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"An investor, huh? Investing in meth labs and pill mills?" I quipped, not hiding my skepticism.
"It’s all legitimate business," he insisted, but his eyes darted away, a tell I’d learned to spot a mile off.
When I finally stepped out of the interrogation room, the sky was turning the soft blue of early morning. I leaned against the cool wall of the hallway, letting out a long breath. The station was quiet now, the overnight shift change underway.
My thoughts drifted back to Heather as I sat alone in the dim light of the station’s break room, the clock ticking softly in the background. Her image was vivid in my mind: her determined stance as she stood among her horses, her hands gentle but firm, her voice filled with passion for her work. Watching her with the animals, seeing the respect and care she gave to each one, it was clear that the ranch wasn't just a piece of property to her—it was a part of her soul.
It was damn hard to reconcile that image with the grimy details being laid out in the interrogation room. With their shifty eyes and caged answers, the suspects painted a picture of the ranch that was at odds with everything I had seen with Heather. How could someone who radiated such warmth and integrity be involved in something so sordid? Yet, in my line of work, I'd seen too often how appearances could deceive, how deeply the roots of corruption could grow, even in the most unexpected places.
As a detective, it was my duty to follow every lead, remain detached, and view every individual as a potential suspect until proven otherwise. This was the creed I lived by, the foundation of my career. But as I sifted through the newly gathered evidence, my professional resolve battled with the personal impressions I had formed of Heather. Each piece of evidence that hinted at a connection to the ranch tightened the knot in my stomach, not just because of what it meant for the case but because of what it could mean for her.
I found myself wrestling with a growing respect for her, a respect that was edging dangerously close to something deeper, something decidedly personal.
Chapter Eighteen
Heather
The morning sun cast a warm glow across the ranch as I stepped outside with a cup of steaming coffee. I watched the ranch hands moving about under the broad Montana sky. It should have been a peaceful scene, but underneath the surface, my mind was tumultuous. Questions had been gnawing at me since discovering those cryptic notes and the mysterious key in Aunt Dina's office.
I walked towards the stables, intending to clear my head with some hands-on work, but I couldn't shake the nagging doubts about what might have been happening here before I took over. The possibility that Aunt Dina might have been involved in something illicit was like a dark cloud looming over her memory. I hated thinking about it, hated even more that part of me needed to know the truth, no matter how ugly it might be.
As I approached the stables, I spotted Tyler, who was already busy grooming one of the horses. His presence was a comfort, yet also a reminder of the complexities of my current situation. I needed to talk to someone, and he was the only one I felt might understand—or know something, anything that could help me piece things together.
"Morning, Tyler," I said, trying to sound casual as I leaned against the stable door.
He looked up with a smile, "Hey, Heather. Early start for you today, huh?"
"Yeah, just... had a lot on my mind, you know?" I replied, watching his reaction closely.
Tyler nodded, continuing his work but attentive. "Anything I can help with? You know, ranch stuff or... otherwise?"
I hesitated, the words I needed to say swirling in my throat. This was my chance to ask, to probe a little without sounding too direct. "Actually, I was wondering about Aunt Dina. You worked here for her a long time, right? Did she ever seem... I don’t know, worried or stressed about something? Not just ranch troubles, but... something more?"
Tyler paused, his brush in mid-air, then continued grooming the horse a bit more slowly. "Dina was pretty tight-lipped and really kept things to herself. But sure, she had her moments like anyone else. Why? Something wrong?"
I shrugged, trying to mask the depth of my concern. "Just trying to sort through some old papers, and some things didn’t quite add up. Probably nothing, but you know, just making sure everything is above board."
He didn't say anything for a moment, then looked up with a serious expression. "Heather, Dina cared a lot about this place, about keeping it running. Maybe some of her decisions weren’t the best in hindsight, but she did what she thought she had to do. If there’s something off in the books, it might just be her way of coping with bad seasons, you know?"
I nodded, taking in his words. It was a non-answer, but his tone suggested he knew more than he was letting on. However, pressing him felt wrong. I didn't want to push him into a corner or make him choose between his loyalty to Aunt Dina and his honesty with me. "Thanks, Tyler. I appreciate it," I said quietly, deciding to leave it at that for now.
Changing the subject, I helped him with the horse, trying to focus on the task at hand. As we worked, my thoughts kept drifting back to the files waiting in the office. There was something there, something that might shine a light on the dark corners of the ranch's recent history.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. I was physically present, feeding the horses, checking the fences, discussing schedules with the hands, but mentally I was miles away, lost in a maze of doubt and suspicion.
Dinner time found me alone in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal, the house too quiet around me. The silence seemed to echo with the weight of my thoughts. After eating, I washed up and headed back to the office. The papers hadn’t moved, but the questions they posed seemed to have grown louder.
Sitting down at the desk, I pulled out the file marked "To File" again. My hands trembled slightly as I spread out the documents, the cryptic notes, and the mysterious key. What was Aunt Dina involved in? And how could I uncover the truth without tarnishing the legacy she left behind?
As I dug deeper, the sun set outside, casting long shadows across the room. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of paper and my own uneven breaths. This wasn't just about the ranch anymore—it was about finding the truth, however hard it might be to face.
The office felt like it was closing in on me, the walls shrinking with each document I shuffled through. I'd spent so much time poring over Aunt Dina's meticulous records, but the further I dug, the more I realized how out of my depth I was. It wasn’t just the complexity of the paperwork; it was the sinking feeling that whatever secrets these files held were beyond my ability to decipher alone.
Exasperated, I shoved the papers away, rubbing my temples as I leaned back in the chair. The quiet of the ranch at night was usually soothing, but now it felt oppressive. I needed help, and there was only one person who had the resources and, perhaps, the incentive to assist me.
I reached for my phone, hesitating as I dialed the number. Danny had been both a thorn and a support since I'd arrived. Each interaction with him was a dance of wariness and unexpected camaraderie. But tonight, I needed the detective more than the adversary.
The phone rang twice before Danny picked up. "Lopes here."
