Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

RYAN

The call came in at a little after 10:00 a.m., just after Ryan finished the last of his coffee. Someone had found a car abandoned on the side of the road, the doors open and no one in sight.

“Registration?”

“Andrew James Vale, thirty-seven, address in Missoula. No record of the car being reported stolen.”

“Track down the owner.”

“On it.”

His deputy, Stefan, was brand new to the office, only a few days out of training, with good instincts but with a tendency to play everything by the rules—to the absolute letter of them, actually. He hadn’t got to the point where he could make decisions for himself but that was okay with Ryan. Stefan seemed like a good guy, genial and easy to have around the office. Also, he made awesome coffee.

Stefan looked excited to have this action early on a Monday morning, and Ryan attempted to focus while actually feeling a small adrenaline rush at having something to do. He always left Mondays clear for admin, with no school visits or community action work, and it wasn’t as if Jedburgh was a hotbed of drama. A stolen car was as good as it was going to get this early in the week.

Well, apart from Justin and Adam going missing all those years ago, but other than that….

They made good time. There had been no more snowfall over the weekend and the roads were clear and ice free.

The man hovering by the potentially stolen car visibly vibrated with excitement. “I stayed to help you, to make sure no one took it.”

“We’ve got this now, sir,” Stefan said. “Thank you.”

The man pressed ahead. “My name is Oscar Dryden. Do you need to write that down? It’s just that I don’t often see someone pulled over up here, and I’d have missed it if the snow hadn’t melted off some, and then I looked inside and it was empty, and there is a kid’s car seat in the back, and so I got to thinking that?—”

“Sir,” Stefan interrupted, “I have your name. If you could give us a number, we’ll contact you if we need anything else.”

Oscar read out his cell number; Stefan made a note of it, took some other details and then photos, while Ryan considered what he had in front of him. He waited for Stefan to report on what he’d found as soon as Oscar drove away. Ryan recognized the man from town, one of the new home owners who worked in Missoula and lived out here in lower-cost housing, commuting to the city every day. When he left, they began to sort things out.

“Okay, one empty and abandoned car,” Ryan said. “What did you find on the owner?”

“Andrew James Vale, thirty-seven. Wife Pauline Marie, twenty-nine, and son Simon, six. No report of a stolen car. I’ve put a call in with the local cops to do a house visit.”

Ryan leaned into the car, careful not to touch anything. “Tell me what you see,” he said.

Stefan straightened his shoulders, looking every inch the newbie. “Mazda, maybe five or six years old, good condition,” He touched the bonnet. “Cold. Car is tidy inside, kiddie seat explained by young son. Hmmm.”

“What? What is it you see?”

Stefan leaned into the car and pulled out a juice cup, a giraffe plushie, and a child’s coat. He considered each item before turning his attention to the front of the car, then pulled on latex gloves and checked the glovebox, bringing out some documents.

They both heard the sound of a cell phone at the same time.

Stefan located it and pulled the cell from where it had slipped down beside a seat. He frowned at the display and answered the phone on speaker.

“Mr. Vale?”

Ryan answered, “No, this is Sheriff Carter, Jedburgh, Montana.”

“This is Missoula PD calling the number we have for Mr. Andrew Vale.”

“I have the phone, it was in his car. We’re following a lead that he has gone into the woods from here. Can you connect to dispatch.” Ryan gave the PD the number for his office so they could go through the correct protocols to establish who Ryan was and to form a connection between the two departments.

“Will do, Sheriff.”

The call ended and Stefan looked up at Ryan. “This man could have just left the cell in the car before it was stolen.”

“One possibility,” Ryan agreed.

He expanded his search around the car. The snow was hard-packed there, mixed in with mud, and he crouched to look at footprints messed up with their own and likely Dryden’s, the guy who found the car.

Stefan joined him. “Could be that whoever drove the car went into the woods.”

“This is Crooked Tree land, but the very edge of it. We’re miles away from any places to hide,” Ryan said absently. This road was the eastern edge of the ranch.

Stefan’s radio crackled, and Ryan listened in as he circled the car.

The words over the airwaves cut right through Ryan and Stefan.

“Attending Missoula cops located the wife. She’s been badly beaten, is unconscious, and has been removed to the hospital. No sign of husband and child on the property.”

The summary was clear and concise, but Ryan heard the wavering in the dispatcher’s voice…

“Neighbors reported an altercation. Missoula PD is putting out an Amber Alert. God.” Dispatch went quiet, and then Ryan heard the clearing of a throat. “Andrew Vale is to be considered armed and potentially dangerous. Do you copy that, Sheriff?”

“Copy. Call for backup to this location,” he ordered.

He’d heard enough. He drew his weapon and Stefan copied, his eyes narrowed. Should they wait? There was a potentially armed man out there with his kid. Was he intending to hurt the boy? Or was this something else? Ryan had to go with his gut feeling, and he exchanged nods with Stefan. They were going after the man with the gun.

The two officers picked their way through piled snow and into the woods beyond, spotting blood about ten feet in and more scarlet fifteen feet farther on. They found the father soon after that. At least, that was who Ryan imagined it must be. He’d taken his own life with a gun shot to his face, which was now mangled and open. If the dad had been bleeding before he shot himself, then Ryan couldn’t see any obvious evidence of it, which could mean one awful thing: the kid was there, and he was hurt.

“Christ,” Stefan said and gagged.

Ryan couldn’t react, he had to be the experienced one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look at the dead man. Don’t let me find the boy dead. Please let him still be alive.

He gestured for Stefan to wait.

“Simon?” Ryan called out. “Are you here? I’m a sheriff. Police,” he expanded. “Simon?”

Nothing. No noise at all.

He tried again. “Simon? Are you hurt? Simon?” Then he listened carefully over the forest silence. The snow muffled his voice, and there was nothing else here. No birds, only the odd sound of snow falling from a tree, or ice crackling on branches. “Simon! Call out!”

He shouted and waited, shouted and waited. And then he heard it, a soft whimper, a cry, and he held up a hand to Stefan. “Call this in. Get the coroner and paramedics here.” Then he headed immediately in the direction of the sound, as well as he could judge it.

Stumbling and forging through piles of snow and onto flat ground sheltered by trees and fallen trunks, he didn’t have to go far. “Simon? I’m here to help you.”

“Mommy” was all he heard.

And then he saw the kid—a slight boy with bright red hair and so much blood on his face. His lip was split and he had a cut over his eye that explained all the blood. He was cowering, dressed in just a sweatshirt, and his skin was white-blue with cold.

Ryan immediately crouched next to him, shrugging off his coat and reaching out. Whether it was the uniform or the fact that little Simon was in shock, he didn’t know, but the boy crawled the short distance in the snow and came straight to the coat. Ryan wrapped him tight and pulled the hood up, and like that, he carried him to his car, taking the long way around the body of Simon’s father. They might have a long wait for the nearest paramedic, and God, he hoped it was Aaron on duty.

At first he tried to set Simon on the passenger seat, but the boy was having none of it and gripped him tightly. So holding Simon close, Ryan settled them both into the seat. He sat there with the heater on, Simon wrapped in his coat, and waited. When the ambulance arrived, Ryan was never happier to see Aaron, who efficiently assessed Simon, with the child gripping Ryan’s hand throughout.

“This is my brother, Aaron,” Ryan explained. Simon was listening to him. “And his partner, Lucy. They’ll look after you.”

“I want my mommy,” Simon whimpered.

“We’ll find her, buddy.” Ryan nodded at Aaron over Simon’s head. “She’s in Missoula.” He left that hanging and waited for Aaron to respond, knowing his brother understood.

“We’ll take you straight to her,” Aaron said.

“We will?” Lucy asked, looking between the brothers.

Ryan looked at her with his best pleading expression. “Please?”

“This is our last call, so we’re off the clock now,” Lucy said. “Let’s go straight to Missoula and find your mommy.”

Those words and Lucy’s kind manner encouraged Simon to go with her.

“I’ll text you the details of where she is,” Ryan said and watched the ambulance leave and the coroner arrive.

He recalled the terror on Simon’s expression and wished that today had been just another quiet Monday.

Ryan didn’t really need an excuse to visit Crooked Tree, but he wanted to report what had happened on their land. And also, more importantly in a personal way, he really wanted to see Jordan. Because really, when it came down to it, he needed a hug at least, a chance to connect to normal. What happened today was the first of its kind for Ryan: a child being witness to so much trauma and Ryan being in the middle of it.

The last time he’d dealt with anything that raw had been to break the news to a family that their daughter had overdosed at college. The pain was real, and naked, and even though he stayed professional on the outside, inside he was dying a little bit.

He had this crazy idea that a hug from Jordan, or a touch, or hell, just a smile, might make his day better.

But they’d have to get past the awkwardness of their night together.

Not the sex, that had been hot and vital and needed. It was the way they’d had sex that worried Ryan, because yet again he’d let out his stubborn-in-charge persona and probably scared Jordan away.

Jordan had left early that night, after some half-assed, awkward conversation about how good the sex was, and with Ryan on the high of mutual orgasms and some really intense kissing, saying they should really do it again.

Who the hell says that? Way to come off as needy and pathetic.

But it wasn’t as if Jordan said anything to stop Ryan talking, and Ryan had hated the silence, so he filled it talking about how he wanted more.

The awkward that happened after was all on Jordan. Ryan had lost his head on that sofa, gotten all toppy and pushy, and Jordan had left. Also—and sue him for his idiot brain—but Ryan still couldn’t understand outside of his confident-in-bed personality, what the hell did pretty, sparkly, happy Jordan see in him?

And yes, he knew damn well he was being freaking irrational. But the last words they’d spoken had been a stupid exchange about how Ryan had muscles and was tall but how the cake he ate made him soft in the middle, and how much Jordan loved that slight vulnerability in such a strong, sexy man.

Jordan had said that while laying his head on said belly, much as Jake and Milly did; it was reminiscent of how his brothers poked at him. Ryan wasn’t carrying much weight, but he wasn’t toned and ripped like Aaron was, nor slim, and cute like his nearest-in-age brother, Jason.

Insecurity was a bitch, something that he didn’t normally carry into sex, but hell, on the morning after—or in this case the hour after? Yeah, insecurity hit him like a Mack truck.

Jordan had sent him a text later that day, a thank you in a somewhat confused message that suggested Ryan call him so they could do it again.

Ryan didn’t call.

Jordan didn’t call.

Three days and no call later…

Three days Ryan had left it without contacting Jordan in reply.

There hadn’t been any more texts.

The ball was in his court, and he’d fucked it up big time.

Then today had happened: the father killing himself, the son traumatized but still with his mother, and abruptly seeing Jordan was all Ryan wanted to do. He got to the ranch, reported the incident on the edge of Crooked Tree land to Jay, kept it to a minimum of information; Jay shook his hand, compassion in his eyes. Jay was like that, all supportive and understanding, and Ryan didn’t need that or he might snap. So, he left quickly with a goodbye, and he didn’t look back.

Was this what it was like to find someone who wormed their way into your soul? Was this what Jay had with Nate? This scratching, clawing need to be with someone.

I’m losing it. I barely know the man.

Just as he was pulling up down by the Forest Cabins where the film crew were, he took a phone call from Aaron. “Hey, how’s it going at the hospital?”

“The mom’s awake, and the kid is with her. She’s holding it together for Simon, but she said that her husband hadn’t been the same since he’d been let go by his company last winter. She wouldn’t look at me when she spoke, though, as if she was done with it all and just wanted to hold Simon. Jeez, it was intense.”

“Did Simon say anything to you on the way there?”

“He spoke a little to me. Said his dad promised him McDonald’s, only he didn’t stop driving and it scared him. According to Simon, he asked his dad to stop so he could have a pee, and he ran over to the trees. Sketchy details, but apparently he fell. His father picked him up, saw the blood, and was crying, and he told Simon he was sorry and he should run before he hurt him. I think the kid was confused and scared—Jesus, he was terrified, actually.”

“So, the father didn’t mean to hurt his son?”

“I’m not the cop here, but I don’t think his dad was thinking of anything at all.”

“Shit. Poor kid.” Poor family.

“Simon heard the shot and stayed right where he was. He said he couldn’t move because his dad had told him he had to stay away from him.”

“Is he okay?”

Aaron paused. He was the most thoughtful of Ryan’s brothers, the one who could see a situation and sum it up very quickly. But this seemed to be stumping him.

“The kid’s not doing so well,” he began with caution, “but he’s in the best place, with his mom.”

“Thanks for taking Simon all the way there.”

“No worries.”

“I owe you one.”

There was silence and Ryan knew that both he and Aaron were in the throes of processing what had happened. Between him, Aaron and Jason, they shared a lot of first responder experiences and sometimes they needed to think about them apart.

Today, hearing Aaron’s voice was a day that Ryan needed to share this with a brother.

“You still owe me loads.” Aaron chuckled and broke the silence.

Ryan could go with this. He could play pretend for a few seconds of normality, and the ritual teasing was normal, a gallows humor. “Like what?”

“From that one time I kept your big gay secret,” Aaron teased.

This was a standing joke. Aaron had found a stash of porn under Ryan’s bed when Ryan was just short of fourteen, tickled the admission of gayness out of him, and then vowed not to tell a soul… until Jason came in from school and then every freaking Carter brother had to know. Not a single one of them threw him out or seemed disgusted, though. Jason had helpfully pointed out that statistically one gay brother out of five was about the going rate.

To this day, Ryan didn’t know if Jason had been fucking with all of them. “You kept the secret for an hour before telling everyone,” he pointed out.

“Better out than in,” Aaron added.

“Ha-freaking-ha,” Ryan said without heat and ended his call to Aaron.

Then he sat in the car awhile, calling Stefan with the update and thinking about the day. He’d seen things like that before—parents back from war, parents caught up in financial messes where the only way out was to take their own lives. Seeing it before didn’t make little Simon’s story any easier. He didn’t have a dad now.

This is stupid, he thought, I need to go before I do something stupid.

A knock on his window startled him and he pushed open the door. Angie stood there with her ever-present clipboard.

“Sheriff? Is everything okay?” She glanced down at her notes. “Did we have a meeting? I don’t have anything on my schedule. We’re just wrapping up for today. Loss of light.” She held up a hand and then pressed it to her ear. “No, I said we needed the whole scene. I think it would be more effective.”

He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, then realized she was talking into a phone, or something a lot more efficient, considering this area of the ranch was something of a dead spot for cell reception.

“Jesus, Artie, do I have to come over there—okay, on my way.” She looked at Ryan. “Sorry, I have to go. So, we didn’t have an appointment?”

“No. I was just hoping to see Jordan.”

She didn’t seem to think that was a weird thing. In fact, she smiled widely.

“Jordan is in the blue tent checking scripts for tomorrow. We were on exteriors today, very cold.” Then she winked, and Ryan was startled a little as she added, “He probably needs warming up.”

She vanished at great speed up the hill toward a green tent, while Ryan locked his car and zipped up his jacket. All he could fixate on was the concept of Jordan needing warming up.

Ryan found him in the huge blue tent with the sign proclaiming this was Production HQ. Jordan was bent over a table, looking down at sheets of paper laid out in front of him, talking to Micah.

Ryan took a moment to look at the man he’d had writhing in his arms only a few days ago. He was so like Micah, yet at the same time so different. Ryan had looked at the publicity stills for the show they’d been in as teens, and while they were definitely twins, there were differences. Jordan had a slightly thinner face and his eyes were darker, but it wasn’t just that. There was a tension in him; he held himself very stiffly at times, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, whereas Micah seemed a whole lot more relaxed. Then there was the way they spoke.

Micah looked up and saw Ryan, smiled at him, and offered a “Yo, Sheriff.”

Ryan wasn’t sure it was appropriate for him to yo back, so he sketched a wave and added a soft “Hello.”

Jordan also looked up, seeming a little startled to see Ryan there. He straightened and gave a half-smile. “Hey,” he offered. “Is everything okay? Were we scheduled for a meeting?”

Ryan wanted to be honest, but Micah was standing right the hell there.

As if Micah sensed it—or maybe because Ryan was standing there looking like a complete idiot—he picked up a couple of sheets of paper and made his way out of the tent.

“Later, J,” he said to Jordan and clapped Ryan on the shoulder as he left. “Cheer the fucker up,” he muttered.

“I heard that!” Jordan shouted.

“You were supposed to!” Micah returned.

Ryan wasn’t sure what to say. “Is everything okay?” he asked and waggled a finger to suggest the filming, or the crew, or the freaking tent, or God knows what.

“Yeah, mostly. Why are you here?”

Ryan sighed. This wasn’t going well. “I had a bad day as well.” He didn’t expand, but it didn’t look like he was getting a hug from Jordan right then, so he needed to leave and find a brother or two he could talk to.

“You didn’t return the text,” Jordan blurted out, interrupting Ryan’s thoughts. “Shit, I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to act all normal—because I can do that, I’m an actor. But seeing you, I just wanted to know what I did to fuck up, because I’m not used to anything but hooking up on the down-low, so I clearly did something way stupid.”

“You didn’t?—”

“Is it because I’m not out properly and that you feel like I’m using you, or is it because you just don’t like me? Or because I just laid there and let you take over? Should I have been more—” He waved his hand to indicate more of whatever more was.

Ryan’s mouth fell open as he processed all of that. “ What ?” he finally managed when his brain caught up with what Jordan had said.

Jordan scrubbed his eyes with his fists. “Oh God,” he said miserably. “It’s because I said I really like you, and that’s freaked you out, and I’m too fucking needy. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Ryan walked up to him and pulled Jordan’s hands away from his face. In a smooth move, he had Jordan pressed up against one of the poles holding up the tent and was kissing him like they might never kiss again. At first Jordan wriggled to get away—that only lasted a few seconds—and then he was clasping his hands behind Ryan’s neck and holding on for the ride. In turn, Ryan wrapped his arms around Jordan and the pole and held tight. There was no way Jordan was moving until he fully understood that Ryan didn’t think he was too needy or that he’d fucked up somehow.

Jordan’s hands slid up into Ryan’s hair, twisting there and holding the kiss, and Ryan used his knee to part Jordan’s thighs and slot himself there. He had to lift Jordan slightly because of the height difference, and Jordan moaned so loudly into the kiss that Ryan thought he’d hurt him, and he pulled away slightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his breathing heavy.

Jordan answered by grinding down on Ryan’s thigh and leaning in to deepen the kiss.

“You’re getting company.”

Micah’s voice interrupted the kissing and Ryan stumbled back and glanced over at the entrance to the tent. He saw Micah there with his back to Ryan and Jordan.

“Production team meeting,” Micah added over his shoulder.

Ryan couldn’t believe what he’d just done—nearly rubbed himself off against a man who wasn’t out, in the middle of the day in front of who-the-fuck-ever could have walked in. “I’m sorry,” he said and backed away again, ass hitting the table with the papers on top.

Jordan raised a hand to his lips, and then he smiled before deliberately rearranging himself and yanking down his thick fleece to cover the bulge in his jeans. “Don’t be sorry. I’m guessing you’re still interested.”

“Have you seen yourself?” Ryan said. “Of course I’m interested. I’m sane and healthy, end of story.”

Jordan tilted his head a little. “Then why didn’t you text me back?”

Ryan pushed the insecurities down to where they normally stayed. “Because I am a sheriff in the middle of Montana, with a soft belly, and shit. I say again, have you seen yourself?”

“I love your soft bits,” Jordan murmured. Then he winked again. “And your hard bits.”

“They’re coming over,” Micah announced.

Ryan heard voices as whoever formed the production team headed their way. That was a good thing, because he didn’t know how to process the teasing without some real forethought.

Jordan said quietly, “We should be finished by eight. I could be at your place by nine?”

Ryan took a step closer and half whispered, “Yes.”

And then, before there was any chance of giving in to the temptation of Jordan’s damp, well-kissed lips, Ryan left. He exchanged pleasantries with the people arriving and received a knowing glance from Angie, to which he replied with a quirk of his lips.

She and Micah knew, but they were safe people to know the man Jordan truly was. How much of a secret could this be for Jordan anyway? He must have so many people in the industry aware of who he really was. If there was any hope of this being more than just a couple of weeks of sex, then they needed to talk about it at some point.

Because Ryan really wanted to know more about Jordan Darby, and the lust he had for the sexy man was overwhelming.

Somehow along the way he’d forgotten about Simon and what he’d seen there, but it settled around him again when he reached his car.

He owed it to himself to make sure he talked to Jordan, that he didn’t push what had happened today under the carpet. If Jordan wanted to be a part of his life, albeit for a couple of weeks, then maybe Ryan was better off telling him how he was feeling.

That he felt brittle and unsettled, and he really needed a hug.