Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

NEIL

I sat in my SUV, parked up behind the office, taking a moment to get my head straight. The morning so far weighed on me, and I needed to clear my mind before diving back into work. As I took a deep breath, I realized my nephew, Jason, was sitting on the wall outside the office, glued to his phone. Shit. Today was the day Jason was supposed to start his work experience, and I'd forgotten.

I frowned when I saw him wearing scruffy jeans and a faded torn puffer jacket, heavy boots and a purple beanie on his head. I'd assumed my sister would have made sure Jason dressed up, but then again, she'd been at Mom and Dad's place with me, so Jason would have done all of that on his own.

I took another deep breath, trying to muster the energy to deal with this. I sauntered over to Jason, who didn't even glance up from his phone. I stood there, waiting, until he finally noticed my presence

"Hi, Uncle Neil," he said and pocketed his cell .

"You're starting work today, so sheriff or sir is fine."

He blinked at me. "Uhm, okay Unc—Sir."

"What are you wearing?" I asked.

He glanced down and tugged at his coat. "Uhm … clothes?"

"Jason," I said. "Go home, dress nice, and return in twenty with three black coffees and doughnuts from the coffee shop. Tell Nancy to put it on the sheriff's bill."

He was shocked, his mouth opening and closing as he processed my demand. "What? Why do I have to change? These are my favorite jeans," he protested, staring down at his pants.

Patience . "Because you're here to work, not to hang out. Go home and put on something presentable. We have a coat you can borrow, but I want you to wear smart pants, a shirt, and your sturdy boots with steel toe caps. I know for certain you're wearing a band T under that coat. Am I wrong?" I replied, keeping my tone even.

"No, you're not, but Unc—Sheriff, this is just a few days, nothing to get dressed up for," Jason whined, clearly in full-on teenage brat mode. Sometimes, he sounded thirteen and not seventeen and thinking about colleges.

"You represent this office when you're here. Now go change," I insisted, not budging.

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but this is stupid."

"Jason," I said, my voice softening just a bit. "Go home, change, and bring back the coffee and doughnuts. Nancy will put it on the sheriff's bill."

He sighed and then stood. "All right, all right. I'll be back in twenty. "

"And leave your phone at home," I added as he started to walk away.

He shot me a skeptical look. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. You're here to work, not to scroll through social media. Trust me, you'll survive without it for a few hours."

Jason shook his head but didn't argue further. As I watched him go, I couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and responsibility. This was going to be an interesting day.

"I kinda like that hardass thing you got going on, sir ," Connor said from behind me.

I whirled to see him stepping out of the alley. My stomach swooped. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady.

Connor sauntered over, a sly grin on his face. "I've got a job and wanted to ask you some questions."

"A job for who? Quinn?" I asked, my irritation growing. "I wish you'd stop meddling in my town."

"My town, too," Connor replied, his grin widening into a challenging smirk.

We stood there in a silent standoff, tension crackling between us. I couldn't help but notice how sexy he was in his black jeans and jacket. He needed to shave, but he was rugged and dangerously appealing instead of looking disreputable. The memory of his stubble against my skin made me burn, and my erection was uncomfortable in my uniform pants.

Connor took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. I felt trapped between him and the side door into the office. My pulse quickened, and anger and desire mixed into a potent cocktail that made it hard to think straight.

I should push him away.

I need to pull him close.

"Got a PI gig, tracking down a sibling. What do you know about Ezekiel Miller?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

Miller? The bull rider who'd passed through town and then stayed a while. He'd been with LouAnne Carter for a year and, if I remembered correctly, had a cute as-a-button daughter called Hope, Charity, or something like that. LouAnne lived way out of town with her son Archie, the same Archie who was now living up at the Lennox Ranch because LouAnne was ill and in rehab. Who would hire Connor to find him, and why? Was this something to do with LouAnne and the adoption of Archie? Why didn't I know?

Why did Connor know something that I didn't?

"Who hired you?"

"Confidential." He rested a hand on the jamb behind me, and I tried to ignore his closeness and the way his voice sent shivers down my spine. The heat between us was unbearable. I could feel my anger rising at his intrusion and how my body responded to him.

"The sheriff's office cannot assist you now," I said.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to mine. The mixture of anger and desire was too much, and I shoved him away hard enough to put some space between us.

"Back off, Connor," I growled, my voice rough with frustration .

He stumbled back, surprise flashing across his face before he composed himself. "Yes, sir," he deadpanned.

I watched him walk away, the frustration and desire still churning inside me. Connor Mason was trouble, no doubt about it. But damn if he didn't make life interesting. At the last minute, he stopped and faced me.

"Later," he said.

I wasn't sure if I wanted that to be a threat or a promise.

I turned my back on Connor, the tension still crackling between us. Without another word, I headed inside, trying to shake off the frustration and confusion that seemed to cling to me whenever he was around. Solomon watched me with a concerned expression as I took off my coat.

"Neil," he said, stepping forward. "Lewis and Wyatt got called out to the Carter farm, and there are issues with wild animals."

"Again?" Everyone knew it was the Carter kids causing trouble, not animals, but their children could do no wrong as far as the Carters were concerned. Solomon shrugged in a "yeah, right" kind of way.

"Could I ask you a favor?" he asked.

I nodded, hanging up my coat. "Sure. What do you need?"

"It's Abraham," he began, worry etched into his face. "I haven't heard from him since last night, and I know he's a grown man, but could you go do another welfare check on him at some point? No rush?"

I agreed, feeling a pang of concern. "Of course. He was okay last time I visited, quiet but calm. "

"Yeah, I know. Too quiet."

"He's on my list, so I'll head there soon. Jason is with us today."

"He's already been in and filled in all the forms," Solomon advised, tapping the folder on his desk.

"He has?" I thought he'd been sitting outside on his phone waiting for me.

"Yep, eager as all get out, bouncing all over the place until I got him to sit outside and wait for you."

"When he's back, can you settle him with filing in the back room, have him with you at the front desk, and dispatch him when he's done?"

"Sure thing. I wanted—" The main phone rang, and he connected a call and interrupted whatever he was going to say. "Sheriff's office… Sure... No worries, hold, please." He handed over the receiver. "Dr. Reynolds, ME's office."

"Sheriff, hello," Xavier said, clearing his throat. "So, do you want the good news or bad news?"

Why do people say that? A flicker of irritation sparked in my head, but only because I was already irritable after Dad, plus freaking Connor messing with me. Still, that good or bad news question always felt like an unnecessary intro, as if trying to cushion the blow.

"Hey, Xavier," I said, trying to keep my impatience out of my voice. "Start with the bad."

"We can't get much from the bones just yet," he said. "It will be a few weeks before we have any substantial information. The condition of the bones is … well, it's complicated."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "What could the bones be? Any initial thoughts? "

"Given the condition and the context, they could be remains that have been there for decades. Some are animals', as I suspected. Others are human, potentially female at first glance. We're considering the possibility of a historic burial site. It's too early, but we'll update you as we know more."

Ice trickled down my spine—I'd been hoping they were all animal bones, end of story.

"Okay, and the good news?"

"I'll pass you to Tally."

"Sheriff? It's Tally Finch."

"Dr. Finch, hello. What do you have for me?" I hoped for progress with the puzzle.

"The luggage is challenging to work with," she explained. "We've got a family Bible here, but the paper is so thin that it's difficult to make sense of it without damaging it further."

I pictured her handling the delicate items, her fingers moving with precision. "What else did you find?"

"Hang on…" There was rustling, and then she cleared her throat. "Besides clothes, we also have a stick deodorant, a compact, a small piece of costume jewelry, a pair of heeled shoes, a silver photo frame, glass smashed, without photos." She paused. "Or at least the inside photo is long since decayed."

"Can you narrow anything down for me?"

"If you held a gun to my head, when you take in the fact that the garments are dresses, skirts, and so on, I'd say these are a woman's possessions, or of course, a male-to-female transition or potentially drag," she added the last bits in case I wouldn't consider them. Still, I'd already added them to my mental list. "Getting details from something buried in mud and water for so long is difficult."

"How can you find anything at all?"

"It's a painstaking process. We have to clean and preserve each item carefully. Sometimes, we use special chemicals to stabilize the materials. Other times, it's a matter of patience and a steady hand. Each piece can tell us something, even if it's just a small detail," she explained, her voice steady and focused. "These personal effects can give us clues about the person's life, but it takes time to fit it all together."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I understand. Any chance of DNA from the possessions?"

"Very unlikely."

Disappointment overwhelmed me. Shit . "Okay, can you keep me updated on any progress?"

"I've uploaded photos of what we have to a secure area. I'm sending you access now." My phone pinged with a notification.

"Thank you."

As I hung up, my mind still buzzed with questions, and I scrolled through the photos. The bible was promising if there was any chance it had a name somewhere that could be retrieved. The photo frame was a possible clue. But whether the luggage and its contents were connected to the bones? Who knew? The mystery of the bones and the belongings was far from solved, but at least we were progressing. Slowly but surely.

"Unc—Sheriff?" Jason called out, his arms laden with folders, each as precarious as the next. He juggled them and caught them at the last minute, a puff of dust escaping. I stepped forward to help him place them on the desk.

"Your coffee and a donut that Solomon said you liked are on your desk," Jason continued, straightening and lowering his voice. "I need to ask a question, and I don't want Solomon to think I'm stupid, but he said I needed to file these in order, and I'm stuck."

This was promising. "Go on."

"Like I get the alphabet, duh, we all do, right?"

"Right."

"But…" he looked left and right as if he expected Solomon to jump out at him and laugh, and he was bright red. "Is the file for Olivia and David McBride under O for Olivia, D for David, M for McBride, or do we ignore the Mc part and put it under B for Bride?"

I couldn't help but smile because a red-faced nephew who wasn't buried in his phone and was talking to me was lovely. "M. It's the last name and the entire last name."

"Cool, but what about the file for that Owen-Long car theft thing? Is that O or L?" he asked, his curiosity genuine.

"Wait, you're reading the cases?" I raised an eyebrow, more impressed than irritated.

"I'm learning," he defended, standing a bit taller.

"And you signed all the health and safety paperwork and the confidentiality forms?"

"Yep."

"And you know nothing you read leaves this office?" I added, making sure he understood the gravity of his responsibilities .

"Yes, sir," Jason replied with a nod.

I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Good. It's under O for Owen. Keep up the good work, Jason."

He preened at the praise—and again, I smiled. Maybe having him around wouldn't be so bad if he could remember the alphabetical filing system.

I headed into my office, picked up the donut, finished it in four bites, swallowed the lukewarm coffee, and headed back out. I glanced into the back office at Jason who was already back to filing with newfound determination.

"I'm going to take a drive out to Abraham's place," I advised Solomon as I passed and didn't wait for him to add a comment.

As I pulled up to the small, weather-beaten house, the sun was dull in a leaden fall sky. The place had seen better days, and so had Abraham. He was sitting on his porch, staring at the ground, a picture of defeat.

"Hey, Abraham," I called out as I got out of the car, checking around him for a weapon, aware of my surroundings, given the whole rifle-snatching incident with Connor.

He looked up, his eyes tired and filled with regret. "Sheriff," he greeted me, his voice barely above a whisper.

I walked over and sat on the porch steps next to him. "Your brother's worried about you. He said he hadn't heard from you since last night."

Abraham sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled face. "I don't want to lay all of this on him."

"That's what families are for."

"I know, but…" He sighed. "I've been an idiot, and he ne ver wavered. Worse than that, Joe at the garage offered me a job." He shook his head. "I'm ashamed. I lost my cool and chased my wife away. Everything's a mess. What if I take this job, and it all goes wrong again, and then I never come back?"

"You drinking right now?"

He glanced at me; eyes wide. "No, sir."

I leaned back, considering his words. "Then what if it goes right?" I countered.

He looked at me, searching for reassurance. "I don't know. I've messed up so much."

"Joe's giving you a chance. Why not take it?"

He nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and shame still heavy.

"Abe, you provided for your family for thirty years, your kids are grown, your marriage is strong," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "This is a blip, a minor hurdle. Take it one day at a time, yeah? You can't fix everything overnight, but you can start moving in the right direction."

He managed a small smile. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime, Abraham. And remember, you don't have to do this alone. Reach out if you need help."

"Will you talk to Lucy?"

"What do you want me to say?"

He bit his lip, couldn't meet my eyes, and instead stared out at his front yard and my car. "That I love her? No, that won't sound right coming from you. Can you tell her I got this job, and I'm trying?"

"Sure, I can. "

And, when I left Lucy at Solomon's house an hour later, she hugged me, cried, and thanked me for the message. I hoped that everything would calm down for her and Abraham and that they would return to being happy.

As I drove away, my thoughts wandered to the importance of community and the role I played in it. This is what Connor couldn't see. It wasn't all about good and bad guys, and it wasn't black and white. It was community and understanding my place in it.

I'd do anything for this town.