existed in her chest. A fluttering, nagging feeling.
Yeah, these moments cropped up at odd times, but they ignored them. She didn’t think she was alone in the occasional stray thought. Not anymore.
But something sat between them—a line neither knew how to cross. Maybe that was just friendship. Respect. Maybe she should appreciate it. Protect it.
But she thought … that might change when he angled a little closer instead of his usual away. Oh, it wouldn’t be good. It would be to distract or born of some screwed-up thing inside of him—or the both of them.
But reason didn’t always park itself in the driver’s seat. So she didn’t move or change the subject. She didn’t step into the shoes of being the mature person.
She stayed where she was, held his gaze, and held her breath wondering which one of them would finally have the guts to cross that line.
The phone in his pocket trilled and they both jumped.
Sam couldn’t feel embarrassed if Mister Former Army Ranger jumped too. And cleared his throat. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and frowned at the screen.
“It’s Cal.”
“You should take it.”
Because neither one of them needed to cross any lines tonight. Not with all that weighed heavy on the both of them.
He gave a curt nod, lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey.” His gaze moved from her to the night around them. “I’m not sure the Wolf’s Den is such a good idea.”
Sam couldn’t hear Cal’s side of the conversation, but Nate’s gaze came back to hers.
“I’m … with Sam,” he said.
And they just looked at each other. None of all this feeling dissipating.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. Then he hung up and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Cal wants us to meet him at the Wolf Den.”
“Us?”
“He’s looking for company.” Nate shrugged. “You don’t have to come, but…”
“But you two need a babysitter.”
His mouth curved very wryly. “Maybe. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Friends. A good line to have. She smiled. It was all better than being alone anyway. “Yeah, it is.”
Chapter Four
The Wolf’s Den
Cal could have had a few drinks up at the ranch. In fact, he’d started to pour himself one in his little apartment area off the main house.
Then he’d felt a little too much like Dad. Alone and drinking felt like a slow slide into a place he didn’t want to be. Into a person he didn’t want to be—even if he didn’t know the person he wanted to be anymore. Ruling things out seemed like a good step in that direction anyway.
But he’d still needed a damn drink, a damn distraction.
So, he’d rounded up some company. Company that wouldn’t give him that itch that Landon and Aly did. Not a bad itch. Not a dissociative trauma itch. Just a … don’t you two know that good things never work out kind of itch.
He wanted things to work out for them. God knew those two deserved it. But what did deserve matter in this life?
Nate understood that. And Nate was alone too.
Well, not alone. Sam was something like a complicated shadow. But it didn’t feel so much like third wheeling hanging out with them. Not like it did with the engaged couple up at the ranch.
Close, but not quite.
Nate and Sam stepped into the dark room of the bar. Cal watched them carefully. He found the two of them an intriguing puzzle—much more interesting than any other puzzle that currently occupied his brain.
They spent a lot of time together. He thought there were a lot of longing glances involved. But considering they were both unattached, reasonable adults, he couldn’t understand all that … tension.
Sure, Sam was technically Nate’s boss, but this wasn’t some corporation with an HR department. So, he didn’t understand why they just didn’t sleep together and get it over with.
He raised his nearly empty glass as they approached. “Head start.”
“I didn’t realize you’d called me from the bar,” Nate said, sliding onto the stool next to him. Sam surprised him by taking the other one next to him, rather than over by Nate.
He was flanked.
Sam shrugged out of her coat, leaned across the bar to be heard by the bartender.
Cal had never given Sam Price much of a thought prior to this summer. Landon and Aly had nursed their whole feud with her since Sam’s dad had been arrested for killing Mom, but Cal had never really had any feelings about her one way or another. Maybe that had been easy because he hadn’t lived here.
But suddenly he was here in Montana a lot, and Sam Price was in his orbit a lot of that time too. So he noticed.
She was one of those women who somehow used swagger and confidence and a straightforwardness to appear … taller than she really was. But she was short, an interesting compact body. She was straightforward, all sharp angles and direct stares and words.
Not his type—he’d always liked something a little soft—but interesting, nonetheless. And part of that interest was at least partially motivated by how much Nate would not like it. He looked over at his brother now, who was indeed scowling. So he flashed Nate a grin.
Nate pretended like he didn’t notice. But he noticed. Which improved Cal’s mood considerably.
“So, Sam, you talk to the lawyer?”
“Yeah, few days back. He doesn’t want to get too far off track by bringing my old investigation into it, just focus on certain pieces. Then obviously my role this spring.”
“You got an idea of when you’ll go up?” Nate asked Cal as the bartender put Nate’s and Sam’s drinks in front of them.
Cal shook his head. “Depends. They really want to solidify the crime itself before they delve into the background. It’s a solid move. Make sure the jury understands the severity, the violence, the personal nature of the crime, then slowly build up the identity of the victim. That’s where we’ll come in. It’ll take some time to get there. Mr. Vanderbilt is thorough.”
