Page 17 of Hard Knock Hero

“For now. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”

His mouth worked like he was chewing up something especially disgusting. “Fine. I’ve got five minutes, but after that I have to see to the motorists who are stranded because of the bridge being closed. We’re organizing a coat drive.”

Motorists. I liked that. Here, the speech had a different clip to it than in Southern California. A different drawl.

I followed him into his office. “People drive through Colorado in January without a coat?”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered. Owen shut the door to his office and plopped into the chair behind his desk. His cowboy hat rested crown-down on the console table behind him. Owen’s hair was buzzed in a high and tight. Made me wonder if he was ex-military. “Thought I asked you to keep your head down,” Owen said. “Yet first thing the next morning, you’re parading over here like you want everyone in Hartley to see you. Like you’re asking for trouble.”

“Not asking for it. But not turning down any invites, either. Should they come my way.” Though I decided it was best not to share my encounter with Mitch outside the coffee shop.

Owen’s scowl darkened. “You know what? I don’t appreciate that attitude. You might be Jessi’s brother,supposedly, but that doesn’t mean I won’t throw you in jail if you step out of line.” He pounded the desk with his index finger. “I want to see some ID. For all I know, you’ve got outstanding warrants in other places.”

My respect for him grew slightly. “Don’t have ID. Sorry.”

He stood up from his chair, palms landing with a smack on his desktop. “Turn out your pockets. Now.”

I did. I tossed my wallet, phone, my car keys, and the keys I’d borrowed from Jessi onto the surface. Owen grabbed the wallet and flipped it open. “Where’s your driver’s license?”

“I must’ve misplaced it somewhere last night.” Specifically, when I gave it to Jessi. She still had it. And my credit cards were back at the diner, too, tucked safely in a drawer in the kitchen. I hadn’t thought it wise to walk through town with a credit card for “Aiden Shelborne” if I was supposed to be somebody else.

“You’re playing games with me, Novo, and I won’t stand for it. If you’re hiding things, I’m going to find out.” He plopped into his desk chair and rolled it up to his computer. “I want your state of residence and date of birth. I’m going to run a background search on you right now. So park yourself in that seat.”

“I’m from…Virginia.” Jessi had said her brother was from there, and I decided to be honest in case she’d already mentioned it to Owen. I plucked a date of birth from thin air, recited it, and sat. But the weaknesses in this story were quickly becoming apparent. I knew nothing about Jessi’s brother. Hell, maybe there were arrest warrants out for the guy. Or pictures all over social media of a man who clearly wasn’t me.

We were about to find out.

Owen started tapping on his keyboard. I waited to see if I would land myself in jail for false statements to a peace officer. Maybe this entire charade was about to go up in smoke. If that happened, I would explain and hope that Owen’s sympathy for Jessi extended to the guy who was helping defend her. I was in this office forherwellbeing, not mine.

But after several long minutes, Owen sat back in his chair and glared at me. “I can’t seem to find anything about you. You’re a ghost, which is pretty rare in this day and age. Especially with such an unusual name.”

Rare indeed. Trace Novo must’ve hated social media as much as I did. “Maybe the problem is with your internet connection,” I supplied.

“Or you’re aliar. I didn’t even find a driver’s license record in Virginia.”

“Are you calling Jessi a liar too?” I asked calmly.

Owen’s jaw clenched. Released.

“I’m not here because I want to cause problems for you,” I said. “I’m here for my sister. She’s got nobody else to stand up for her the way she needs. You going to deny that?”

He stared me down a bit longer before reluctantly shaking his head. “But you weren’t around for Jessi before. Were you?”

That was something that had bothered me last night about Jessi’s story. She hadn’t called her brother after Jeremy Rigsby put her in the hospital. Seemed like a glaring omission. If she had trusted him, why wouldn’t she have called him back then?

But my questions about Trace could wait until later.

“I regret that,” I said. “But I’m herenow. Let me do what I can for her. We’ll say that you called me in this morning to question me. Nobody has to know if you answer a few of mine as well.”

“All right,” he grumbled after some more glaring. “This is only because it’s for Jessi.”

“My thoughts exactly.” I wondered just how much interest he felt toward her, but I pushed that aside. “Jessi told me that Jeremy Rigsby is on his way back to Hartley. What do you know about that?”

“Jeremy just got his release papers. He was at a correctional facility near Denver and he’s heading home. The bridge closure has delayed him, and the last I heard, he was going to wait it out instead of taking the long detour around. But for weeks now, his cousins have been trying to clear the way for him in a more figurative sense. When I’ve asked them about their intentions toward Jessi, they’ve denied and denied some more.”

“So youhavetried to stop them from harassing her?”

He leaned his forearm on his desk. “OfcourseI have. When Jessi tells me something specific, I look into it. But the problem is that she doesn’t tell me much. And then, when I talk to Chester and Mitch and their guys, nobody knows a damn thing. So don’t sit there and accuse me of not doing enough when youhaven’t been here.”

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