Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next morning, Beau drove down the winding road to the ranch, his thoughts tangled and knotted like the barbed wire fences that bordered the pastures. The sun was high on the horizon, casting short shadows across the open fields. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to gather his thoughts, to make sense of what he was doing.

Why was he even here? He told himself it was to talk to Abbie one last time, to see if there was even the faintest chance that she might be feeling some of the same things he was.

As much as he tried to rationalize it, he knew the truth. He was here because he couldn’t get her out of his head. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that leaving Jessup Peak was the right move, a part of him was still holding on to the idea of her. Abbie Carter, with her sharp wit, her fiery determination, and the way she could set his blood on fire with just one look.

Beau drove his truck up the long driveway, stopped in front of the old farmhouse, parked, and stepped out, his boots crunching on the gravel. Mr. Carter was on the porch, rocking slowly in an old wooden chair, his hands resting on the arms like a man who had seen everything the world had to offer. He glanced up as Beau approached, his weathered face breaking into a small, knowing smile.

“Morning, Detective,” Mr. Carter said, his voice as steady as the rocking of his chair.

“Morning, Mr. Carter,” Beau replied, taking the steps two at a time. He stopped at the edge of the porch, his hat in his hands, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Is Abbie around?”

The older man’s smile faded, replaced by a look of mild regret. “She’s gone.”

Beau blinked, the words hitting him harder than he expected. “Gone? What do you mean? To town?”

“No, back to New York. She left this morning,” Mr. Carter said, his tone matter of fact. “Flew out first thing this morning.”

Beau felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. She hadn’t even said good-bye.

“Did she… did she say anything before she left?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Mr. Carter tilted his head, studying Beau with the sharp gaze of a man who’d seen more than his fair share of human nature. “Like what?”

How to answer that, he wondered. “Um, honestly, I’m not sure.”

“No, she didn’t say anything specific, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t thinking it.”

Beau frowned, his thoughts spinning. Maybe her leaving without a word was the answer he’d been looking for. Maybe it was her way of telling him there was no point in holding on to something that wasn’t there.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Carter said, breaking the silence, “the answer you’re looking for isn’t found in words.”

Beau glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Carter chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Let me tell you a story. A while back, I lost my keys. Now, this ain’t the first time I’ve misplaced something, but these keys were important. I needed them to get into the storage shed, and I looked everywhere. High and low, every drawer, every pocket. Days went by, and I couldn’t find them.”

Beau raised an eyebrow, not sure where this was going. “Okay, what happened?”

“Well,” Mr. Carter continued, “one day, I’m sitting in the kitchen drinking my coffee, and I happen to glance over at the little bowl by the door where we keep odds and ends. And there they are, plain as day.”

Beau frowned. “So, you just didn’t see them?”

“That’s the thing,” Mr. Carter said, leaning forward slightly. “I didn’t see them because I wasn’t looking for them.”

Beau had to admit he had no idea what the man was talking about. “So you were looking for the keys, but you weren’t looking for them? Not sure I follow, sir.”

Abbie’s grandpa chuckled. “You see, I thought the key tag was blue, so I’d been looking for something blue. But as it turned out, the key tag was red. That’s why I couldn’t find them. Sometimes, the thing you’re looking for is right in front of you, but you don’t see it because you think it’s supposed to look a certain way and that’s not what you see.”

Beau stared at him, the words sinking in deeper than he wanted to admit. He didn’t know whether Mr. Carter was talking about the keys or something else entirely, but the message was clear. Sometimes, you miss what’s right in front of you because you’re too busy looking for what you imagine you should be looking for.

Mr. Carter leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. “Just something to think about.”

Beau grinned and decided the old man was messing with him while throwing in a little bit of truth. He nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation settling on his shoulders. He had a lot to think about, that was for sure. As much as he hated to admit it, Mr. Carter’s story had hit a nerve.

Maybe he’d been so focused on what he should want—what he thought Abbie should want, that he missed what might actually make them happy. And that had been right in front of him all along.

But it was too late now. Abbie was gone. She’d made her choice, and maybe that was the real answer he’d come for. If there had been a chance Abbie was thinking about a different future than the one she had in Manhattan, wouldn’t she have come to him? Talked to him? Told him how she felt?

But she hadn’t. She hadn’t even said good-bye, so there was no mistaking the color of the tag attached to Abbie Carter’s heart. She had let him go without a backward glance so it was time to let her go and focus on the things he could control. Like wrapping up this case and getting back to his life in the city.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Carter. I’ll give what you said some thought.”

As he turned to leave, Mr. Carter called after him. “Beau?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid to change your mind,” the older man said, his voice gentle but firm. “Life has a funny way of surprising you.”

Beau nodded, his throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to say anything, so he tipped his hat and walked back to his truck. The drive back to town felt longer than usual, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him like a storm cloud. He had a lot to think about, but for now, all he could do was keep moving forward.