Page 85 of Wildflower and Whiskey
He held me in a way that steadied me in his arms. In his house I felt safe, surrounded by warm wood and soft light, my son asleep down the hall. Even with the bad guys circling the town, for the first time I didn’t feel like prey. I felt like part of something that would not break.
CHAPTER 36
Phoenix
I woke before the house. It was an old habit carved out by years of opening the brewery at dawn, of checking lines and valves when the rest of Val-Du-Lys still slept. Except this morning it wasn’t barley or steel on my mind. It was the woman in my bed and her son in the next room breathing easy in a place they could call home.
On my phone, the camera grid showed four calm squares, the front porch, back deck, kitchen door, and orchard path. The motion light had triggered twice around 3:00 a.m. and the video caught a fox nosing the compost bin, then wind in the maples, but nothing human and for that I was grateful.
I set water on for coffee and padded down the short hall. The door to the room beside mine, which was Braden’s now, had the door cracked open. Inside, soft light poured into the room. Braden had drifted on his stomach, his bum in the air. I stood there longer than I meant to, just listening.
Our room was dimmer. Elyna had rolled onto my side sometime in the night, sheets tangled at her waist, hair a golden tumble on my pillow. I could still feel the echo of her palms on my shoulders, the press of her mouth, the way she’d said “ourroom” like she’d tested the words and decided to keep them. Something in my chest went soft and fierce all at once.
I brushed a kiss against her temple, and she stirred, not quite waking. “Coffee,” I whispered. “And toast you’ll pretend you don’t want.”
She hummed softly. “I always want toast.”
I grinned and backed out of the room since my phone was vibrating. Becket’s name lit up the screen.
“Morning,” he said without preamble. “Two things. Patrol ran both plates again at four. Same vehicles were still circling river road and the sugar shack, but my cars didn’t approach them. Our guys at The Frosted Mug made contact with a runner last night; he’s jumpy. Also, we pulled headers on those texts to Elyna. You were right, they’re bouncing through a relay app.”
“Which app?”
“A not-so-clever one. Spoofs the number cleanly and masks the sender. But the network pings say a few messages originated from a public Wi-Fi in Montreal in the Plateau neighborhood. Other hits from a cell tower north of the city on the autoroute. None from inside Val-Du-Lys.”
I leaned my shoulder to the kitchen beam and stared through to the orchard. “So either Riley isn’t here, or someone has his phone and the brains to run it through a relay.”
“Exactly. We can’t clear him. But the pattern screams distance.” Papers shuffled on his end. “Also, that Bernadette at the daycare?”
“Yeah,” I waited.
“I had a uniform stop by. She’s been ‘chatting’ with Colette more than she admitted. I told the director their policy iszerodiscussion with non-authorized relatives. We’ll keep a car near Birch at drop-off and pickup for the next week.”
“Thanks, bro.” The word tasted like relief. “We moved Elyna and Braden into my place last night.”
Becket paused, and when he spoke again his voice changed to less cop and more brother. “About time.”
A small smile spread my lips because he wasn’t wrong. “Keep me posted on the plates,” I said. “And, Beck? No hero moves. Eyes and ears.”
“I know my job,” he said dryly, then added softer, “And Phoenix? You’re doing yours.”
I ended the call. The coffeepot was full and ready. By the time the toast popped, Braden had started up a low babble. I lifted him from his crib, warm from his blankets and unbothered by any of the mess that had become our lives. He patted my jaw.
“Let’s go find your mom.”
Elyna was sitting against the headboard when we came in, hair braided over one shoulder, my T-shirt on her looked too good. She opened her arms, and Braden dove, headfirst, belly laugh ricocheting off the walls.
“Hey,” she said to me over Braden’s shoulder, eyes still soft from sleep. “You stood guard again?”
“Fox at 3:00 a.m.,” I said. “He just passed through.” I turned out of our room. “Be back in a second. Couldn’t hold Braden and coffee.”
I padded back to the kitchen and grabbed the toast and coffee and went back to our room. The smile she hit me with landed in the center of my chest as I handed her the mug, set the toast on the nightstand, and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“Becket called,” I said. “They’ve been reviewing the messages. Whoever it is used a relay app. It showed a few hits coming from a Montreal public Wi-Fi, another from a tower north on the highway. No origin inside Val-Du-Lys.”
Her fingers tightened on the mug. “So… it might not be Riley. Or it might be Riley, but he’s not here.”
“Right.” I kept my voice even.
