“What is it?” Quint asked Ree. He felt her body suddenly stiffen. Every one of her muscles tensed.
She turned enough to whisper in his ear. “Someone’s watching us. I can feel it.”
“Okay.” He feathered a few kisses on her neck, creating an intimate scene for onlookers. Most would redirect their gazes at the public display of affection. Folks became awkward real fast when lovers crossed a line, became too intimate.
With hooded eyes, he scanned as much of the room as he could see from his vantage point. The little moans of pleasure escaping Ree’s lips when he shifted in his seat or moved his hands weren’t helping him concentrate.
Clearly, he was distracted. He blamed it on the heavy emotions from dredging up the past. There were times when he thought the hole in his heart could never be filled. He certainly didn’t deserve to be happy when Tessa couldn’t. He didn’t deserve to keep doing the job he loved when she couldn’t. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve to be in love with someone when she couldn’t.
How was that for messed-up?
The irony was that he knew, in his heart of hearts, that Tessa would never want him to be unhappy. If she was here, she would be the first one to punch him in the arm and tell him to get over it already. Guilt and shame for letting her down would cloak him for the rest of his life.
Oddly, when he was with Ree, the pain wasn’t so great that he couldn’t handle it. In fact, it was the first time since the ordeal happened six months ago that he felt a small sense of relief.
“Do you have a visual?” he asked when he couldn’t find anyone in the crowd staring at them. The crowd was thickening by the minute as the band kicked off their first song.
“No. It’s strange, though, because I could have sworn someone was locked onto us,” she admitted, casually casing the room. “Maybe behind us?”
“It’s definitely not cool to be caught checking everyone out when we’re supposed to only have eyes for each other,” he stated. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll stick around for a while. See if anything comes up.”
He could tell she was being too hard on herself when she felt like she missed something, and he respected her for it. It meant she cared a whole helluva lot about what she was doing. Sometimes, the passion could become misguided and a person could become too critical of themselves. Always pushing. Never giving themselves a well-deserved break. Constantly playing out scenarios in their minds when they should be sleeping.
No one operated well under such internal scrutiny. He should know. It was his past.
Was he doing it again? This time with Tessa’s death?
He had been over and over the scenario in his mind dozens of times. What could he have done differently? Of course, the most obvious was that he could have stopped her from being there altogether. That was the one his mind kept snapping back to. But on the scene, he should have intervened and stopped her from going inside the building. Of course, that would mean she would have to explain why her partner suddenly didn’t think she was fit to go inside like everyone else.
Tessa had given him those eyes that had been so good at communicating to him. They begged him to stop and let her do her job one more time. She’d already said once she became a desk jockey she would always be a desk jockey. Having a kid meant she would change her life. Having the kid on her own meant she needed to insure she would be coming home every night.
Tessa had never stressed about the dangers of the job in the past. She’d been changing before his eyes. He understood, approved even. But dammit, she should have come home that night instead of him.
Before he got too worked up over Tessa, he shifted his focus to Ree.
“I’m going to go sit in my chair now,” she said as though she’d been party to the mental discussion he’d just had.
“It’ll be good to have us facing opposite directions,” he said with very little enthusiasm. The truth was that he liked holding her in his arms. He liked the feel of her heartbeat against his body. And he liked how well she fit him. This seemed like a good time to remind himself they weren’t there to bond. He condemned himself once again for losing focus. If he’d been paying closer attention, he might have a description of the person who’d been watching them by now.
Ree moved across the table from him and casually picked up her beer. She glanced around as she started grooving to the beat. Her face was unreadable as to whether or not she was having the same physical reaction to Quint that he was having to her. He needed to know if her judgment was being affected. At least, that was what he told himself.
Setting her beer down, she smiled at Quint. It had the same effect as the sun burning through clouds, warming everything it touched with beams of light.
Quint couldn’t help but crack a smile over that one. Since when did he become a poet?
“Did you still want to try the mechanical bull?” he asked when he realized she couldn’t find anyone staring at them.
“I’d puke,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “I can barely fit any of this beer in.”
He had to laugh at her honesty. The beers were mostly for show. Neither would finish theirs.
“I doubt you’ll need dessert tonight,” he quipped, thinking there were a whole lot of other things he’d like to do instead but couldn’t.
She groaned before diverting her gaze, locking onto someone across the room. “It’s probably nothing but I’ve seen one of the guys over there at the restaurant.”
“Small towns can be like that,” he said.
She pulled lipstick and her phone out of her handbag.
“What are you planning to do with those things?” he asked, curious as to how those items went together.
“Watch and learn,” she said with a smirk. She uncapped the lipstick. Held her cell phone up. “Selfie mode turns this guy into a mirror.” She applied two coats of a deep red lipstick before pressing her lips together. “We can compare notes later.”
It dawned on him that she’d just snapped pictures of the guy in question.
“I know it’s still early, but I’m beat from the last few days at work,” she said. “Do you want to go home?”
Quint couldn’t get to his feet fast enough. There hadn’t been anything to see so far, and after watching Kelsey bolt around, he could only imagine how exhausting waiting tables must be for Ree. An iPad that had been attached to the table allowed him to pull up his check and then pay without signaling for the waitress.
Within minutes the two were headed out the door. Quint noticed a male standing near the exit. He had on a red flannel shirt with cutoff sleeves, a pair of jeans and a white Stetson. The man was probably five feet ten inches if Quint had to guess. The reason he wore cutoff sleeves was to show off the arm muscles of a lumberjack. Last time Quint checked, Texas had more cattle ranches than lumberyards. Quint shrugged. The guy looked familiar, though. Maybe going home to look at footage would help place him. Or not. The name came to Quint. The guy was Phillip.
“WHAT WAS PHILLIP doing there?” Ree couldn’t stop thinking about the man in the flannel shirt on the way home. There wasn’t much in the way of conversation between her and Quint. They were inching along, making progress. Quint now had an in at Greenlight, working on the computer. She was making ground on her relationships with Chef and Adrian. Fender was still a mystery. She hadn’t quite figured Charley out yet. And Zoey, that poor young woman, weighed heavily on Ree’s mind.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Quint said.
“Are you thinking what I am? He is the one responsible for paying the maid to spy on us?” she asked.
“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind,” he stated.
“Should we turn around and follow him?” She craned her neck around.
“There’s no need. He’s been behind me for the past three miles,” Quint stated. “If we had turned back, we would have played right into his hands. Our cover would have been blown. He looked me dead in the eyes when we walked out.” Quint pulled into the parking spot in front of the cabin as the vehicle behind them drove on past. Greenlight seemed to be rockin’ and rollin’. Relief washed over her that she didn’t have to work tonight. As busy as she’d been over the past few days, she wasn’t sure her feet could handle another shift.
A loud voice carried across the parking lot as they exited the sedan. She shot Quint a glance. He nodded. She recognized the voice as Adrian’s.
Moving purposefully, they rounded the dark side of the cabin that faced the street. The voice wasn’t coming from the parking lot; it came from behind the restaurant. There was a second voice, too. Fender’s.
Ree strained to make out the details of what they were saying. She pulled out her cell phone and hit the video button to try to get some kind of recording that could be sent to the lab later. She glanced around, thinking they needed to get closer. Quint was already taking action.
There was a gaggle of trees toward the back of the parking lot, separating the other cabins from Greenlight. The trees also acted as a sound barrier. Quint made eye contact as he eased toward the first tree.
It was a huge risk, but this could be the turning point they so desperately needed in the investigation. Then again, they might end up witnessing nothing more than a lover’s quarrel. But Fender and Adrian?
Ree had to really think about that one. A relationship could explain why Adrian had been so secretive and never wanted to talk about anything that went on at Greenlight. It could also explain why she seemed to be so protective of the kitchen. Were there other signs Ree had missed? Would a more experienced agent have seen the signs?
Before she had a chance to work herself up to a point of no return, she followed Quint. Tree by tree, they pushed closer as the pair of voices shot across the lot. It sounded like an argument, from the tone of the exchange. Again, Ree’s mind snapped back to the thought they were lovers. Again, she tried to discount the possibility.
Keeping an open mind was the hallmark of a great investigator. It would stop her from missing important details. Removing personal bias out of an investigation could be tricky. Mentally taking a step back to allow the facts to speak for themselves and not locking onto an opinion too early would allow the truth to bubble up to the surface.
She held her phone toward the quarrelers, hoping the sound quality would be good enough for the lab to analyze. This was definitely the time she wished she had a booster with her. They’d had to keep equipment to a minimum in the event Charley had connections to the owners of the cabin. Small towns had their charms and one of them was people tended to know each other. If there was a connection and a favor was called in, the cabin needed to be as clean as possible. Even the laptop’s screen saving password was encrypted. The only information someone could get out of “hacking” into his laptop would be exactly what the government agency wanted them to reveal—a fake screen set up by a genius tech agent. The person would be privy to a fake email account set up as Quint’s, and a desktop with links to a convincing but fake online computer degree program that appeared to be in process.
Ree strained to hear but couldn’t make out the words. Quint’s movements were impressive, to say the least. The man was stealth whereas she felt loud. Even his footsteps were silent, not a single crunch. He seemed to feel his way with calm, deliberate steps. She chalked it up to his years of practice and experience.
A door slammed. A curse was shouted. And then the sound of a motorcycle engine roaring to life ripped through the night. Fender took off, spewing gravel underneath his tires. This had all the signs of a lovers’ fight.
But Ree decided not to snap to judgment too quickly. She challenged herself to think about what else it might be as Quint linked their fingers and they made their way back to the cabin, careful not to draw attention.
Once safely inside, she huddled up with Quint and played back the video.
“The music is too loud in the background. The way sound carries, I couldn’t get a recording that is discernible to the naked ear,” she said on a frustrated sigh.
Quint stood there not two feet away from her. His arms were folded over his chest and his head bowed as he listened intently. “No, but I saw you reach for your phone the minute you heard voices. Your instincts are spot-on. It’s why I didn’t need to reach for mine. I saw what you were doing.”
His reassurance helped but her frustration was still high at her mistakes.
“You probably already realized you can send this off to the lab for analysis,” he continued when she didn’t respond. “And you’re right. They have pulled off some miracles. We can upload the video right now and get its place in line for analysis. Grappell can manage the process for us from there.”
She gave a slight nod at that.
Quint walked over to his laptop and booted it up. An alert filled the screen after he entered his password.
“Someone has been in the cabin,” he said.
Ree couldn’t get beside him fast enough. She perched on the edge of the couch, sitting so close their thighs touched. She’d grown accustomed to the electric current that came with contact. Anticipated it. Needed it?
Pushing the thought aside, she stared at the access warning that filled the screen. When someone besides Quint tried to access the computer, a picture was taken.
Quint’s fingers danced across the keyboard.
“Zoey?” she said. “What on earth would she be doing here trying to get into the computer?”
Quint seemed to be thinking long and hard. “If the abuse theory holds water, she might have gotten in a fight with her boyfriend or been kicked out of the motel where she was staying.”
“We make good tips,” Ree countered. “Why wouldn’t she have enough money to pay for a place?”
“Her boyfriend could have rented it,” he offered. “If he left her high and dry, she might not have another place to go.”
“You changed the locks.” Ree’s eyes widened. She glanced around. There weren’t a whole lot of places to hide in this small cabin. She held a finger up before popping to her feet. Not three minutes later, they cleared the place before proceeding. Thankfully, Zoey wasn’t there, or she would have overheard too much.
“A good skeleton key would work on what I bought from the hardware store,” he supplied.
“Seems like Zoey has many talents. I can’t help but wonder if she’s involved with Phillip in some way.” Ree moved to the fridge. Opening the door, she instantly noticed food was gone. “Wasn’t there some milk left in the carton?”
“There should be. I didn’t drink it,” he said.
Ree glanced at the trash under the sink. The carton was there.
“The cheese is missing too,” she noticed. There were other things gone—a pair of apples, lunch meat and half the lettuce. “Maybe your theory is right after all. She must be hungry, but I wonder what’s happening to her money. We both know that I make more than enough to cover food and put a roof over our heads.”
“She might have been robbed. A guy she was dating could have taken her money and disappeared. It might have been the reason she wanted to change shifts with you,” he offered. “I’m reaching here.”
Ree nodded. “I saw a huge bruise on her arm. She’s withdrawn, doesn’t really speak to Adrian or me.”
“It’s impossible to know what’s going on without digging into her circumstances a little more,” he continued. “She might have any number of addiction issues.”
Again, she agreed.
“There could be a relative in the background needing the money,” he surmised.
“Something is bothering me and I can’t quite pinpoint what it is,” she admitted.
He nodded. “Hold on to it, because intuition is usually right when backed by training and experience.”
She had all kinds of intuition and plenty of training, but not a good handle on Zoey. Confronting her at work tomorrow might get the answers Ree was searching for.