Page 69 of Highball Rush
We parked and went inside. A tired Cash went straight for the couch, curling up in the corner and putting his head on his paws. Gibson locked the door behind us, but I compulsively checked it several times before I felt like I could walk away. I checked the lock on the back door while Gibson closed the curtains.
“You’re freaking me out right now,” I said, finally. “What’s going on?”
“Some guy in town started asking me questions,” he said. “I think he was trying to find out why I’d been brought in by the sheriff before you came back.”
I could feel the color drain from my face. “What did he say?”
“A bunch of stuff about how people talk in towns like this, and how Bootleg can’t let shit go. But it was the last thing he said. Something about how we live in a dangerous world and some things are meant to stay buried.”
I swallowed hard and when I spoke, my voice shook. “What did he look like?”
“Probably in his late forties or so. Blond hair. Plain clothes. Almost forgettable. His nose was crooked.”
“Crooked nose…”
“Do you think you know who he is?”
I nodded. “I might. He sounds like a guy who worked for my father when I was a kid.”
“Why do I think you don’t mean he was your dad’s gardener?”
Memories ran through my mind, like a film reel. “No. I remember him. He was like a cross between a private investigator and a thug. I’m pretty sure he was one of the men doing my father’s dirty work. He’d give him jobs and talk about how important they were. I can’t think of his name.”
Gibson waited while I struggled to remember.
“Lee Williams,” I said suddenly. “That was his name.”
“I’m pretty sure he was carrying a gun.”
“Oh god,” I said. “I’m not sure why I know this, but I think if he let you see it, he wanted to scare you.”
“Well, it goddamn fucking worked,” he said, almost shouting again. “Jesus, Callie, this fucking guy shows up asking questions and then I can’t find you. I was losing my mind.”
“I’m sorry. I texted you to tell you what I was doing. I didn’t know he was here.”
“I know, it ain’t your fault.” He raked his fingers through his hair, the veins in his forearms sticking out. “I didn’t have my phone, and I just…”
“Do you think he knew I was here?”
He let out a breath and dropped his arms to his sides. “No. I think he was trying to figure out if I knew something, or if I’d brought in new evidence.”
“If the judge’s lawyer couldn’t get information out of Sheriff Tucker, they’d send someone to poke around. It makes sense.”
He nodded, but none of the tension had left his body. He had a groove between his eyebrows and his arms were flexed, veins bulging.
He took a step toward me and I took a step back. “You need to be careful.”
“I know, but what do you want me to do?” I asked. “Stay tethered to you all the time?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
He moved closer, the intensity in his eyes making me feel raw and exposed. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I backed into the wall. “Why do I feel like you’re mad at me?”
He put his hands on the wall on either side of me, caging me in. His imposing presence made me feel tiny by comparison, and his eyes never left mine.
