“Are you happy with how things are turning out?”
“I thought I wanted a big life. Money, power, prestige, influence. Turns out I’m happy with a very, very small life that’s saturated with meaning.” Chloe set her empty cup down. “Let’s take a look through the rest of the house. Every room is so unique, and you never know when an idea will strike your fancy.”
5
LUCAS BROUGHT THE Blazer to a halt in front of Tanya’s cabin. Her rusted-out Ford pickup sat at the end of the ruts serving as a driveway, but that didn’t mean she was home. Last he heard, the truck needed a new transmission. Smoke was rising from the chimney, so odds were better she was home. Or she might be out tramping along the creek winding through the prairie waves toward Brookhaven, deceptively small on the horizon, all straight lines and sharp angles against the spring blue sky. The moment Tanya stopped loving the outdoors was the moment Lucas checked her into a treatment center. Again. Because treatment didn’t work the first time, or the second time, or the other times she tried on her own and Lucas wasn’t supposed to know about.
For the moment, however, Tanya got up, got something to eat, then walked. But as nothing changed, the need for the drug would simmer, then seethe in her system, and by night she’d be high again.
Lucas stepped onto the splintered porch, noted the muddy boots with gray wool socks tucked into the shanks next to the door, and red-and-black wool jacket hanging from a hook screwed straight into the cabin’s wall. He knocked, automatically scanning behind him while he waited for Tanya to open the door.
Her dishwater blond hair hung in lank strands around her face. She’d forgotten to shower for a few days, not a good sign, but her pupils were the correct size for the sunshine flooding into the cabin from the big windows overlooking the creek. She was barefoot, but he could see the imprint of her hiking socks in the skin of her feet. “Hey, Tanya,” he said.
“Hey, Chief,” she replied.
The dig stung. “Put your boots on,” he said. “We need to talk, and it’s too cold for you to stand out here without shoes.”
“You can come in,” she said liltingly.
Fuck this attitude bullshit. “Can I?” He held her gaze until it dropped. “I don’t want to arrest you today, Tanya. Put your boots on and come outside.”
She slammed the door behind her, movements jerky as she yanked the socks from the boots and stuffed her bare feet into them. Thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets, he waited for her on the grass beside the dirt road leading to the cabin.
“What do you want?”
He studied her again in the bright light of day. Not strung out enough to have trashed Gunther Jensen’s place, but he had to ask. Blood was blood, but crime was crime, and he worked for the citizens of Walkers Ford.
“Someone broke into Gunther’s house yesterday. Trashed it pretty thoroughly and took some cash. And his wife’s engagement ring he had planned to give to his granddaughter.”
Shock widened her eyes ever so slightly, a sight that eased his heart just a little. Addicts gone too far to recover didn’t care about anyone else. Compassion lived somewhere deep inside the bitter woman standing in front of him. “Was he home?”
“No. He was visiting Betty in the nursing home. Do you remember where you were yesterday?” Blacking out happened frequently to prescription drug addicts.
“Of course,” she said, just indignantly enough to sound hurt. Then the penny dropped. “You thought I did it. Because I did some work for Gunther, and I’m an addict and a user.”
He didn’t deny it. “His Percocet’s missing.”
“Fuck you, Lucas Ridgeway. Fuck you to hell.”
She spun around, but he grabbed her arm. “I had to ask. And if the roles were reversed, you’d have to ask, too.”
The look she slid him, sharp with pain and bright with tears, made him look away. Because she’d wanted his job. Years ago, when he was eighteen and she was fourteen, all she’d wanted was to become chief of police of Walkers Ford. She’d gone to Denver for college the same year he graduated from the academy. In the fall of her sophomore year, she tried to break up a fight in a bar she shouldn’t have been in, in the first place, and got her elbow broken in two places. She’d pushed her recovery too hard, too fast, requiring a second surgery. Even after months of physical therapy, she didn’t have the mobility she needed to pass the physical entrance exams for the academy. Then she got hooked on the prescription painkillers. He’d gotten busy at work and fallen head over heels for Leanne. He was struggling to find time for a relationship, let alone his cousin. Not even knowing one of Denver PD’s brightest prospects could save her. All her hopes and dreams died that night.
He stared at her, making the connection for the first time that she was around Alana’s age. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight, too thin, frequently dead-eyed and always bitter.