Page 51 of Killer on the Homestead
Dad squinted, shaded his eyes. “Looks like Rosalie’s truck is coming on up,” he said, not engaging with Duncan’s comment at all.
“She wants to take a look through the bunks. I don’t imagine you could make sure no one comes back while we do that?”
Dad nodded grimly. “I’ll make sure. Everyone’s out, either in the south or north pasture, and Terry is at the hospital. I’ll keep an eye out for anybody returning and give you a call if I see someone headed that way.”
“Thanks.” He hesitated a minute, because leaving Dad alone seemed like a bad idea.
“You go on. I want to get to the bottom of this, before another boy winds up dead or this close to it. You go on up and meet her there. I won’t crumble apart.”
“No, you never have.” So Duncan couldn’t allow himself to either. Duncan patted his father on the shoulder, then walked toward Rosalie’s approaching truck. They’d get to the bottom of it. If anyone could, it was Rosalie.
Once he reached the truck, she rolled down the window and leaned out, so he headed to the driver’s side.
“Hop in,” she greeted. “I’m going to park down at your cabin. Then walk up to the bunks. The less chance of someone noticing me poking around the bunkhouse, the better.”
It was a good thought, so Duncan followed her instructions. He climbed into the passenger seat, then looked over at her asshe drove. She’d put on a little makeup, but he figured it was just to hide how tired she looked.
She pulled to a stop in front of his cabin, but he didn’t get out right away. He reached across the center console, swept his thumb under her eye. “You ever going to sleep, Red?”
She studied him for a minute, neither of them leaning into the touch or away from it. Almost sizing it up, deciding what to do about it. But she didn’t react either way. Just kept still and fixed him with her own stern look.
Which was a lot different thanlast night. Before everything had gone off the rails. But he thought of his dad, torn up about Owen and the people who didn’t care about him, and knew he needed to focus on getting to the bottom of this.
Not figuring out him and Rosalie.
“You ever going to not be in pain, Ace?” she finally asked him after all those beats of silence.
He sighed in spite of himself, dropped his hand, and rotated his bad arm a little. “Feels like the answer is no, but it just takes time. The pharmacy said it might be a day or two before they can get the prescription filled.”
“You’re telling me a millionaire can’t get himself some pain pills before a few days?”
He scowled a little, because there probably were strings he could have pulled, but he didn’t like pulling them here. It felt…embarrassing.
“I’ll be just fine.”
“No doubt. You need your sling? Something to take the edge off?”
He glared at her. “You babying me?”
“If you need babying, look somewhere else.”
“Yeah, you like to pretend you’re real tough, Rosalie, but you know what’s clear to me?”
“What?”
“You’re a big old softie.”
She snorted. “You’re a little delusional there, Ace,” she said, hopping out of the truck before he could reply.
But he knew he wasn’t. There were people she had a soft spot for, and somehow, he happened to be one of them. It didn’t hurt his ego any that she seemed frustrated about it or in denial about it. She’d get over it at some point.
But first, they had some mysteries to solve.
They walked upto the bunkhouse. Rosalie considered bringing up last night. Laying down some ground rules. Like maybe that it was a one-off.
But she knew she’d be lying to herself and him if she said any of that, and since now wasn’t the time or place to try to dig into a lie—especially after thesoftieaccusation—she decided not to mention it at all.
And if she was irritatedhedidn’t bring it up, didn’t even mention it or try to pursue a line of conversation about it, well… She’d deal with that later. When he wasn’t accusing her of being asoftie.
