“Desk and outreach only,” Moske bellowed as he repeated his command. “And you can kiss your intern goodbye. I’m sending Crane up to Kalispell where they actually need help.”
Teeth sinking into a pencil so I wouldn’t bellow back, I waited until the man ran out of steam.
“In fact, I’ve got just the outreach job for you coming up,” he yelled, the sound of him furiously striking at his keyboard audible over his warbling baritone. “There’s some Pioneer Women’s thing…I’ll email you the details. You’ll need to find a historical outfit. At least the dress will hide your cast. Your appearance was already an embarrassment.”
I opened my mouth and let the pencil fall to my desk. Glaring at the phone, I tightened my grip on the receiver. Not only had Moske just said he was taking me off the case and putting me in a dress, but he wanted to bring my weight into it, too?
“It’s not a good thing when your supervisor feels sorry for you, Callahan.”
“No, sir,” I monotoned.
“It’s actually pretty pathetic.”
I stayed silent. I certainly wasn’t going to agree with the blowhard on that point.
“Can’t snap my fingers and make you thin, but you will stop being pathetic, Callahan. You will obey me,” he snarled. “This thing at the LC isn’t worth pursuing. Use the time to finish clearing Deacon’s junk out of the office. Send it to storage if you don’t want to shred it. When he dies, I’ll just order it incinerated.”
Hearing the venom in Moske’s voice, I picked up my pencil and jotted down a note.
Moske dislikes Deacon?
“Yes, sir,” I chirped. “Looking forward to that email, sir.”
My tongue retracted like I’d physically licked the man’s boot rather than pretending to do it with my patently fake enthusiasm for his suggested tasks.
“Anything else, sir?”
“No!” he snapped. “You’ve wasted enough of my time. You tell Crane he’s to report to Barr Monday morning.”
“Roger that, sir.” I hung up at the same time, the muscles of my face finally relaxing. At least Moske had given me one last day of using Thomas. That was better than a kick to the shin.
I winced at the thought of an actual kick.
“You okay?” Thomas asked, coming in with takeout for our lunches.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “You’re to report to Kalispell Monday.”
Sinking into the chair on his side of the desk, he groaned. “Not Barr again.”
“Sorry. Moske said I was to kiss you goodbye.”
The kid rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to think what Walker Turk would do to me if you did.”
I dropped my chin, my hand moving swiftly to cover my mouth. I’d had Tuesday and Wednesday alone in my apartment with Walker. The man had been insanely sweet, taking care of me like no one ever had. That I allowed all the coddling both pleased and confused me.
It wasn’t really my bag, was it? Letting someone look after me, letting go of the reins of control for any amount of time. Was it just my leg, or would I be able to give up some of my precious self-determination after my body healed?
I worried that, if I couldn’t, Walker would leave just like Nolan had. And, unlike Nolan, I knew I would miss my lumberjack cowboy if he faded from my life.
“Well,” I sighed, handing Thomas a sheet of paper filled top to bottom with my messy scrawl. “Get this done before you go and you won’t have to find out.”
He looked over the tasks I wanted him to complete. We both figured the raft wouldn’t have any prints and it would take weeks to get the results if it did because there was no active case at the moment. But the raft was brand new and expensive enough it would have been purchased at an outfitter instead of the sports section at a discount department store. So, among other things, I tasked Thomas with sending the picture from the driver’s license and the trail cam capture of the giant to all the outfitters between Billings and Willow Gap.
“When you’re done with that, tape up the boxes.”
“It’s a shame,” Thomas said, looking at the stacks that surrounded us. “Except for Moske, everyone says Deacon was a great agent.”
“Except for Moske,” I replied. “Everyone is right.”