Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“We’re looking for any witnesses at this point, which includes people who were at the Bale House, yes.” But I know where this is going.
“Logan Landry was there.”
People are already talking. “Yes, I’m aware that he was there with his family. I saw him. I also saw him leave early in the night.”
“Not long after Holly, from what I hear. So, where’d he go?”
“Home. But CIB will learn more when they speak to him.”
“Why haven’t they already been out there!” Brad’s voice booms.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Justin’s head pop up from his computer screen, and the meeting room door creaks open. “We’re focused on gathering critical information from the staff—”
“A week after that dangerous criminal is out and a Whitley is already missing. You’re not naive enough to believe that’s a coincidence, are you?”
“Watch yourself, Brad,” I warn, letting the sharpness slide into my voice.
But he’s not listening. “I told you he’d bring nothing but trouble to this community. Look what happened last weekend. That incident with Holly and his window—”
“Logan had nothing to do with that,” I snap. “Logan could have pressed charges for vandalism, but he declined.”
“And why is that?” Brad throws his arms out in the air, his wing span intimidating. “Maybe he had other plans for her.”
I stare at him with incredulity. “This is your fear talking.” Because it’s clearly not common sense.
A buzz sounds and the door swings open. Terry hangs halfway through, thrusting a hand out. “Hi, I’m Detective Constable Ethan Terry. I’m here investigating Holly’s disappearance. What’s this about an incident involving Holly and Logan Landry’s window?”
Before Brad has an opportunity to share his warped version, I jump in. “My daughter and her friends were having a bonfire on my property, and they decided to trespass onto the Landrys’ property to convince Logan to come outside. They were curious about him. Holly threw a rock at his window, breaking it. The girls went home, and I arranged for the window to be repaired. I witnessed it all. That’s it. That’s the end of the story.”
“So, Logan Landry and Holly knew each other before Friday night?” Terry asks.
“No. They don’t know each other.” I’m done wasting my time here. To Brad, I say, “We have officers canvassing and searching for any clue to Holly’s whereabouts. Every detachment in the region received a BOLO for her, and as soon as the detective constable sends the draft media release for my approval, the public will be informed.” I give Terry a “What are you waiting for?” glare.
As obnoxious as he is, he heeds it. “Don’t you worry, sir. I’m heading out to the Landrys shortly to get answers.”
I stifle my groan as the ass-kissing prick vanishes back behind the Plexiglas and then I return my attention to Brad. “Holly is my daughter’s best friend.” For better or worse. “I promise you, we are doing everything we can to find her.”
My words seem to deflate Brad’s bluster. He sighs heavily and then nods, and in that moment, he doesn’t look like the haughty, weight-throwing bastard anymore. All I see is an eighty-odd-year-old man who’s faced his share of heartache.
“The best place for you right now is with your family,” I say more gently. It’s where I wish I could be, at home and holding Isla tight.
But she’s not even there.
And I guess I’m going to Thanksgiving dinner after all.
Chapter 21
Logan
“What do you figure you’ll set the red dog number at?” my father asks Jon, leaning against the gate, a Colt burning between his fingertips. I emerged from my place after showering the day’s dirt and sweat off to find them here, pondering a nearby pasture where this year’s calves graze with their mothers. Most of them have lost their reddish-brown coat that mark them as this year’s births.
“Based on what I’ve seen …” Jon hums, his mouth downcast in deep thought. “I’m thinking ninety-two.” He holds up his index finger. “But that’s unofficial.”
I shake my head. “Mom told me you guys place bets on spring calves, but I thought she was kidding.”
“Jon takes his herd management very seriously,” my father says with a small smile. I can’t read his tone. Is he impressed or amused by my brother-in-law’s efforts?
“So, what, you just hang out in the fields and watch bison fuck all summer?” I say wryly. The whole process is one hundred percent natural, thank God, not like Uncle Wyatt’s cows, with rubber gloves and semen straws. All we need to do is put them in the right pastures during mating season and keep the bulls separated.
“And on here.” Jon holds up his iPad, which displays various feeds from the cameras they’ve set up around the property to keep an eye on the herd.
My father chuckles. “It’s a nice thing to look forward to after a long winter. Pool’s gotten big over the years with your cousins and uncles throwing in, plus a few market regulars. Egan won this year.”