Chapter 11
Griffin
Sweat drips down my back since the aging window units can’t keep up with the August humidity. It’s the middle of the day, and I’m here at Cartwright’s office with Aunt Dorothy to sign the paperwork. He’s the town’s lawyer and handles most anything that comes his way.
She passes me the pen, and I scribble my name on the legal documents. Today, I’m becoming the proud owner of half her land. I plan to start my own farm on it where Missy can spend her days being spoiled by me and Daisy can grow up learning to love the land the same way I do.
When we’re done, I wrap Aunt Dorothy in a hug. This pint-sized woman took me in when I didn’t have anywhere to go. She didn’t have to take on her sister’s kid, but she did. “Thank you for all you did for me.”
“You were a good kid then. You’re still a good kid now,” she tells me as if I’m not six feet tall and all grown up. I don’t think she’ll ever see me as an adult. I’m guessing I’ll always look at Daisy that way, as a little kid in need of my protection.
“Can you come on another errand with me? I have a ring to pick out,” I tell her. I know she’s been anticipating this. She left a couple of jewelry catalogues on the kitchen counter yesterday. Then she somehow managed to get Missy looking at them. The two of them stood there for an hour, thumbing through the pages and talking about the styles of jewelry they like.
She beams at me, and I can tell from her expression that including her in this was the right move. I might be grown, but she still wants to be a part of my life. I plan to make sure she’s not only part of my life but of my family’s life too.
The ring shopping doesn’t take long then I’m hurrying back to the farm to meet the Maple brothers. They’ve all built homes on their family land. A lot of them here do. It’s common to find farms that have passed down through the generations with each new generation continuing on centuries’ old traditions.
I called Greer and Noah over because they built their places fast, and that’s exactly how I want my home built. I smooth out the sketch that Noah has shown me.
“Gonna need another bedroom here.” I tap a spot on the plan. If I have another bedroom there then Missy will have a dedicated room for her studies when she’s taking her college classes. I want to make sure she gets the chance to see all of her dreams come true. As Daisy and our other children grow up, we can use it as a playroom.
Noah pulls a pencil from behind his ear. He mutters something under his breath and goes about erasing some lines. It’s a sketch for now. We’re trying to nail down the layout first. When I’m sure we have something solid, I’ll bring it to Missy for her feedback. Her opinions are what matter most to me.
The three of us spend the next hour sketching and resketching the layout plan. Finally, Noah tucks the pencil behind his ear again and says, “I’ll send you a finalized layout later this week.”
I clap him on the back. “I appreciate it.”
Greer looks over the land and gives me a nod. “You got yourself a nice little plot here. Let me know when you’re ready to start building that barn.”
I promise him that he’ll be my first call. Then I leave for work.
It’s a slow day at the Courage County Police Department. Luke is sipping his coffee and absently tapping his pen against the crossword puzzle. He’s always playing a crossword puzzle.
He says it keeps his mind sharp. I joke that he’s one step away from the Wildflower Retirement Community. He looks up when he sees me come into his office and asks, “Did you get my message?”
I nod. He sent me over the files for the men that are after Missy. They’re both petty criminals that are connected with a drug trafficking organization operating further up north.
“Have you given any more thought to what I suggested?” he asks, eyeing me warily. He’s probably afraid that I’m going to take a swing at him.
“Absolutely not,” I snarl. I don’t think Luke really meant the suggestion when he made it, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if he’s my boss. He can fire me.
I will not let Missy be used as bait to lure these two druggies out. It doesn’t matter if they won’t get close enough to harm a hair on her head. I won’t allow her to be put in danger or even think she’s in danger for a moment.
Luke nods. “I understand, and I’d be just as protective over Austin. But without some bait to dangle over these guys, we’re not going to be able to flush them out.”
“Let’s get the word out that we have their product. When they show up, we bust them. Clean and simple.” If I’m very careful and do it right, then Missy will never have to be involved in the trial.
“That’s good bait,” Luke tells me. “The only problem is you don’t actually have it.”
“It’s better than dangling my woman,” I tell him, frustration bleeding into my tone. Normally, I can talk through these situations with professional objectivity. But this is the love of my life we’re talking about. I don’t care who I have to lie to or what I have to do to keep her safe.
“Yeah, but the moment they realize your hands are empty, they’re going to come after you. And where does that leave Missy and her daughter then?” He challenges. He might be a small town sheriff that rarely deals with anything more than petty theft, but he understands exactly what I’m risking. It doesn’t matter. It’s my life to give, and if I want to give it up for Missy’s freedom, then that’s my choice.
I rake a hand through my hair, yanking at the wavy strands that never stay still. Especially not once Missy gets her hands in it. I love it when we’re together and she’s crying out and pulling on my hair. It makes my scalp tingle, just thinking about it. “We have to figure this out. She can’t live always looking over her shoulder.”
Luke grabs a piece of scratch paper and goes down the list. It’s the same list we’ve been staring at for three days now. All the places that Shelley may have stashed the drugs she stole. She was running with a rough crowd, and I hate that she’s gone. I hate that Missy lost her best friend.
“Let’s take it from the top,” he says, exhaustion bleeding into his tone. Like me, he’s barely slept in the past seventy-two hours. He’s on high alert, anticipating a threat in our small town, and neither of us like it. We prefer things boring and quiet here.
