Operation Power Play (18 page)

Chapter 32

“A
ren’t you going to have to go back to work sometime?” Sloan asked as they got back into his car. Cutter settled easily into the backseat, seeming content after the long fetch session. Brett didn’t answer until they were out on the road again.

“Technically, I have enough leave time coming to take about six months off.”

She blinked. “Maybe you should take a vacation now and then.”

“Never wanted to. Before.”

The last word hung in the air between them. She tried not to read too much into it, but...what if he did mean it in the way her mind had leaped to?

“How about now?” The words were out before she could stop them, and wishing she could call them back was pointless. All she could do was not look at him. But still she felt his sideways glance.

“Depends who’s asking.”

She wished she had the nerve to ask, “And if it was me?” She swallowed, wondering where the woman who had once faced down men who strode the highest halls of power had gone. This couldn’t be any harder, could it?

Yes, apparently it could, because the words wouldn’t come. Why? What was the difference?

The answer came to her, as it sometimes did, in Jason’s clear, steady voice.
That was facing the past, Sloan. And nothing you did could change what was. But this, this is your future. Grab it.

But you—

Are dead. Never coming back, girl. You know that.

She waited for the inevitable sadness to well up, to swamp every other feeling, to make the next few minutes a battle not to tear up. It didn’t come. It was there—she could feel it, low and deep inside—but the rising tide that overtook her so often at any thought of Jason didn’t come.

She knew it was crazy, knew she was merely having this conversation with herself, but in truth she had known Jason so well she was probably projecting what he would actually have said if he’d been here.

And what would he have said about Brett Dunbar? This time the voice was so clear, so...Jason it made her breath catch.

He’s a good man. An honorable man. I’d trust him, to do what I can’t anymore. Be there for you.

The question is, does he want to be?

Give him a chance. He’s in the same place you are.

Her breath caught again. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She should have realized when he’d told her about his wife. Just because it had been longer ago didn’t mean he didn’t still feel the way she did. Sad, aching, alone, conflicted.

“Guess that answers that,” Brett muttered.

She snapped back to reality. Was startled to see they were halfway back to his place. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

She drew in a deep breath.
I love you, Jason. I will always love you.

She saw his grin, his encouraging nod, as clearly as if he were here. And oddly, she heard a soft whuff from Cutter that sounded almost like encouragement.

“About vacations,” she said.

She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Plunged on.

“And what you would say if it was me asking. After this is all over, I mean.”

“Yes.”

She blinked.

“I would say yes,” he clarified.

She let out the breath that had backed up in her throat. “Then consider it asked.”

She saw his hands ease their grip. “Consider it answered.”

She felt as if she’d scaled Hurricane Ridge and now had the expanse of miles spread out before her. Miles of possibilities, possibilities she’d thought lost to her. All because a dog had taken an unexpected turn.

She glanced back at the dog in question, saw that he was looking at her. Something gleamed for a moment in the amber-flecked dark eyes, something bright and alive and uncannily intelligent. And in that moment it all seemed perfectly logical, even reasonable. There had been nothing wrong about that turn.

Thank you,
she thought. And that gleam brightened, fire bright, and she had the oddest feeling he’d understood. She reached back and scratched at that spot behind his right ear. He sighed happily. And suddenly he was just a dog again, leaning into her hand, urging her not to stop the delightful touch.

Eventually, when the dog seemed content, she turned back to the front. And saw they were in a left-turn lane, not the lane that would take them back to his place.

“Where?” she asked as he slowed to a stop at the signal.

“Your aunt and uncle’s.”

Instinctive concern kicked through her. Did he think something was wrong? “Why?”

“Three reasons. I want to meet the guy Foxworth called in.”

He didn’t say he wanted to check the man out, but she heard it in his tone. And the simple fact that he wanted to be sure the man was up to the tasks of both helping and protecting her family made her feel a warmth and safety she’d thought she’d never feel again. She hadn’t realized how weary she was of carrying it all alone until this man had stepped in and shouldered part of the burden.

“Thank you.” She went on without explaining. “Number two?”

“I want to walk the property. I have too many ideas and no proof of any of them. But it begins and ends there, so I want to look at every inch of it.”

“All right. And three?”

He looked at her then, steadily. “I think it’s time I met your folks again. On a different footing.”

She couldn’t even begin to put in words how that statement made her feel.
An honorable man.
Whether it had been her own thoughts manifested in Jason’s voice or Jason himself somehow reaching out to her, it was the truth. Brett Dunbar was an honorable man. While that might not matter to many in today’s culture, it mattered to her. A lot.

And when they arrived and she saw Tim Deford, the former medic who had responded to Rafe’s call, she knew she was looking at another one. She seemed to be finding a lot more of them since Brett Dunbar and Foxworth had come into her life.

The stocky, muscular man was three or four inches taller than she herself and had brown eyes that were warm and gentle. He was standing by as Uncle Chuck got into his recliner, watching carefully, letting the older man do it but clearly ready to move quickly if necessary. When he was settled, the man turned, spotted Sloan and drew himself up straight.

“It’s an honor, Mrs. Burke.”

He didn’t salute as Rafe had, but his voice sounded exactly the same. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but she could see no outward sign of whatever injury had sent him home. She had seen a slight tenting of his shirt at the small of his back and guessed that covered the weapon Rafe had promised.

“The honor is mine, Mr. Deford,” she said. “Thank you for your service.”

She was surprised to see the young man color slightly before he turned to Brett. “You must be Detective Dunbar. Rafe called, said you’d probably be coming.”

Brett lifted a brow. “Did he?”

“He said you’d want to check me out.” He didn’t sound in the least perturbed. “Make sure I’m up to the job here. All of it,” he added, holding Brett’s gaze levelly. She realized he meant the defend part of his mission here. And despite the gentle eyes, she had the feeling he would be more than capable if necessary.

“Rafe is wise.”

“He is that. He and I met in rehab.” He reached down and rapped his knuckles on what was clearly not a natural leg. “He kept his. I didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloan said.

Deford shrugged. “Old news. Rafe and I still argue over who’s better off.”

Sloan smiled. “So you called Foxworth when you needed help?”

He shook his head. “I called Rafe because he helped me get my head on straight after this,” he said, gesturing at his leg. “I didn’t even know about Foxworth. But,” he added, looking at Sloan, “I would have done this anyway, even if they hadn’t helped me. I welcome the chance to pay you back a little for what you did.”

She didn’t know what to say. She honestly thought she’d done only what anyone would do. It was everyone else who kept acting as if it was some extraordinary thing.

“Don’t minimize it,” Brett said to her. “He’s right.”

“Taking a real personal interest here, aren’t you, Detective?”

It was the first time her uncle had spoken since he’d settled into his chair. Aunt Connie was off running an errand, so obviously she already felt comfortable leaving things in Tim Deford’s care. Sloan could see why.

“Yes, sir,” Brett said, turning to face her uncle. “Real personal, and real interest.” She felt that bit of heat in her cheeks yet again. Wondered if she’d ever get over it. “That all right with you, sir?” Brett asked.

“About time,” Uncle Chuck said gruffly.

“Good. Now, I have to ask you something. Do you have a copy of the boundary map for your property?”

“Of course I do. It’s in my file cabinet out in the garage. Sloan knows where it is.”

“Let me change into boots. Then I’ll show you,” she said.

In the garage, with Cutter now out of the car and with them, she dug out the plot map. They spread it out on the hood of her uncle’s big sedan. The boundary was, as Sloan had said, roughly in the shape of an L, with the house and yard at one end of the long leg, the street where the leak had been at the other and the shorter leg protruding some distance westward.

“I didn’t realize it went that far over,” he said, looking at the western boundary.

“It used to be a rectangular plot, but Uncle Chuck’s grandfather sold a piece out of the side during the Great Depression. But he kept that top edge. Uncle Chuck said he thought the main highway was going to go in there, and he wanted the frontage.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.”

“Well, except for guessing where the state would put in roads, yes,” Sloan said with a grin.

He chuckled. “So there’s nothing up there?”

She shook her head. “They’ve left it natural. There are some beautiful old trees up there. It hasn’t been logged in a very long time.” Her brow furrowed. “I actually haven’t been over in that part for quite a while. It’s kind of difficult to get through. Lots of underbrush and a couple of blackberry thickets that are impassable.”

Cutter barked. They both looked.

“Not impassable for you, huh?” Sloan asked the dog.

“Probably not,” Brett agreed with a crooked smile. “Shall we?”

She would have much rather talked about what the future held for them, but by now she knew him well enough to know that in his own way, he was like the dog in his determination. He wanted the truth, and he’d pull every thread he came across to find it if he had to.

Chapter 33

“D
amn.” Brett yanked his hand back, knowing he’d gotten nailed again by one of the fierce blackberry thorns. He glanced at Sloan, who said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her carefully neutral expression said it all.

“Okay, okay, you were right,” he muttered. “I should have borrowed your uncle’s gloves. Not that anything short of armor would stand up to these things.”

“Well, you did find treasure,” she said.

“What? The third old tire? Yeah, one more and I’ll refit my car.”

She laughed. His irritable mood vanished. That easily. At just the sound of that light, beautiful laugh.
You are a goner, Dunbar.

They trekked onward. They’d spent three hours up behind the house, turning up nothing except the fact that his temporary repair had held and the puddle had been reduced to a barely wet spot. Sloan had shown him the old apple tree she used to climb as a kid and the cave-like place beneath a bent madrone tree she’d claimed as her own.

“I came here a lot in the beginning,” she’d said, staring down at the place her adult self no longer fit. “I knew they hated to see me cry, so I came up here when I couldn’t help it.”

And he hadn’t been able to help himself at the quiet, reflective words. He’d put his arms around her and simply held her for a long moment. She’d leaned against him as if she welcomed it, and the thought that he could actually give her comfort, even over an ache so long past, warmed him in a way he’d not felt in a very long time.

Although there was still ground to cover there, they had decided to move over and tackle the top of the upside-down L, where the trees were the thickest, while they still had good light.

“Can’t even see the house from here,” Brett said.

“We knew they couldn’t build easily here because of the slope,” she said. “But with the grading they did for the proposed highway, it would be the easiest way to bring in equipment and trucks.”

“Starting with a bulldozer for these,” Brett said, wincing as yet another thorn grabbed and tore at his arm.

So far they’d found the three old discarded tires, a rusted-out burn barrel overtaken by vegetation and, oddly, a flattened soccer ball in this section. They kept on, although Brett was beginning to feel this was one of his less brilliant ideas. It was rough going, and he figured he was slowly bleeding to death by droplets from all the thorn scratches he’d gathered. On his life list of thankless jobs, this was definitely a contender. Or would have been had it not been for the fact that simply being with Sloan moved it out of that category.

“Thank you,” he said after a while longer.

She looked at him. “For what?”

“For not asking if I have the slightest idea what we’re looking for,” he answered with a wry grimace.

She lifted a brow. “I assumed we were looking for anything that doesn’t fit. Doesn’t belong. Isn’t natural.”

Just that easily, she put it into words that made sense. “Exactly,” he said.

The trees were getting thicker as they went, some with a gap of only a yard or so between them. They brushed past a large fern, and he stopped. The explosion of feathers that lay on the ground told them some small gray bird had likely met its end here.

“Welcome to Mother Nature,” Sloan said with a sigh.

“She is what she is. Emotionless. But she’s also why it all works.”

“Except for us,” she said, sounding a bit wistful. “We fight it, get tangled up with emotions and our need to have reasons for everything.”

He turned to look at her. “Are you saying you want to stop?”

She studied him for a moment. “If I was, what would you say?”

“Then stop. You don’t need to get any deeper into this.”

“But you won’t stop.”

“No.”

“You’re like Cutter with that ball—you’ll chase it until you drop.”

He glanced at the dog, who was nosing the scattered feathers with interest. “Ordinarily I might object to being compared to a dog. But in this case it just might be a compliment.”

Cutter’s head came up sharply. For a moment Brett thought it was because they’d been talking about him, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was staring into the thickest stand of trees. His entire body was tense, his tail stood out straight behind him, and his ears were nearly flat to his head.

“Someone?” Sloan asked.

“I don’t think so,” Brett said. “He’s not growling.”

“But he’s got something,” she said as the dog suddenly bolted between two trees.

“I’d say,” Brett agreed.

They followed, although it took a bit more effort on their part to work their way through the brush and ferns that grew across most of the floor of this grove. They lost sight of Cutter as he pushed farther up the hill.

“Is that still their property?” he asked when he finally caught sight of the dog again, digging at something up in the distance.

“I think so. But we’re about as far as you can get from the house and still be on it.” She pointed. “Up there is where they were originally going to put the road. They did the surveys, even cleared out some places, but something happened and they changed the route.”

It took them another minute or two to get to where Cutter was, about midway between two tall evergreens. He didn’t know what they were, only that they were very different kinds of trees, one with long draping branches trailing green that reminded him of juniper, the other bare of any foliage at all until its top burst out into the clear a good fifty-plus feet above them.

The dog didn’t even glance at them. He was intently focused on whatever he was digging at.

“Well, at least it’s not a puddle this time,” Sloan said.

“Thank goodness for that. I don’t relish the thought of another shower with a mud-caked dog.”

She gave him a sideways glance, then looked quickly away. He wasn’t sure what her expression meant, but it kept him from teasingly adding, “Now, with you, on the other hand...” He wondered if the same thought had occurred to her. He hoped so. But it was probably best he not say that just now.

They watched, Brett wondering if the dog was going to demand assistance again. But he seemed focused simply on his digging.

“Are you going to miss him? When they come back, I mean?”

He glanced at the dog. “Yeah,” he admitted. “He’s a...big personality.”

She smiled. “It was nice of you to offer to watch him.”

“It would have been,” he agreed. “But I didn’t.” He nodded at the dog. “He decided.”

He explained then about what had happened after the wedding. How Cutter himself had changed the plans. When he finished, she was staring at the dog. But she was smiling.

“I’m glad you didn’t tell me that until now,” she said. “I might not have believed it before.”

“I know that feeling,” he said. “There’s a lot of things I wouldn’t have believed about him before.”

There was a rustle in the trees above them, and he glanced up. It took him a moment to spot the squirrel, who apparently wasn’t happy about their presence. He wasn’t actually chattering at them, but he looked as if he might start at any moment.

Probably start throwing things at us. He—

Sloan sucked in a sharply audible breath, almost a gasp. His attention snapped back to her.

“Brett,” she whispered.

But she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Cutter. Or rather, where he was digging. He shifted his gaze.

“Damn.”

He took a step closer. Just to be sure, although he already was. He almost couldn’t think, the pieces were crashing into place so swiftly in his head.

He crouched beside the hole. Pulled Cutter back.

“It’s all right, boy. I’ve got it now. Don’t dig anymore.”

The dog, somewhat surprisingly given how he’d been going at it, obeyed. Which was a good thing, Brett thought grimly, since all of a sudden they were dealing with a crime scene.

Cutter had uncovered a hand.