Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

NEIL

It had been five days since that kiss on the porch and a week since the storm, but the evidence of both still circled me. For some reason, Connor was staying away, and it confused me, irritated me, and left me relieved at the same time.

The storm's powerful impact remained, particularly to the west of town. The roads bore the brunt of the damage, and the crew from Wyoming Roads and Highways were out fixing whatever they deemed an emergency, which meant the main road out of the town was blocked. Drivers had to take a detour that extended their journey from one mile to fifteen miles, and the office phone never stopped ringing with complaints about the inconvenience. There wasn't much I could do as sheriff except reassure people that everything was scheduled as much as possible, considering how badly other towns had been hit.

If I wasn't avoiding the phones, I was avoiding anywhere Connor might be. This meant no visits to the diner and no decent breakfast or coffee, leading to one grumpy sheriff. It was shit that I didn't see him, and I still couldn't get him or his kisses out of my head. What was wrong with the man?

I was the sheriff who kept everything in order. But Connor? He was chaos incarnate, and right now, I needed control.

Which is something I didn't have whenever Mom called.

"I get that, Mom," I said for the tenth time in this conversation. Dad was ornery—her words, not mine. He couldn't understand why he couldn't drive to visit his buddy Clive in Collier Springs.

Clive, who'd died five years ago.

"I don't know what to do…" She started to cry, and my heart hurt for her and my dad, but in a different way. He and I might not have been close, but I was his family, and it hurt that he was slowly becoming less than he wanted to be. "I don't know how to stop him from leaving!"

"All the doors are locked, right?"

"Of course, I'm a prisoner in my own home!" Mom snapped and then sobbed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. This isn't on you."

"It's okay, Mom, I love you. Have you tried putting on M*A*S*H ?"

"That was the first thing."

"What about his phone?"

"It's charging. I can give it to him in a moment."

"That will help. "

"It's at fifty-three percent. Is that enough?"

"Sure, Mom." I made a mental note to buy some backup phones so this charging issue wouldn't happen again.

"It's not fair, Neil. We were supposed to travel."

When Dad retired, they'd talked about traveling and seeing the world, but then he'd fallen ill, and everything had been downhill from that point on. It broke my heart to see him so old and infirm and Mom so broken.

"I know, Mom. I'm sorry, I have to go, but I'll check in with you at lunchtime, okay? As soon as I can."

"Okay, sweetie, I'm sorry I called. I just…"

"It's okay, Mom. You can always call me anytime."

My cell vibrated, and a message from Connor lit the screen on my work-issued phone. It was for people to contact me about the job, not about whatever fresh hell he was doing.

Connor: Morning Sheriff. Long time no see.

Connor: One beer?

Connor: Maybe nachos?

Connor: I won't touch you.

Connor: Unless you want me to

Neil: This is a work phone.

Neil: Stop messaging this number.

Connor: One beer, and I'll stop

Neil: N o

I waited with morbid fascination for another message, but nothing came through, and even that pissed me off.

Fuck, it was as if he had no respect for my position at all. He lived only to mess with my town's rules and my carefully maintained boundaries, and now he was pushing it with me. I still had outstanding paperwork on the Abraham Wild rifle case, which wasn't going away soon, even though Abraham wasn't pressing charges. Not to mention, I still felt anger when I imagined the landslide at the ranch swallowing Connor whole because he'd been an idiot.

Anger. Frustration.

Lust.

But damn, the way he had held me, the way he'd touched me. At that moment, he'd owned me. The kiss was fierce and consuming, a force of nature matching the storm outside. It was as if all the pent-up frustration and tension between us had exploded into that one electrifying moment. His lips were demanding, his grip possessive, and I felt a spark I'd never experienced.

And then I'd kissed him back like some horny teenager by the bike racks after school.

I couldn't forget the feel of his body against mine, the taste of him, and how he made me lose control. The attraction I felt for Connor was undeniable, a pull to the danger in him I couldn't rationalize away. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw and felt him, which drove me crazy. The intensity of that kiss lingered, a constant reminder of our raw connection. Connor had gotten under my skin, and despite my efforts to push it aside, the memory of that kiss kept resurfacing, leaving me confused and unsettled.

"… I said I wanted to sue them for lost time. Can I do that?"

I'd been half listening to Gary Thompson, who'd spent ten minutes on the phone complaining about the detour around town. He had a point, but his constant whining started grating on my nerves after the first minute.

"I'm not a lawyer, Mr. Thompson. I suggest you call someone in Collier Springs to see if they can help."

He huffed and sighed, and I hoped the blustering would calm. He might threaten to sue the county, but would he follow through?

"I'll do that, Sheriff," he concluded after a prolonged pause.

"Goodbye, Mr. Thompson."

The door opened as soon as the call ended, as if the person outside had waited for me to finish the damn call. Bessie flew in like her ass was on fire.

Seeing my sister so flustered could only mean one thing, and I was already standing.

"Is it Dad?" I asked, but she shook her head and settled herself in the opposite chair, and I sat down again. "I just thought… Mom called, saying he wanted to see Clive." I didn't mean to mention that to make Bessie feel guilty, but she flushed and dipped her head.

"I'm sorry she called you. I know I was on the list to help Mom today, but she insists on calling you with everything now you're the man of the house ." Her sigh was filled with frustration. "I can't stop her. "

"It's okay, sis. I meant nothing by it. I can handle it." Sometimes.

"I need you to do me a huge favor," she began without hesitation.

"You want to sue someone as well?" I deadpanned.

Her eyes widened. "What? No."

"Then what? Is everything okay?"

"You know how Jason is your favorite nephew…"

"He's my only nephew, sis."

She quirked a smile. "Well, it would help if you took Jason on for a week of work experience."

What? No. "I don't?—"

"Neil, please."

"—have the manpower," I finished, and she stared at me.

"A week," she pleaded. Her tone was desperate and determined, and she was shouldering Mom's worries as much as me in her own way, not to mention she had a family and held down a full-time job. At least I was single, so it was easy to assume I had free time.

Even if work consumed me.

"He's a good kid, and I need him to…" She sighed with extra drama. "He's always in his room."

"Teenagers live in their room."

"He didn't used to."

"He turned seventeen, it's a thing," I reminded her.

Jason was a typical teenager—loud and opinionated about all kinds of things, but then just as quickly glued to his phone for hours. We used to be best buddies, but that was when I was the cool uncle. Then, overnight, he became moody and uncommunicative, and I was waiting for him to get through to the other side and back to being the nephew who wanted to talk to me. I tried to connect with him at family dinners and school events. Still, I remember being seventeen, albeit without the added pressure of a phone and social media, and the last thing I wanted then was adults getting in my space.

Bessie crossed her arms and pouted. "He's seventeen, Connor. He's applying to colleges. This could be good for him, give him a sense of responsibility."

"Yeah, but does he even want to do this?" I countered. "He likes computers and games," I added, recalling what he'd told me and Connor. I waited for her to defend him, but hell, there was no defending a teenager when you got to be as old as we were. What happened when I was in my thirties meant I was worried about connecting with my town's youth.

"He needs structure. You know how smart he is, but he lacks direction. He respects you, Neil," she insisted, "and it would get him out of the house when I have Mom and Dad over."

Damn it, she played the ace.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "And what am I supposed to do with him? I've got road repairs causing chaos, a new deputy-in-training who I'm about to lose, another deputy retiring, and three minor investigations sitting on my desk, not to mention so much paperwork after the storm I could fill this room."

And Connor, with his kisses and his chaos.

"I want to help but…"

Bessie sighed and then leaned forward, a glint in her eye. "Remember when you switched salt for the sugar the day before Mom was baking for the church sale?"

I groaned, the memory flashing vividly in my mind. Those salty cakes were still the talk of the town, and Mom had never understood how she'd managed to mix the two things up. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would … unless you give me this for Jason," she threatened, smirking.

I threw my hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, you win. Jason can get some experience here."

"Starting tomorrow?"

I hesitated and then sighed. "Not tomorrow but I'll fix things and let you know, okay?"

Bessie beamed, her victory complete. "You won't regret this, Neil."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, shaking my head. "If he's anything like you were, I'm in for a world of trouble. And don't forget it was you encouraging me to switch out the sugar."

She laughed, the sound bringing a rare moment of lightness between us when we'd usually be talking about Dad. Still, we were a family expert in denial, and we were fraying at the seams.

I watched her leave, the weight of her request settling on my shoulders. Jason Thompson, nephew and current grumpy-ass teen in my office. Just what I need.

I flicked through documents, bemoaning the bureaucracy that kept me cooped up in the office and stressing over what I could have in place for Jason. I wanted to get outside, to feel the fresh air, tackle something tangible, or at least get a coffee. The endless paperwork was enough to drive anyone crazy.

Thank God the phone rang. The worst part was that I'd take a local complaining about the roads over the forms, and I picked it up, grateful for the distraction. "Sheriff."

"It's Levi up at the Lennox Ranch. Can you get up here? The geotechnical engineer surveying the land has a drone out, and they've found something. They won't let us near whatever they found but wanted me to call you in."

"Is there a danger to the town?" I was already up from my desk, but specifics would at least let me form a plan.

"He said it's not about the slip, but he won't show me or Micah the footage."

A mystery, and one that was anything but paperwork. "On my way."

I ended the call, feeling a surge of relief and curiosity. Finally, something would get me out of this office. Grabbing my hat and keys, I was eager to see what the engineer had discovered and why it was so urgent that they needed the sheriff. I headed out of my office and into the main area, where Solomon was hunched over his desk.

"Solomon, I'm heading out to the Lennox Ranch. Levi just called. Engineers found something, and they need me there," I said. "What time is Wyatt on call?" I asked, already knowing the answer but needing confirmation.

"An hour," Solomon replied, glancing up from a pile of hellish paperwork almost as big as mine .

"Get him in early to cover the office, and when he's here, get him to clear the desk at the back of the file room."

Solomon raised an eyebrow. "The junk desk? What's Wyatt going to do with the junk?"

I sighed, glancing around the cluttered office. "He'll find somewhere—call it a training exercise on using ingenuity. Jason will be joining us for work experience and will need a place to work."

Solomon's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. "Got it, Sheriff."

I almost made it to the door. "Sheriff?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate to ask, but could you run a welfare check on Abe at some point? Maybe in the morning?"

"You can always ask, and of course, I'll prioritize it for tomorrow."

"Thank you."

With that promise made, I headed out to my car.

In the SUV heading up to the ranch, Connor and Abraham were two issues I could push to one side, and instead, I had to deal with a slight sense of dread about what I might find at the ranch. I hoped it wasn't that the landslip was threatening the town somehow, although I couldn't see how it would.

As I pulled up to the Lennox Ranch, I saw someone standing by the cars, looking anxious. I guessed this was the geotechnical engineer. He was a tall man dressed in practical outdoor gear; his expression serious as he waved me over .

"Sheriff Windham?" he asked as I approached, and we shook hands. "Dr. Reese. EarthTech Soil Solutions."

"What have you found?" I asked, my curiosity piqued but my chest tight at what he might say about erosion or slippage. Whisper Ridge was a good community; neither our town nor Collier Springs deserved a mountain sliding down on them.

Pessimism alert.

He seemed edgy—not as if he was going to deliver bad news, but that whatever he'd seen had spooked him.

"I was conducting a preliminary survey, and ... well, look." He held up a tablet, showing me footage from a drone. The video was clear as the drone circled the area, and I saw the total damage of the landslide, the scar black against the green of the wild meadows that had once been on either side of the boulders and the stream. Then he paused at one specific spot and zoomed in as best he could. The clarity diminished, and instead, the screen displayed a grainy image of what appeared to be luggage scattered at the base of the central hole. Among them was something else that made my blood run cold—holy shit, it looked like bones.

"We found these just beyond the ridge," the engineer explained. "It's likely nothing, y'know. We've seen this before from animal remains, but there are the suitcases. We didn't want to disturb anything until you got here."

I studied the footage, my mind racing. I'd seen bones unearthed in excavations on properties, some from a slip in the graveyard when I was no older than five. I recalled seeing them yellowed, not the white I'd imagined, and I wondered about the last things the animals or humans had seen. My mum called it my creative side, and my dad patted me on the back and said I'd make an excellent sheriff one day.

Sheriff won out. I was as creative as a brick wall.

"Probably animal," I said.

"Sure." He nodded as if he was happy to go along with that assessment, or maybe he was convincing himself of it, as I was. "I instructed my team not to go any closer without your go-ahead."

"How many are on your team?"

"Three. Will and Anna are waiting at the scene with the property owner, Mr. Lennox."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on my shoulders. Micah was up there already—what did he know about what the engineers found? "All right. Show me exactly where this is."

I called it in to Solomon, my voice steady despite the churn of thoughts in my head. Lewis was off duty—Wyatt was my only remaining deputy. "Dispatch, I need you to get Wyatt up here to join me at the Lennox Ranch and ensure he brings all our evidence bags and gloves. Hell, tell him to bring the whole kit from the list."

"I got it, Sheriff," Solomon replied with curiosity in his tone, but now wasn't the time to explain.

I grabbed the roll of caution tape from my SUV and headed up with Doctor Reese to the site. As I approached, I saw Micah to one side, finishing a call. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring into the distance with a troubled expression. It must be unsettling to have people crawling all over the property. Though in the light of day, while the damage was extensive, it was far from the main ranch house and not in any direction that would affect the town.

I acknowledged Micah with a nod. "Hey, Micah. How are you holding up?"

He shrugged, still staring into the distance. "Could be better."

I gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and after the engineer assured me the ground there was safe, I crouched as close to the edge as I could.

Twenty feet down, I could see two cases. They looked old, with no wheels, possibly leather, and half-rotted. One of them had muddy contents escaping from it. I glanced back at the barn uphill, listing precariously. It had tape around it, marking it as a condemned building, with half missing. In the center was the distinct shape of the well, destroyed and sagging as if the entire thing had sunk into the ground.

I scanned back to the hole and the direction of the landslip. Could everything have come from the well? It seemed possible. The floodwaters might have dislodged them, sending them tumbling down the hill.

"Dr. Reese," I called out, not taking my eyes off the scene below, "is there any chance these cases could have come from that well?"

He stepped closer, peering down at me. "It's entirely possible, Sheriff. Given the direction of the slide, they could have been dislodged from there."

"And the bones?"

He shrugged as if he didn't want to commit to anything. "Animal, maybe?"

I guessed that was a question for Micah and his family over whether, in the past, animals who'd passed were pitched into the well or could have stumbled in. I doubted the first, and the well wall had been built a good five feet above the floor of an old barn.

I nodded. "All right, I'll need to secure this area and start figuring out how to retrieve those cases and what else is down there. Can your team get me down there?"

Dr. Reese was horrified. "We're not insured for that," he said. "You'll need to call in specialists."

I gestured at the rope and pulley system. "You can't use that?"

"Health and Safety, Sheriff. Can't use them for anything other than geophysical retrieval and assessment." He tilted his chin.

At last, Micah tore his gaze from the distance, but his expression was pinched, and he was pale as he checked his phone. The tension left him, and I glanced at where he was staring. Wyatt turned up with extra tape, but it wasn't my deputy he was staring at—it was Connor, who'd arrived with him.

As I secured the tape around the area, I was drawn to Connor. He was focused on Micah and led him away so they could talk privately. My suspicious side was out and proud—why would Connor be here and talking about something with Micah? His shoulders were back, but he was loose, ready to leap into action at any moment. There was an air of danger and tension radiating from him. He'd slipped into soldier mode—no, sailor mode, given he'd been a SEAL.

Connor glanced back at the surroundings with an intensity that made it clear he was assessing every possible threat, every potential piece of evidence. His muscles were coiled, as if he were ready to spring, and it was like watching a predator in its element. The storm might have passed, but standing there, Connor looked like he was preparing for a battle that could break out any second.

Moments like these reminded me just how capable he was and why he was both a thorn in my side and someone I respected. His instincts were sharp, but what the hell was he doing here?

And why did Micah tug him away?