Page 39 of Finding His Redemption

Nessie’s stomach dropped. “Bailee Cooper?” She’d known the girl. Pretty, young, from a rough family that mostly kept to themselves out in the mountains. The kind of girl who had big dreams but limited options. Bailee had been a regular patron at Nessie’s Place until a few months ago when she’d suddenly quit her waitressing job down the street at The Griddle and Grind Diner. Nessie had heard rumors she’d found work with Craig Foster, the developer who was buying up half of Bravlin County. She’d been quiet, kept to herself mostly, but she’d always been polite.

“That’s the one,” Dewey said, nodding gravely, though his eyes held a gleam. “Found her all torn up near the service road. She was stabbed. Multiple times. And that’s not even the worst part.”

Her stomach somersaulted. She hadn’t known the details. Hadn’t wanted to know them. “I’d rather not hear the worst part.”

“Oh, right.” Dewey looked deflated for a second, but perked up fast. “Well, at least the sheriff’s got himself a suspect already.”

Boone’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. “Dewey.”

“What? It’s public knowledge. That new fella you got staying here was seen walking that very road that morning. Real convenient timing, if you ask me.” Dewey’s gaze darted between Boone and River like he was gauging their reactions. “Course, I’m not saying he did it. Just saying it’s mighty suspicious.”

The blood drained from Nessie’s face, and she felt suddenly lightheaded. This was her fault. Her careless words to Sheriff Goodwin had already spread through town like wildfire, twisted and reshaped with each telling.

“Nobody asked you,” River said. “Don’t you have more packages to deliver?”

Dewey’s smile faltered. “Hey now, I’m just repeating what folks are saying. Can’t blame the messenger, right?”

“Can if the messenger’s got a big mouth and no sense,” Boone said, his words full of the kind of quiet menace that made smart men take a step back.

Dewey wasn’t smart. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “All I’m saying is, maybe you boys ought to be more careful about who you’re letting stay here. All of us still remember that Creed guy and all the trouble he caused.”

“Dewey.” Walker’s voice cracked the air like a whip. The ranch owner strode across the yard from the kennels with Jax trailing behind him. “Time for you to go.”

The postal worker’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m just finishing up my deliveries,” he said, hands raised in surrender, but his eyes fixed on Jax with undisguised curiosity.

Jax stopped a few paces away. He looked like he’d been dragged backward through hell. Dark circles under his eyes, stubble shadowing his jaw, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. His movements were stiff, and he rolled his shoulders like they ached.

Walker stepped between them. “Then finish and go.”

“No offense meant. Just making conversation.” He tipped his hat to Walker, but paused as he passed Nessie, his hand brushing her arm. “You take care now, Nessie girl. These are dangerous times.”

Nessie tightened her grip on the muffin tin until her knuckles ached. “It’s no more dangerous than any other time, Dewey.”

“Dewey,” Walker growled. “Get in your truck. Drive away.”

This time, Dewey got the message. He scurried toward his mail truck, calling over his shoulder, “Y’all have a blessed day now.”

The silence that followed his departure was thick enough to cut with a knife. Nessie sensed Jax’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed sandpaper.

“Muffins,” she said finally, holding up the tin like it explained everything. “I brought muffins.”

“You’re an angel,” River said, plucking the tin from her hands with surprising gentleness. “Let me guess, chocolate chip for me because I’m sweet as can be?”

“Something like that,” she managed, grateful for the momentary distraction.

Boone stepped closer, his massive frame blocking the morning sun. “What brings you out here so early, Nessie?”

“She needs an excuse other than muffins?” River asked, his mouth already full.

Her throat closed up. She could feel the weight of all their eyes on her, but Jax’s gaze felt heaviest. When she finally worked up the courage to look at him, his expression was unreadable. Jaw tight, arms crossed, waiting.

“I need to talk to Jax,” she finally managed. “Alone.”

River’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, this is getting interesting.”

“River,” Boone warned.

“Go find something else to do.” Walker jerked his head toward the barn. “All of you.”

---