Burn It Up

“I see what you mean,” Christine said. “You sleep okay?”


“Not too shabby.” It was a lie, and Abilene knew it. She’d heard him downstairs, picking out chords on Don’s old acoustic guitar well into the wee hours.

“You need any help?” he asked Christine.

“I could use loads, actually, with six of you about to descend. Would you fry up some bacon while I get the pancake batter mixed?”

“Sure.”

“What’s the meeting about, anyway? The Abilene situation?”

She heard the fridge door open and close. “Yeah. Mostly just hammering out a schedule, I think.” There was a pause; then he asked Christine, “What?” as though she’d shot him some kind of meaningful look.

“I really wish she’d contact the Sheriff’s Department.”

Abilene flushed.

“She couldn’t get a restraining order, though—it’s not like he’s outright threatened her,” Casey said. “I doubt there’s some box you can check for ‘He’s just a scary guy.’”

“I’d still feel better if they were aware of the situation. They could be on the lookout for him, alert us if he’s seen around.”

“I know, but she refused. I think she’s worried about pissing him off any worse than he might be already. Plus it’s hard enough for her, having all of us knowing her business, and you know Fortuity—if this shit makes it to the BCSD, the whole town’ll be discussing it by sundown.”

It was a lousy option for other reasons, too, ones she didn’t want Casey knowing about. Forms meant using your legal name, and Abilene using her legal name could make for some uncomfortable questions. She didn’t know what exactly counted as identity fraud, but she cashed checks issued to a fake name, using a fake ID.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” Christine said. “Pride never got anybody anywhere worth going.”

“Well, you try talking to her, then.”

“Believe me—I did. She was trapped in a car with me for four hours yesterday. We made it to Elko and back but the topic went absolutely nowhere. She trusts you and your brother, though. I’d hoped one of you might change her mind.”

Casey laughed. “Girl’s got more problems than we realize if she thinks us Grossiers are the pillars of wisdom and reason.”

With things taking a lighter turn, Abilene chose that moment to intrude. She stepped into the kitchen. “What’s so funny, so early in the morning?”

“Just ripping on the family name,” Casey said, opening a package of bacon. “Baby still asleep?”

“Out cold.”

“Good. Sit down. You want coffee? It’s almost ready.”

“Maybe in a bit. Anything I can help with, for the meeting?”

“Well, if we’ve got three on the job, we may as well cook some eggs,” Christine said. “Scrambled will do. Maybe fifteen?”

“Sure.” Abilene headed to the fridge.

“Sleep okay?” Casey asked her.

“Not terrible, actually. Thanks to being off duty.”

“She was pretty mellow.” He waited until she was right beside him, searching the cabinets for a mixing bowl, then murmured, “I need to talk to you.”

She eyed him, nervous. “Okay.” What about? About James, or about the other night? What Casey felt about what had happened, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure what she felt about it herself, yet. Only that she didn’t regret it. Not a single moment, not a single kiss.

“I’ve turned on the griddle to warm while I get dressed,” Christine said. “Don’t burn yourselves.”

“Thanks.” Casey waited until she’d disappeared to turn to Abilene. “It’s about your ex,” he said, pouring coffee into a mug.

“What about him?”

“About you considering sitting down and talking with him,” Casey went on, stirring sugar into the cup, “provided he approaches the situation like a civilized adult and not a psychopath.”

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