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Two days after the body had been found at Kurt Chase’s ranch, Clay decided that going over paper files from the past thirty years wasn’t enough. Their victim probably wasn’t in old missing persons files from the county. Clay hadn’t been able to give the case his full attention yet, but he knew Bailey was working hard on going over everything—when she’d been able.
He’d had to put her on other things for the past two days, just to help clear out the other deputies’ caseloads.
Now he had to turn his attention to the Chase body while he could.
He needed to talk to the man who’d held the job back when Clay had still been in elementary school.
That it was Bert Dillon had him making the decision to stop by after his shift instead of on it. He always spent more time with Jake’s father than he intended when he stopped by.
He hadn’t been out there since shortly before what had happened to Bailey. It was about time he went.
He couldn’t keep being a coward over the place where Bailey had almost died.
Besides, Bert just might have the information that he needed.
Despite the fact that Bert had spent time in jail for police corruption eighteen years ago, he still trusted the man's assessment on a few things. The guy had been a decent cop—until the biggest TSP scandal in Texas history had resulted in multiple arrests in the Value department, including Bert, Lou Moore, Pete Holte, Shawn Jennson, and half a dozen other men. Rumor was that Bert had been set up, but the older man had never said.
He’d told Clay once that things had happened the way they needed to, and that was that. No use looking back. They had to keep moving forward.
One of those men had retaliated against Bert's whistle-blowing with a high-powered rifle—paralyzing Bert's son Jake and wounding his daughter Kyra.
It was that day that Clay had vowed to join the Texas State Police and prevent others from being hurt the way his close friend Jake had been.
He hadn't been out to Bert's in months.
He just hadn't. Every time he'd thought about it, he'd found some excuse not to.
Guilt. He should have had an extra guard on Kyra that morning. Hell, he should have watched her himself.
Bailey almost hadn't made it off Bert Dillon's property that day. And then she had damned near not made it off the operating table.
He hadn't been able to get her off his mind the entire drive from his office to the Dillon ranch.
No surprise. Bailey had moved into his brain and taken up residency there over a year ago when she’d first walked into his office, looking so sweet and loveable and ridiculously small in the green TSP uniform.
Bert was the one to answer the door. Bert and his family had once lived in town near the sheriff's office. Just up the road from the house Clay lived in now. Until the drive-by had shattered their reality. After that, Bert had moved into his parent's home at the ranch. Eventually, he'd inherited it.
"Glad you're here, son. You can join us for dinner. It's been a while since we had company. I'll have my girl set another place."
Clay stiffened. The only girl he could think of at Bert's would have been Kyra. He hadn't known she was back in town.
She'd spent years avoiding Value, after all. She should still be in St. Louis with that asshole fiancé of hers. "If it's no trouble."
"None at all. I make plenty. Keep trying to get her to eat more than what she does, but you know how that goes. She doesn't eat enough to keep a kitten alive."
Clay had no real choice; he followed Bert through the warm, comfortable home toward the kitchen.
A skinny blonde had her back turned toward him, but Clay knew. With one heartbeat, he recognized her.
He’d just seen her four hours ago, before he’d cut her loose to pick up a file in Finley Creek before the therapy session she’d barely wanted to tell him she had.
How had she gotten here?
What in the hell was Bailey doing leaning over Jake like that?
He cleared his throat.
Bailey jumped and jerked around. "Sheriff Addy!"
"Clay's going to be joining us tonight." Bert looked at her. "You grab the boy a plate, sweetie?"
Bailey spun, stretching that tight little body up until she could reach into a cabinet. Like she'd done it a hundred times before. A thousand.
Clay looked over at Jake in time to see his friend's appreciation written on his face when Jake looked at her ass. Which was far too close to Jake for Clay’s liking.
What in the three hells was Bailey doing having dinner at Jake's? Dressed in thin sweats and a narrow pink T-shirt that hugged everything she had.
His breath stopped.
Bailey wasn't wearing a damned bra.
Right there in Jake's kitchen, she'd practically bared it all.
It took him a moment to realize she was wearing something, maybe a sports bra, under that T-shirt. Dark-blue cotton contrasted with pale peach skin and peeked out from beneath the pink of her shirt.
It didn't matter. His damned body had tightened with two urges. Number one had been to ram his fist into Jake's leering face. Jake had no right to look at her that way. No right at all.
Number two had been to scoop her up and carry her out of there. Back to his place. Where he could show her exactly what she did to him. Where he could explore that blue cotton in more depth.
Neither one was exactly smart. " I didn't expect you to be here."
Jake rolled closer, his son clutched to his lap with one hand. He smirked at Clay. No doubt the other man knew exactly what Clay had noticed about the sweet little blonde in their midst. "Where else would she be? Bailey lives with me—us—after all."
Oh, Jake always had been an asshole.
But why in the hell hadn't someone warned him about this?
"Does she? I didn't know."
A look of censure hit Bert's eyes. "She's been with us since she was discharged."
He'd left it unsaid that Clay should have known where his deputy was. Hell, he was right. He hadn't even sent her a damned fruit basket four months ago. After he’d left her in the hospital, he’d wanted to erase her from his mind because the memories of what she’d endured had threatened to consume him. Cowardly of him, and he knew it. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I thought. I'm sure Jeremy mentioned it a time or two. Or Veri."
A lie, and they all knew it.
He hadn't wanted to know where she was. It was as simple as that.
If he had known, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't have camped out on the damned porch just to make sure she was still ok. Every night in his dreams, he dreamed that she wasn't.
That would wear on a man.
She didn't look him in the eye, but she set him a place at the table. Next to Bert's. Across from Jake. Far from hers.
Bailey took the seat opposite Bert's. The baby's high chair was pushed up next to her corner. Where she and Jake could both reach him. Bert handed her a plate for the baby, and she checked it.
Within moments, she was feeding Jake's kid. Like she had the right to. Like Jake expected her to. Like Liam was her baby.
Clay's gaze met Jake's again. And this time, he didn't doubt it one damned bit. Jake was gloating. Almost daring Clay to say something. He bit back the urge to do just that.
If she wanted to live with Jake Dillon and play mommy to the guy's son, then that was her business. Not his.
Never Clay's.