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The bones, the luggage, and the endless questions were all more than enough to occupy my mind, and I didn’t have the space to think about Connor. There was no room for distractions, especially not one as frustratingly attractive and complicated as Connor.
What was I thinking when I got involved with him? I should have known better. It was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment I couldn’t afford to repeat. The memory of his touch, the heat of his kisses—all needed to be locked away, buried under the responsibilities and duties I owed to this town and this case.
I showered—and fuck if I could forget what had happened in there last night—dressed, then grabbed my keys and headed out, locking the door behind me. There was work to be done and no time for regrets. As I drove to meet Wyatt, I forced my mind back to the case details, determined to stay focused on what mattered.
Whatever was between Connor and me would have to wait. If it happened again—and I wouldn’t let it because it was too much—I would deal with it then. For now, it was the luggage, the bones, and this awesome coffee.
Freaking Connor.
I arrivedat the Collier Springs ME’s office, a satellite of the larger Jackson labs. The building was small but well-equipped, and it was our closest lab for processing, saving us from heading out to Jackson for routine work. Dr. Xavier Reynolds, the medical examiner, was already waiting. He was a severe man, his intense blue eyes framed by furrowed brows, giving him an air of serious thought. His wife, Tally, was next to him, also a scientist with some specific connection to forensic work, although I don’t know what. She was one of those people with endless enthusiasm, and she never failed to make me smile with her quirky personality.
“Thanks for coming from Jackson on such short notice,” I said.
“The case is too interesting not to get involved, Sheriff,” Tally replied with a bright smile, her wild, curly red hair bouncing as she spoke. Her round, tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose added to her eccentric charm. “As a forensic conservator, I’ll be working on the contents of the luggage. Xavier gets the boring bones bit.”
“Bones are not boring,” Xavier defended, but she kissed the tip of his nose, and he grinned at her teasing.
“So, what can you tell me?” I asked, eager to hear from either of them.
Xavier’s grin slipped, and his expression grew serious. “Some of the bones look human, others not, bovine or equine maybe, we won’t know until we analyze them, but it’s a jumble right now, and we don’t know which matches up with which. I’ve called in a favor with a forensic anthropologist to assist with the identification, and we’ll attempt to get a DNA panel.” He gestured to Tally.
“Now, as to the luggage…” Tally’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “We’ll need to take it to Casper for a thorough examination. We might be lucky and find some ID we can retrieve.”
I nodded, absorbing the information. “Do you know how long ago the luggage was put down there?”
Xavier shook his head. “Not yet. The condition of the bones and the luggage contents will give us some clues, but who knows whether the two are connected.”
“No one could say for sure at this point,” Tally added. “It’s possible, but we’ll need more evidence to make that determination.”
I hated the weight of the uncertainty in my chest. “All right, can you update me as soon as you know more? This case is … well, it’s something.”
They both nodded, and I could see the determination in their eyes. This wasn’t only another case for them; it was a puzzle they were eager to solve. Those who work with dead bodies together stay together.
I was close to snorting out loud at my internal joke.
As Wyatt and I left the office, my mind spun with possibilities. The jumble of bones, the mysterious luggage, and the secrets they might hold were all too much to ignore. But one thing was clear: it would be ages before we knew anything.
Everything was quiet for a week.Almost too quiet. There were no updates from the lab, the town was calm, and Connor was staying away from me for some reason. Ididn’t know whether to feel happy that he wasn’t in my space or pissed that we’d fucked and then he’d cut me off.
Most of the time, I settled on pissed. He’d spent so long hassling me, and then he’d got what he wanted and walked away, leaving that stupid note rating me seven out of ten. Asshole. When I woke up this morning, ready to go in for five a.m., I was determined that today I’d confront him and ask him what the fuck he’d thought he was doing. I was showered, dressed, had stopped off for coffee, and was sitting at my desk, focused on my day, when my phone rang, and my focus shattered. It was Mom, her voice trembling.
“Neil, the car is missing, and your dad has gone.”
I was hit with a sudden wave of anxiety. “What? When?”
“I don’t know, but he’s gone.”
Okay.Think. “Did he take his phone?”
“No, it’s here. He said he wanted to visit Clive, but then he went to bed, and I locked all the doors. I can’t do this on my own.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. No phone meant no tracking him through maps, which meant I had to think like a sheriff and not rely on technology. “Mom, I’ll find Dad. Don’t worry.”
I hung up and grabbed my jacket, immediately heading out the door, my heart pounding. The early morning mist hung low, giving an eerie feel to the empty streets as I scanned for any sign of Dad or the car. He couldn’t go east—that road was still closed, and west was to the Lennox Ranch, so that left south out of town, and with the pedal to the floor, I headed that way.
I saw him a few miles out, standing by the side of the road, lost and confused. The car had been abandoned at an angle, idling nearby, its door wide open. Dad was in his pajamas, his gray hair disheveled, and his gaze darting as if searching for something he couldn’t quite remember.
I pulled over and got out. “Dad?”
