Page 72 of Deputy Brand Gets Her Man
“No, no, I’ve already waited too long. You’ve given me a reason to do what must be done. I…I’ll tell her tonight. And I’ll tell her you’d like to talk to her.”
“Unofficially,” Willow said. “She doesn’t have to talk to me.”
She nodded.
“Do you um…do you happen to remember how much Elena weighed at birth?”
“Of course I remember. A woman doesn’t forget things like that. Eight pounds and three ounces.”
“Eight pounds and three ounces of solid gold,” Willow said. And she knew Juanita was wrong about one thing. De Lorean had known about his baby girl, somehow. Eight pounds and three ounces of solid gold, he’d written in his diary. He’d been referring to his daughter.
She’d suspected a baby as soon as she’d read the words. If it was gold, as Jeremiah apparently believed, he’d have just written eight pounds. But baby weights were always given, in pounds and ounces.
“Who all knew you were pregnant back then?” Willow asked.
“We kept it secret. I left town when I started showing. I still keep it to myself, though I imagine now that you know, and Elena will know, soon everyone will know.” She sighed heavily. “I don’t suppose anyone even cares. It’s not a scandal anymore, having a baby without a husband, or giving her away.”
“Not a scandal, ma’am. And I’m not fixin’ to tell anyone except for her two half-brothers. But I won’t do that until after I’ve talked to her and made sure she’s okay with it. Is that all right?”
She nodded. “She’ll want to know about her brothers. One of them’s a music star, after all.” Tilting her head, she asked, “What’s the other one like? Jeremiah?”
“He’s like…a chameleon. But I think I’ve glimpsed his true colors once or twice, and I can’t shake the notion that they’re good. They’re just…repressed, I think.” She realized she’d said way too much, letting her thoughts spill over.
Juanita was looking at her as if she’d lapsed into Armenian.
“He’s a decent man,” she said. “Thank you, Juanita. I appreciate you bein’ straight with me.”
“De nada,” she said. “It was time for it to be spoken.”
Willow left Juanita and drove to Mad Bull’s Bend, clocking in via the radio before pulling into Two Lilies, and around to the parking lot in back. The first vehicle she noticed was Jeremiah’s russet Jeep. It was parked amid a dozen other vehicles, but the only one she saw. She had to remind herself to scan the lot for local troublemakers, Barker Boys included, or maybe that motorcycle thief who’d dang near got her killed.
None were present, so that was good.
She spent most of every shift at Two Lilies. After all, it was the reason there even was a constant police presence in Mad Bull’s Bend. Frequently, but not regularly, she’d leave to take a drive around town, check in on all the other businesses. Sometimes she’d spend a little time at The Watering Hole, if the crowd seemed particularly large or rowdy.
She got out of her vehicle, pressed her lips and lowered her eyes. She didn’t really want to see Jeremiah. It was too easy to fall into those vivid blue eyes of his, too easy to believe whatever kind of deceptive game he’d play with her next.
Well, now she was the one keeping secrets.
Secrets he has every right to know. So does Ethan.
Her inner voice was not wrong. But she’d given Juanita her word that she would wait until tomorrow. And that was only another eighteen hours at most. She planned to talk to Elena Montrose first thing in the morning.
She followed the new stepping stone path from the edge of the parking lot around to the main entrance on the side of the building—big glass double doors with the Two Lilies logo. Every so often one of the stones had an arrow pointing the way to the entrance, and they stretched the entire boundary of the parking lot, so you couldn’t miss ‘em. Ethan and Lily had also installed two bright lights at either end of the parking lot, and made the in and out signs reflective.
Willow went through the double doors into a blast of juke box country—the band wouldn’t start until later. It was dim inside, the glass front walls in the large stage section with the stage and dance floor were still shuttered. A few people milled around, but the main action this early was through the archway in the original section, and as she crossed the dance floor, the din from there got louder.
In the original half of the place, what had once been Manny’s Cantina, the bar was bordered by a stairway on the near side, and double doors to the kitchen on the far. Nearly every stool was occupied. Most of the tables were, too, and the glass doors in this section were open wide, with patrons already occupying a few of the outdoor tables.
She scanned the inside, and got stuck on his sombrero.
Yeah, he was wearing it, back at his favorite table, sipping something brown. Sighing, she decided to face this and get it over with. He was family, she couldn’t let it fester and poison the clan.
She walked over. His eyes were on her all the way, had been on her, she realized, since the moment she’d come in. He had a line of sight clear to the door.
When she reached his table, he stretched out a leg underneath it and shoved the opposite chair out.
As invitations went, it was barely better than a grunt, but she sat down and nodded at his glass. “It’s too early for tequila.”
