Rowan leaned back in her chair, sipping a cup of coffee, her other hand resting on Thor’s head. They were on a restaurant’s outdoor patio, waiting for Rees Womack, and she’d been lucky enough to get the last available table. In the ten minutes since she’d sat down, a large crowd had formed at the front of the converted old house. Locals were willing to wait long periods for brunch at the popular restaurant. The owners made the outdoor waits as pleasant as possible by providing a window to order coffee and other drinks, lots of room to sit, and even live music.
Rowan had ordered biscuits and gravy and a pitcher of white sangria. Rees was late, and she wanted to eat if he didn’t show up. He’d texted her the night before, asking her to meet, but had been vague when she asked why, saying he wanted to talk about Ken. Thinking back, she realized she’d never met Rees one-on-one. Someone else had always been present. But he was a pillar of their close-knit group. Rees wasn’t much of a talker, but people always listened when he did speak up. He thought things through and often presented avenues the group hadn’t considered. He was a valuable SAR member.
Thor’s head lifted a fraction, and his ears swiveled toward the crowd waiting at the front of the restaurant. Rowan spotted Rees and his German shepherd, Gunnar, working their way through the group. He was frequently stopped, usually by women asking to pet his dog. Rowan often had the same problem. At least people were better about asking to pet Thor these days. In the past they’d touch without permission. Thor loved attention from everyone, but some dogs did not.
Rees finally made it to the table and sat heavily in a chair. “Sorry I’m late.” The dogs sniffed noses and then ignored each other. Rees was close to Ken’s age, and Rowan had never seen him without a hat. Usually it was a baseball cap, but today it was a pale-blue bucket hat. His long beard was salt and pepper, and his brown eyes had deep lines from squinting in the sun.
They made small talk for a few minutes. When the waitress brought the pitcher of sangria, he ordered coffee and an everything omelet. When she left, he poured two glasses and held up his drink. “To Ken.”
“To Ken,” repeated Rowan, then took a sip, noticing Rees looked very tired and sadness lurked in his gaze.
I probably look the same way.
After some general talk about the funeral, Rowan got to the point. “What did you want to tell me about Ken?” Since he’d sat down, Rees had made poor eye contact and seemed distracted.
He leaned his forearms on the table, drained his glass, and then poured another. The waitress reappeared with his coffee and vanished again. He added three creamers and focused on stirring it in.
“Rees. What is it?”
He always likes to think before he speaks.
“It’s Ken. Something was off before he died.”
Rowan waited a long moment for him to collect his thoughts. “Like what?” she finally asked.
“He was stressed. Couldn’t sit still. Always doing something. Seemed anxious.” He met her gaze, concern and certainty in his eyes.
“The ‘couldn’t sit still’ sounds like him,” said Rowan. “The anxious part doesn’t. Was he having money problems?” She knew from Shannon that Ken wasn’t the best with money, which was why he drove for Uber. The flexibility worked for him. According to Shannon, he was always out of money but rarely let it bother him. When his account got low, he’d drive extra hours or take on a private client to train their dog. People all over the US asked to work with him.
“I don’t think so,” said Rees, finally looking right at her. “I think it had something to do with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Your name constantly came up during the last two weeks before he died. I know he’s always been protective of you, but this seemed unusual.”
A chill went through her bones. “He thought I was in danger?” Her mind flashed to Thor’s growls the day before.
Those mean nothing.
“He never said that. He did say that he couldn’t talk to you about something and seemed very worried that you’d never forgive him.”
Rowan was speechless.
“He brought up that day he’d snapped at you in training. He felt horrible about it and was going to apologize.”
Tears threatened. “I’ve often thought about that day. I never got the chance to talk to him about it.” Guilt racked her. “You think that incident upset him that much?”
Rees shifted in his chair and Gunnar suddenly stood, his full attention on his person. “I don’t think that was the problem. The anxiety started before that. His behavior toward you may have been a by-product of what was bothering him.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this. I know Shannon had said he was distracted in the weeks before his death . . . more forgetful than usual. Maybe something was going on with his health.”
“Could be.”
Judging by his expression, Rowan knew he didn’t think much of her suggestion.
“He kept talking about you.”
“What about me?”
“Everything . . . the training he knew you were working on. That case where the five-year-old was found in the bedroom. The hike you always do for your brother’s birthday.” Rees frowned. “You know he hated that you did that every year, right?”
“He was always very understanding about why I needed to do it. He used to go with me.” Rowan was surprised. She thought Ken had been one of her biggest supporters of her search for her brother. “Hate is a strong word. I think you’re wrong about that.”
“I don’t think so. He said harsh words about it to me. Several times. But always would end his rant with saying he had to support you because you were important to him.”
That stung.
He lied to my face?
He was protecting my feelings.
Rees’s eyes widened as he watched her think, and she softened her expression, suspecting he’d been surprised by the flare of anger. She blew out a breath and drank the last third of her sangria. “I still don’t know why you asked to meet. You could have kept all this to yourself—although I appreciate knowing he felt bad about that day at training.”
He looked away. “I was supposed to go camping with him.”
“The night he was shot?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?” She wondered if this was the main reason he’d wanted to meet—that he felt guilty and needed to get it off his chest.
“Gunnar was sick.” He touched his dog’s head.
Rowan didn’t believe him. She used her dog as an excuse to get out of things she didn’t want to do. And she suspected that Rees had done the same.
There’s something he’s not telling me.
“Why didn’t you want to go?” She infused understanding into her eyes and tone, trying to convince him to be open and honest.
He leaned forward. “Do you know where he was found?”
“Yes.”
“Doesn’t that seem like an odd place for him to camp? He always goes way the fuck out into nowhere, and there has to be a creek or lake nearby. Why would he decide to essentially camp in a spot miles away from water where lazy-ass rookies go to camp? I had no interest in that.”
“Did he tell you that’s where he wanted to go?” Rowan agreed with his assertion. Ken liked to go off the map when he camped.
“Yes. I tried to get him to pick a different location, but he was adamant.”
She thought for a long moment. “Do you think he was meeting someone? I can’t think of why else he would pick that spot.”
“I’ve come to the same conclusion.”
“You need to tell Detective Bolton,” she said.
“Tell him what? That Ken had been stressed and that’s an unusual place for him to camp? How does that help the police? I’d be wasting his time.”
Rowan considered. Rees had a point. “But you wanted me to know. I doubt you could have changed things,” she said quietly. “You might have ended up being shot too.”
“I’ve wrestled back and forth with that.”
The waitress set down two steaming plates of food. Rowan was no longer hungry, but she picked at her gravy. Rees faced his omelet with the same lack of enthusiasm.
One thought kept going through her head. “What could he have done that I never would forgive him for?” she asked softly. “I loved him. He was a good person.”
Rees shook his head. “I’ve asked myself the same question, and I’m stumped.”
“If he kicked Thor, I wouldn’t let that go,” she said with a sad smile, knowing Ken would kick her before he ever did such a thing to her dog.
“He wouldn’t dare.”
“He was the best,” said Rowan.