Mimi sips on her coffee, but Wyatt looks at me full-on. His brow is drawn, and he’s making his flannel pajama top look more studious than it has ever looked before.
“The last time he left for a spell was after he went on that deep sea fishing trip off in Destin,” he says. “I think he was gone, what, about three days total?”
I nod, fist still bunched up on the paisley print of the tablecloth. “Three days and a travel day. Since Damien and Jon were with him, that’s when Micah came to stay at my place.”
Wyatt nods, remembering. “Micah tanned our hides at that kids’ charades game. Boy sure can think on his feet.”
Mimi nods, too, but doesn’t comment. She’d defend Micah to the death, I’m sure, but talking about him hurts her sometimes. Though, if it’s because she couldn’t get custody of him or because he’s tied too closely to the memory of Daddy, I don’t know.
We talk about a lot of things between us, but that’s not one of them.
“We knew where he was then,” I say, getting us back on track. “He told us ahead of time, never just poof and gone.”
“He could really be after Alice’s shooter,” Wyatt proposes. “That’s what the town’s been whispering about at least.”
“Gertrude was on about that at the salon yesterday morning,” Mimi interjects. “It seemed the entire place’s opinion was they were okay if Guidry stopped whoever was brazen enough to attack a woman in broad daylight.”
Mimi eyes my cheek first, then scans my face in a broader sweep.
She doesn’t say anything; I don’t think there’s anything more left for hertosay, considering my first ten minutes through the door was spent being draped in fretting hands and worrying words.
“Well, if Guidry is out there being a vigilante, then he’s either doing a great job of it or a terrible job of it, considering I got my own personal masked man home-delivered looking for him.”
“Kissy,” Mimi hisses out. She thinks I’m being too flippant with my trauma.
Again, I’m done. “If this town worked like the rest of this stupid world, we’d be sitting here, trusting in our sheriff to find Guidry—to askhimthese questions. But the dang guy in charge is probably just freaking out because his puppet master isn’t here to tell him what to do next.”
“There is no proof that Sheriff Roland is in league with whatever it is Guidry gets up to in his time away from town,” Mimi says. “That’s just hearsay and gossip, and not every scrap of either needs to be taken seriously.”
Wyatt and I time out a snort together.
“He’s incompetent at the very least,” Wyatt says. “He didn’t even deem it necessary to come to Kissy’s last night. What else did he have going on that was so important he couldn’t come out? I talked to that Detective Wayland, and you could tell that even she was miffed at him.”
Mimi considers that. Then she shakes it out. “You’re just upset your favorite town legends aren’t here anymore to dole out their own type of justice. I’m pretty sure in your mind that no one in that department will be as good as your Bayou Cowboys of years past.”
Wyatt makes a face, and I know they’re sliding into an older fight between them. Back in his youth, Wyatt was what Mimi called a rebel without one single cause. He’s always been one to champion the dramatic underdog. The Bayou Cowboys, who’d taken to town on their horses to run off a group of no-do-gooders? That, to him, was peak justice.
Guidry could never replace that.
Neither could the current sheriff.
My fist is still clenched but starting to loosen as I listen to the two of them bicker. It’s soothing, in a way. Maybe because I know they love each other deeply or maybe because I know their fight is really just their anxiety venting in a way that feels more productive than us sitting around asking questions.
Either way, I can feel the angry part of me start to slack off as I watch them.
It’s gone nearly flat by the time the doorbell rings.
Wyatt is at the lead, Mimi goes to the window, and both yell Beau’s name just as I bring up the rear.
“Morning,” Beau greets us after the door is opened.
I know I’ve only been apart from him for an hour or two, but the man sure can stun a woman simply by not doing a damn thing. His blue eyes do me the courtesy of not looking at my sorry face and instead stick to my gaze. He’s a caring man, and that’s not lost on me one bit.
“Morning, Beau,” Wyatt exclaims. He shakes Beau’s hand like he’s won a prize. Mimi is no less subtle with her enthusiasm at his arrival.
“Come on in,” she says, taking his other hand to help lead him. “We’ve got plenty of breakfast left, and a place at the table with your name on it.”
Beau laughs but accepts. He only pauses enough to let me go into the kitchen before him.
