“I need a shower.”
“I could use one.”
“Let me check on Ellie first. If she’s still asleep, we’ll grab a quick one.”
“Alright. I’ll be right here.”
Ava chuckled. “Okay.” She picked up his T-shirt, pulled it on, started toward the door, then looked back at him. “We can make this work, right?”
“Yes, we can.”
She nodded, then left the room. A few minutes later, she returned.
“She’s still asleep, let’s take a quick shower.” She smiled as Deacon got up from the bed, then entered the bathroom behind her.
“Alright, then I have to go. I’ll be back in a day or two.”
Ava smiled. She was sure they could make this work.
Chapter Eleven
Two days later, Deke’s legs felt like lead as he climbed out of his truck, the last rays of the sun glinting off his badge clipped to his belt. He’d gotten a late start today, not leaving Clifton until after one in the afternoon. It was going to be a long, damn day. He entered the sheriff’s department in Maple Ridge. Inside, the fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a harsh glare on chipped linoleum floors. The receptionist, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, tapped at her computer with practiced indifference. Deke offered her a tired smile; she acknowledged it with a curt nod and motioned toward the door marked ‘Sheriff’s Office’.
He followed the narrow hallway to the sheriff’s door. Deke lifted a knuckle and rapped sharply against the jamb. Inside, Sheriff Jones looked up from a cluttered desk strewn with paperwork and a half-eaten sandwich. The sheriff rose, the leather of his holster creaking. He cracked a grin and strode forward, calloused hand outstretched.
“Damn, Agent. You should just move to Maple Ridge,” Jones said, his voice rough but warm.
“It would be a lot easier,” Deke agreed, returning the grin. The weight of his exhaustion was fighting to show, but he kept his shoulders squared.
Sheriff Jones cocked an eyebrow. “Who do you want to see?”
“Both Winchester boys, please,” Deke replied.
“In their cells or interrogation room?” the sheriff asked, folding his arms.
“I think the cells would be best,” Deke said, leaning back against the doorframe.
“Alright. You know where they are. If you need anything, let me know.”
“Yes, sir.” Deke nodded and headed back into the corridor, the dull clack of his boots echoing off the walls.
He reached the heavy steel door of the jail block, its small, barred window flashing the dull glow of a single overhead lamp. Deke opened it and stepped into the room, where the two Winchesters lay on their cots with threadbare gray blankets.
“You guys have it rough,” Deke said, his tone half-joking but edged with sympathy.
On one cot, Teddy Winchester lay curled under the blanket, his blond hair mussed and his face pale. At the sound of Deke’s voice, he lifted his head and groaned, propping himself up on one elbow.
Teddy rubbed his eyes and sneered. “I was hoping we’d never see you again.”
“I found the ear tags for the cattle you stole,” Deke replied, stepping closer so the weak light fell across the boy’s face.
Teddy’s lip curled. “I don’t know anything about ear tags.”
“Is that right?” Deke asked, his voice soft but laced with disbelief.
“Yes, now leave me alone.” Teddy shrugged, as if the question were ridiculous.
“I have a job to do, and I will do it,” Deke shot back, folding his arms.
