Page 78 of Montana Memory

The way he said my name—it landed like a stone in my gut.

I glanced between them, throat suddenly dry. “Sorry, do I know you?”

The shorter one stepped forward. “Not yet. But we’d like to talk. Won’t take long.”

Everything in me screamed to run. Get out of here. Call Hunter. But I couldn’t. Not without making it obvious that I was rattled. And maybe I was, but I didn’t want these guys to see that.

I forced a smile, though I could feel it twitch at the edges. “Right. Well, unless this is about the goats, you’ll need to come back later. I’m working.”

They exchanged a look I didn’t understand.

The taller one adjusted his sleeves and said, “We think you might want to hear what we have to say.”

I took a small step back, keeping my spine straight and my expression carefully blank. But inside, my stomach had curled into a tight, cold knot. There was something about the way they moved. Controlled. Like they were trained to notice things the rest of us missed. The way they didn’t scan the animals or the barn like most visitors did, but instead kept their eyes locked on me.

And then it clicked. Of course. They were cops. I felt it in my chest before they even opened their mouths.

The taller one reached into his jacket, slow and deliberate, and held up a badge. “I’m Detective Johnson. This is Detective Kelly.”

No sirens, no handcuffs. Just quiet pressure and two sets of watchful eyes.

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

My legs screamed at me to bolt. But where would I go? There wasn’t a single place on this property I could get to that they couldn’t follow. And running would make me look guilty.

Besides, there wasn’t supposed to be a warrant out. We’d checked.

Still, my voice was hoarse when I said, “What’s this about?”

The one called Kelly ignored the question. “You are Jada Banks, correct?”

I nodded.

“We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Johnson said.

I tried to think—what would Hunter do? He’d stall. Get more info before giving any. Keep calm, keep his face blank, keep them on their heels.

I pulled in a breath through my nose and shook my head lightly. “Now’s not really a good time. I’m at work. My boss’ll be back soon, and I’ve got a lot to finish.”

Kelly’s gaze flicked around the property. “Is anyone else here?”

That question should feel normal from a police officer. A safety thing, where they didn’t want to be blindsided. But every hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was suddenly too aware of how alone I was.

I forced a smile I didn’t feel and ignored the question. “You should come back tomorrow. I need to get back to work.”

And without waiting for a response, I turned and walked straight into the barn, shutting the door behind me with a quiet, deliberate click, wishing there were a lock. I held my breath, straining to hear the sound of tires on gravel, the growl of an engine pulling away.

But there was nothing. No doors slamming. No retreating footsteps. Instead, I heard the barn door creak open behind me.

They’d followed me.

My spine went rigid as I turned, trying to look composed even though my heart was trying to climb up into my throat. I didn’t know what my rights were. I just tried to think of what Hunter would say: don’t volunteer anything, don’t lie if you don’t have to, don’t panic.

I was already failing the last one.

The cheap phone Hunter had given me was in my backpack, which I’d left back in our cabin. Not that it would help. I only had two numbers saved—Hunter’s, and the one for Pawsitive Connections.

Johnson stayed near the entrance, his hands in his coat pockets, relaxed like we were just chatting about the weather. Kelly wandered farther in, eyes sweeping the interior of the barn. Toward the back door. Which meant I couldn’t keep them both in my line of sight.

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