Clinton. I can help. That’s why Grandma wants us to stay at your house. To help. To find the real killer so Misty won’t be accused.”
They drove past the scattered houses at the outskirts of town. The bad economy had taken a toll in this area. Some of these homes were boarded up and abandoned. Families were leaving Henley and moving to Billings where they’d have a better chance of finding steady work. Aiden feared that the small-town way of life he’d always cherished was coming to an end.
His world was changing before his eyes. He shouldn’t be looking for a serial killer. Those kinds of crimes belonged in the big city, not in his sleepy little town. It used to be that Gabriel ranch commanded so much respect that nobody would dare to drive by and shoot off their guns, much less to accuse Misty of murder. Changes. Everything was turning upside down, and the worst part was how these changes struck close to home. His baby sister was about to become a single mother. His churchgoing mom seemed content to sleep with Blake and not marry him.
His idea of shielding Tab from the dangers of an investigation might be part of a bygone era when the menfolk did the protecting and the womenfolk stayed home and baked pies. Tab sure as hell didn’t fit that mold. If she had, he probably wouldn’t have found her so appealing.
“Fine,” he said. “Meet me at the gas station when you’re done.”
“I intend to.” The chill in her voice turned crisp and professional. “And I’m coming along this afternoon when you take off in the chopper.”
That suited him just fine. In the chopper with him, she’d be safe. “Glad to have you along.”
“Good, because I need to stop by Grandma’s house and pick up some clothes and basic supplies. Also, I want to bring Shua over here to the ranch. I know the neighbors are taking care of her, but I worry she’s not getting enough exercise.”
He suppressed an urge to warn her about riding all across the countryside by herself. Yesterday, he’d sent her off without being worried. But that was before they’d found Ellen, the second victim of the serial killer.
They drove down Main Street, a wide two-lane road with angled parking on both sides. Like the outlying area, the shops along the sidewalk showed signs of deterioration although most of the storefronts were occupied. At the far end of the street, two churches faced each other. Half a mile beyond was Henley High, home of the Bobcats.
Aiden drove past the gas station with a green neon open sign in the front window. Apparently, Bert Welling wasn’t taking off any time to mourn his murdered nephew. Two blocks away at the café, he dropped Tab off.
She waved. “See you in a few.”
Circling back, he drove up to the gas pump where the price for regular was a whole lot higher than he liked to pay. Aiden climbed down from the cab as Bert emerged from the office. Dressed in the gray jumpsuit with his name stitched over the breast pocket, Bert looked much too neat and tidy to be a car mechanic, but that was his way.
Ever since he took over the gas station, more than a dozen years ago, he’d adhered to a standard of cleanliness more typical of a tea parlor than a garage. From the spotless windows to the array of tools neatly hung on pegs, Bert’s station showed a compulsive attention to order and detail.
Aiden took off his hat and extended his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Bert acknowledged his words with a nod. His clean-shaven face was without expression. Not a single strand of his thinning black hair dared to slip out of place. “Fill ’er up?”
“Yes, sir. And I’m due for an oil change, if you’ve got the time.”
“Drive ’er into the first bay.”
Aiden followed Bert’s instruction, figuring that while the two of them were inside the garage together, he might be more prone to conversation. Or maybe not. Bert was never the talkative sort.
As Bert moved efficiently through his routine for getting the
They drove past the scattered houses at the outskirts of town. The bad economy had taken a toll in this area. Some of these homes were boarded up and abandoned. Families were leaving Henley and moving to Billings where they’d have a better chance of finding steady work. Aiden feared that the small-town way of life he’d always cherished was coming to an end.
His world was changing before his eyes. He shouldn’t be looking for a serial killer. Those kinds of crimes belonged in the big city, not in his sleepy little town. It used to be that Gabriel ranch commanded so much respect that nobody would dare to drive by and shoot off their guns, much less to accuse Misty of murder. Changes. Everything was turning upside down, and the worst part was how these changes struck close to home. His baby sister was about to become a single mother. His churchgoing mom seemed content to sleep with Blake and not marry him.
His idea of shielding Tab from the dangers of an investigation might be part of a bygone era when the menfolk did the protecting and the womenfolk stayed home and baked pies. Tab sure as hell didn’t fit that mold. If she had, he probably wouldn’t have found her so appealing.
“Fine,” he said. “Meet me at the gas station when you’re done.”
“I intend to.” The chill in her voice turned crisp and professional. “And I’m coming along this afternoon when you take off in the chopper.”
That suited him just fine. In the chopper with him, she’d be safe. “Glad to have you along.”
“Good, because I need to stop by Grandma’s house and pick up some clothes and basic supplies. Also, I want to bring Shua over here to the ranch. I know the neighbors are taking care of her, but I worry she’s not getting enough exercise.”
He suppressed an urge to warn her about riding all across the countryside by herself. Yesterday, he’d sent her off without being worried. But that was before they’d found Ellen, the second victim of the serial killer.
They drove down Main Street, a wide two-lane road with angled parking on both sides. Like the outlying area, the shops along the sidewalk showed signs of deterioration although most of the storefronts were occupied. At the far end of the street, two churches faced each other. Half a mile beyond was Henley High, home of the Bobcats.
Aiden drove past the gas station with a green neon open sign in the front window. Apparently, Bert Welling wasn’t taking off any time to mourn his murdered nephew. Two blocks away at the café, he dropped Tab off.
She waved. “See you in a few.”
Circling back, he drove up to the gas pump where the price for regular was a whole lot higher than he liked to pay. Aiden climbed down from the cab as Bert emerged from the office. Dressed in the gray jumpsuit with his name stitched over the breast pocket, Bert looked much too neat and tidy to be a car mechanic, but that was his way.
Ever since he took over the gas station, more than a dozen years ago, he’d adhered to a standard of cleanliness more typical of a tea parlor than a garage. From the spotless windows to the array of tools neatly hung on pegs, Bert’s station showed a compulsive attention to order and detail.
Aiden took off his hat and extended his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Bert acknowledged his words with a nod. His clean-shaven face was without expression. Not a single strand of his thinning black hair dared to slip out of place. “Fill ’er up?”
“Yes, sir. And I’m due for an oil change, if you’ve got the time.”
“Drive ’er into the first bay.”
Aiden followed Bert’s instruction, figuring that while the two of them were inside the garage together, he might be more prone to conversation. Or maybe not. Bert was never the talkative sort.
As Bert moved efficiently through his routine for getting the
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