Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

B elle sat down near the head of the table, one of her favorite blank notebooks in front of her. This one had a sloth on the multi-colored cover, and he rested in a hammock. It made her smile, and while Belle might take a few notes on paper, she rarely ever referenced them again.

Still, as an investigator, everyone took notes, and Belle didn’t want to be left out. The man next to her clicked his pen in and then out again, in and out again. The noise grated on Belle’s nerves, because the atmosphere in the conference room here at the Sheriff’s Office carried more tension than ever.

Whispers of new assignments had been flying for weeks, and Belle really didn’t want to be taken off missing persons. Of course, this was what they did here in Teton County. Detectives usually worked in one department for five years, and then they rotated to something else. Sex crimes. Narcotics. Homicide.

As far as assignments went, Belle had drawn a pretty sweet stick. She also hadn’t been in this position for quite five years. So maybe she’d be fine.

“All right,” Ben Barlow boomed as he walked into the room, his big barrel chest preceding him. He wore a houndstooth jacket that strained across his shoulders, and his tie flapped against the buttons of his bright blue shirt.

“Find a seat,” he said. “We’ve got our cameras set up too, so please, let’s raise hands to speak today, both in-person and online.”

Belle glanced up to the wall, where a blue screen sat. A moment later, it blinked to life, showing five people who’d dialed in for today’s meeting.

Belle only knew one of them, and even then, she only recognized Tyson Forrest’s name. He’d been undercover now for what felt like a year, maybe longer, and Belle recognized the strain around his eyes as someone who didn’t get enough sleep.

She saw the same look on her face sometimes.

Ben hated meetings, and he kept things moving at a crisp click. He went over advancements that had been earned, and Belle clapped alongside everyone else. Her department really was very small, and as she looked around, she realized how out of place she felt.

How out of place she was. Probably ninety percent of the people in the room were men, and everything about her very presence felt wrong .

She cleared her throat and swallowed, trying to get the self-depreciating thoughts to go too.

Ben-the-Sheriff moved on to department reassignments, and her name never got said. Relief pulled through her, though a twinge of disappointment did too. She didn’t understand the warring emotions inside her.

“And now,” Ben said. “We’re going to hear a quick report from each of our undercover officers.” He sat down, and Tyson himself moved on the screen.

He unmuted himself and gave everyone a smile. “It’s good to see you guys,” he said, and Belle’s sympathy for the man doubled. For all of them who sacrificed everything in their lives—literally everything—all in the name of justice.

He quickly outlined the casino where he’d been implanted as an employee in the hopes of infiltrating a supposed and suspected money laundering ring. And oh, it existed. He knew about it. He contributed to it. And he’d been brought in.

“But they have women run the money,” he said. “Women and children.”

Disgust ran through Belle, and murmurs of the same filled the room among the officers and detectives there.

“Recommendations?” Ben asked.

“A female undercover officer,” he said wearily. “It feels like moving backward, but I’m not going to be able to ever get in that van. I’m never going to know who they’re handing the money to.”

“Someone in Canada, I’m sure,” someone in the room said .

“We know that, yes,” Tyson said. “We suspect the Mazetti Family, which would be huge, of course.”

An Italian crime family? Laundering money out of a casino in sleepy Wyoming? Yeah, that would be huge.

The next undercover officer gave their report and recommendation, and Ben went around to everyone. Belle had sat in these meetings before, and she looked to him to nominate officers for any new positions outside of the transfers he’d already made.

“Belle?”

“Hmm?” she answered without thinking. She blinked, coming back to herself. Had she missed something? A question meant for her? A missing persons case?

She glanced over to the men across the table from her. They stared back, sober expressions on their faces.

She threw another look to Ben. “I’m sorry,” she said, going straight for the truth. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking if you’re ready for an undercover assignment.” He nodded to the five officers on the screen behind him. “Tyson needs a woman at the Buffalo and Bison Casino.”

Belle’s breath left her body, and she opened her mouth to respond. But no words came. No answer.

“Take the weekend,” Ben said. “Curt? I’m thinking of you for the minority training.”

How he moved on so quickly stunned Belle. She was still reeling from being asked to go undercover. Or even thought of .

Images of her trio of cats ran through her mind. She’d have to get rid of those. Anything that identified her as Belle Graves would have to go.

She sucked in a breath, but no one seemed to notice.

Belle made it through the rest of the meeting, and Ben said, “Belle, I’ve got a folder for you to help you make your decision.”

“Okay,” she said, and she followed the Sheriff back to his office to get it.

“Really,” he said as he handed her the thickest folder she’d ever seen in her life. “Take your time. Even if you said yes right now, it would take us weeks to get you in. Probably longer.”

She nodded, her throat so narrow.

He nodded her out of the office and someone else went in as she left. She couldn’t even imagine being Ben, with his revolving door of appointments, all the personnel here, any of it.

She liked her little corner of the world, and her cozy house, and her felines.

And one Harry Young.

If Belle went undercover, she’d have to cut off all contact with Harry.

Friday night found her sitting on her couch, her guitar in her arms for the third or fourth time this week. She couldn’t remember when she’d played so much, but music had a special way of soothing the craggly and ragged pieces of her soul. It helped to flatten her thoughts and give her clarity to her life.

She’d called her parents and talked to her father about going undercover. They didn’t want her to do it, of course. Neither her mother nor her father liked that she was in law enforcement at all.

She’d spoken to her boss in the missing person’s department, and while no one would outright tell her what to do, she had gotten some good advice.

Could be good for your career , Larry had said.

You’re a smart woman, Belle , her mother had said. We trust you.

God will guide you. Okay, so that was Belle’s pastor who’d said that, a couple of weeks ago. But she believed it, and it was good advice.

Belle’s fingers moved over the strings, the beautiful sounds coming from her instrument weaving through her and calming her pulse. Her Friday night online date with Harry would start in half an hour, and she’d gotten a text from him mere moments ago about how her dinner had been ordered and would be there soon.

Belle closed her eyes and opened her mouth. She had an earthy, almost grungy sound to her voice. At least that was what the music producers in Nashville had told her. Something rougher than Carrie Underwood could offer, something more authentic, something grounded.

Despite not playing for years, Belle’s fingers knew right where to move. She had an instinct about where to insert her voice and when to let the guitar carry the load. Her heartbeat slowed in time with the chords, and she sang through a song she’d written for her album-that-never-came-to-be almost a decade ago now.

She’d just finished the last note and could still hear the reverberations singing through her house when the doorbell rang.

Harry had asked her for what she liked to eat, which restaurant he should order from for their video-phone date that evening, and she’d told him to “surprise me.”

So her pulse picked up speed as she got to her feet, set aside her guitar, and headed for the door. She opened it to find the delivery driver already walking back to his car.

“Thank you,” she called to him, and he smiled over his shoulder. Belle stepped down onto her stoop and picked up the plastic bag. It had been tied at the top, with a big red sticker for the delivery service so she’d know it hadn’t been tampered with.

“Smells like Chinese,” she said, a wide smile on her face as she went back inside.

Food always brought out the felines, and Belle wasn’t shocked to find Flower, Mister Miles, and even Bing coming into the kitchen.

White Chinese containers indeed sat in the bag, along with a clamshell container of eggrolls and sweet and sour sauce.

Belle unloaded them all, exclaiming things like, “Oh, I love this cashew chicken,” and “Mm, guys, look. It’s that ham fried rice we like. ”

She normally didn’t think herself too pathetic for talking to her cats, and she didn’t tonight either. Her phone rang, and Belle’s stomach swooped at the sight of Harry’s name sitting there.

The Harry Young.

She almost felt like she’d fallen into a dream. Who had a famous country music star calling them for a Friday-night phone date?

Maybe another celebrity, but Belle was anything but famous. She did pick up and swipe on her phone. “Hey,” she said. “I thought we were doing a video chat.”

“I’ve joined twice,” Harry said. “You’re late, Miss Belle.” He carried plenty of teasing in his voice, and Belle looked at the clock on her microwave.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said. “I wasn’t even paying attention to the time.” She bustled out of the kitchen, then turned back to her cats. “You guys don’t touch any of that.”

Then she hurried over to the computer desk in the corner of her living room and woke the machine. “My food just got here,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Who were you talking to just now?” he asked, a low chuckle following. “Dogs or cats?”

“Cats,” she said. “And they happen to love ham fried rice as much as I do.” The real question became: How did Harry know?

“Shoot,” she said next, trying to stay in the moment instead of in her mind. “I see the missed calls. Try again. I’m on now.”

Harry was as technological as he was handsome, and within five seconds, her computer rang at her. Belle knew enough to move her mouse to the green phone button and click it.

The video connected, the screen going dark for a moment, and then Harry’s brilliance lighting up her corner of Wyoming. Everything inside her tensed for one awful moment, and then she sagged back into her chair at the sight of him.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, but she only heard him through her phone.

“Not on the computer,” she said, once again sitting up. “Let me fiddle with my volume.”

His mouth moved, and it created a weird vortex to see that but hear him through the phone, and Belle managed to get the volume up as he finished with, “…could be on my end.”

“Nope,” she said, getting a little reverb. “I can hear you now.”

“I’m gonna hang up then.” He grinned and then touched to end the call. Belle’s phone went dark, but her computer made up for it.

She also had no idea what to say. She didn’t want to run her job past him. She couldn’t. Even if she took the undercover job, her parents wouldn’t say anything to anyone.

But she was still getting to know Harry, and as a general rule, Belle didn’t trust very many people from the get-go.

“You don’t have your food,” he said as he chopsticked up a bite of Lo mein. “Is it there? I swear I got a notification that it was delivered.”

Another bout of adrenaline shot Belle out of her chair and propelled her back to the kitchen. She seriously needed to calm down a little bit. Thankfully, her cats hadn’t touched the food, and she noisily got out a plate and piled everything onto it as she said, “I got it. I just hadn’t gotten it plated yet.”

She had to shout from across the room, and a fine film of sweat broke out on her forehead. Big breath , she coached herself, and she managed to get over to the computer again with everything in one trip.

Harry gaped at her, then his smile grew and grew and grew. Belle wiped her hair out of her face. “What?”

“That was impressive,” he said. “You had everything balanced on that one plate.”

She whipped the fork out of her pocket where she’d stowed it. “Didn’t forget this either.”

“Boo,” he said good-naturedly. “Didn’t it come with chopsticks?”

“I try not to embarrass myself so early in a relationship,” she said.

Harry sobered slightly, and then he said, “I guess we are still kind of in the early stages, aren’t we?”

“I mean, I think so,” she said. “We’ve only been out once.”

“Mm, no.” He took a bite and chewed quickly. His chopsticks seemed made for his hands, and Belle marveled at how he was so good at literally everything. “We had three dates on Monday alone.”

“Okay, whatever,” she said, grinning at him .

“And the wedding,” he said. “That counts.”

Belle just shook her head and tonged a piece of chicken with a cashew on it. “This is literally my favorite place in town.”

“Yeah, that’s what Larry said.”

Belle froze and lifted her eyes to his. “You called my boss?”

“Dang it.” Harry looked like he’d been hit with a taser. “I wasn’t going to tell you that.”

Her heart felt too big for her chest cavity. “What else did Larry say?” She didn’t talk about her love life at the office. Of course, she’d never had one to talk about before either.

Still, Belle was very private.

Which is why the undercover job would be good for you , she thought. She hated that such things just popped into her mind, unbidden. At the same time, she wondered if it might be God, trying to whisper the things she should do.

Perhaps the undercover assignment was the right thing. She would have to rehome her cats, and then…walk away. She didn’t have tons of close friends who would wonder where she went. Her private life made it easy for her to disappear for a while.

“Nothing much,” Harry said. “I was straight to the point.”

“Mm, sure,” Belle said. “Someone as busy and important as you probably does.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Did you name-drop?” Belle teased .

“Is it name-dropping if it’s your own name?” He cocked his eyebrows, clearly challenging her.

“Of course it is,” she said, enjoying herself far more than she’d anticipated. “Did you do it?”

“I mean, I identified myself and said I was sending you dinner, and might he happen to know your favorite place in town?” He took a bite with a tree of broccoli, and she wanted to take a screenshot and send it to his momma so she knew he ate veggies sometimes.

“And he just gave it to you?”

“He asked a few questions,” Harry admitted.

Belle didn’t even want to know. Rather, she did, but she didn’t want this date to be about this. Larry would likely tell her in the morning. Or he wouldn’t. He was a low-drama boss, and he didn’t get too involved in his employees’ lives.

“Is that your guitar?” Harry asked next, and Belle whipped around again. Pretzels and cheese, she’d left her guitar on the couch. In plain sight.

“Yes,” she said slowly.

“You said you didn’t play anymore.”

“I do....” She swung back toward the computer and considered him, wondering how much to tell. Then she reminded herself she was on her fifth date with this man, and it was okay to open up about some personal things. “When I’m a little stressed.”

“Oh, boy.” Harry gave her a soft smile. “What has you stressed, my Belle?”

Her high school French was rusty, but she remembered what ma belle meant .

My beautiful.

Her throat closed, because she couldn’t truly tell him about the thick file folder she’d thankfully pushed to the corner of the desk, out of sight.

“Just work,” she said.

“You said you didn’t get transferred.”

She took another bite of chicken, chewed, and swallowed. “I didn’t,” she said. “But things are still moving and shaking, and I just feel…unsettled.”

“I hate feeling like that,” Harry said. “I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s fine. Let’s talk about something better. How’s the song-writing going?”

“Oh, that’s not better.” He raised both hands and waved them. “No work talk. There has to be something else we can talk about.”

Belle searched her mind, another round of adrenaline elevating her pulse once again when nothing came forward. “I have three cats?”

Harry burst out laughing, and that made Belle giggle too. Hearing that sound…it felt like someone had tipped open her roof and poured just a little bit of magic into her life on a day when she really really needed some fairy dust.