Drift

by L T Ryan

  “Are you going to answer it?”

  Hatch snapped out of her trance-like state. “Yeah. Sorry. Give me a sec.” She walked away from Savage toward the back door. “Hello?”

  “Rachel? My God—I just heard. Sorry—if I had known, I would—”

  What was he talking about? Her mind shifted gears. And then it hit her—the accident. “The crash?”

  “Yeah. What else would I be worried about? Should I be worried about something else? For a girl who just came back to town after being gone for so long, you sure as hell know how to make an entrance. Bull in a China shop comes to mind.”

  She found herself smiling at the man’s mile-a-minute speech and genuine concern. It’d been a while since somebody was truly worried about her. And if she were to be completely honest with herself, it felt good. “Slow down. I’m fine. How’d you hear about it?”

  “I called your cell a few times and you never answered. You know you don’t have voicemail set up?” Cole didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyways—I couldn’t get a hold of you and got nervous.”

  “Nervous about what?”

  “That you’d left town again.”

  Hatch let the words filter past her barrier. He was worried she’d left. “I didn’t go anywhere. At least not yet.”

  “I called your mom. She said you were in an accident.”

  “I was. And I’m fine.”

  “She also said you’re working with the sheriff’s office now.”

  “I am.”

  “Does this mean I need to call you Deputy?”

  Hatch let a giggle slip out. She caught Savage out of the corner of her eye. She turned away, shielding her face from view. “Okay, funny guy, I’m in the middle of something right now. Anything else?”

  “I’d like to see you again.”

  Hatch began to raise her emotional shield. Don’t attach to anything, anyplace or anyone. And yet here she was, making a conscious effort to fight back the longing for normalcy. “Look, Cole—I just think it’s better we don’t. I told you I’m not planning on sticking around. Us going on a date isn’t going to change that and will most likely complicate things.”

  “Whoa! Who said anything about a date?”

  Hatch immediately felt the heat rush over her cheeks and was glad she’d turned away from Savage prior to her color change. “I guess I—”

  “Just kidding. I was going to make it a date, but since you’re opposed to it, we could just go as friends. There’s this great little restaurant, opened a few years ago.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on with this case.”

  “Everybody needs to eat. Hell, I’ll even let you pay if it makes you feel better.” He laughed, the same laugh she remembered from their teenage years. It was an infectious cackle that went from a deep baritone to a high-pitched squeak.

  The laugh sealed the deal. “Fine. I’ll meet you there. What’s the name of it?”

  “Lumpy’s”

  “You’re taking me to a place called Lumpy’s?”

  “The food’s better than the name implies.”

  Hatch felt the color in her face had faded enough. “See you at eight.” She didn’t wait for a response, clicking her phone closed. She slipped it in her pocket and walked back over to Savage.

  “Everything good?”

  She felt odd answering. “Old friend.”

  “I think we’ve got an idea where this thing is headed. We’ve got to go through those files and do some comparisons with the paperwork we found in the town manager’s office.”

  “It’d be great to see the bank records too.”

  “That’s not going to happen without a court order. After we get enough evidence, we may be able to gain access to that. But let’s focus on making a solid connection first. We can use my office.”

  She followed him in. Savage set the stack of files on a small circular conference table set off in the corner. Hatch kept her personal file separate, placing it aside.

  They set about organizing the files so comparisons could be made more easily. Her mind drifted and she looked at her watch. Three more hours until she’d be seated across from Cole. Whether or not she wanted to admit it, things just got a lot more complicated.

  22

  Hatch’s mother placed a dish in the sink. The children scampered up the stairs to get ready for bed. The porcelain disappeared, sinking into the foamy water as Hatch entered the kitchen. The mix of soap and leftovers permeated the air and reminded her of the makeshift dining halls during deployment.

  Her mother turned to face her, drying her hands on a dishrag adorned with butterflies. “You didn’t eat tonight. My meatloaf recipe used to be your favorite.”

  “I remember. Maybe I’ll have some of the leftovers when I get back.”

  “Leaving again and so soon? You just barely got here, missed dinner, and now you’re off before the dishes are wiped clean. Not sure what you’re doing or what it is you’ve gotten yourself into, but if you want to talk, I’d be willing to listen.”

  “I’ve got something I need to do.”

  “Dressed like that, I’m assuming it’s not work related.”

  Hatch looked down, giving her appearance a once over. She had on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved cashmere sweater. The outfit accented the slight curves of her body. To a normal person, whatever that was, Hatch’s attire wouldn’t have drawn attention. But to her mother, who was accustomed to seeing her in a t-shirt or sweatshirt, it must’ve been a shock to see her in something different. That or the fact that the sweater she was wearing belonged to her sister, whose sense of fashion had far exceeded hers.

  “Cole asked me to meet him for dinner.”

  “Cole Jensen? Now that’s a name I haven’t heard mentioned around this house in ages.” Her mother folded the rag and hung it over the edge of the sink, giving Hatch her full, undivided attention. “The fire still burns.”

  Hatch couldn’t decode her mother’s tone in the last comment. It fell somewhere between playful and sarcastic. “Never a fire. Only a flicker. And trust me when I say this—that burned out long ago.”

  Hatch grabbed her coat off of a nearby hook in the hallway. The air outside was colder now that the sun had gone down, but the outer garment also served another purpose beyond being an additional layer of warmth. The coat hung just below her belt line by a couple of inches, further concealing the pistol tucked neatly against the small of her back. It did no good if people knew you were armed. She’d never seen the purpose for openly carrying a firearm, even though the practice was legal in Colorado and several other states. Hatch felt it weakened the element of surprise, a cornerstone in her ability to survive many encounters in her past.

  She had just opened the door to leave when she heard the patter of footsteps on the stairwell closing in behind her. Hatch knew without looking who they belonged to.

  “Auntie Rachel, you’re not going to stay tonight?”

  Hatch had hoped to slip out before the kids noticed. She turned and saw the sullen eyes of her niece staring unblinkingly at her. “I’m sorry, Daphne. I’ve got something important I need to do right now.”

  The girl’s shoulders slumped, and she huffed softly. “You look pretty. Are you going on a date?”

  “No, silly. I just have to meet up with an old friend who invited me to dinner.”

  Daphne reached out and rubbed a piece of the soft sweater protruding out from under the jacket. “Is that mommy’s sweater?”

  “Yes, it is.” Hatch paused, evaluating the little girl’s face. “If it bothers you that I’m wearing it, I’ll run upstairs and change out of it right now.”

  She shook her head. The child’s curls swayed freely. “It looks good on you.”

  Hatch was grateful for the approval. “Tell you what. When I get home, I’ll sneak into your bed and we can snuggle. Just like we did the other night. How does that sound?”

  Her head perked up and her posture straightened. “Sounds great to me!”


  “Then we have a deal.”

  “Seal it with a kiss.” Daphne looked up expectantly. “Something mommy used to say.”

  Hatch bent, kissing the soft check of the sweet girl. She inhaled the scent of innocence. Daphne, in turn, kissed her upon the tip of her nose, sealing the deal.

  Without further protest, Daphne returned upstairs. Hatch left. She got into the older model Bronco that Savage had loaned her until her truck was repaired, if it could be. He’d told her it was one of several vehicles in the motor pool and had come by way of asset forfeiture during a meth raid in the previous sheriff’s administration. Since learning of Jeffries’ propensity for criminal activity, she wondered about the legitimacy of the seizure and its legality. But she needed a vehicle and, for the time being, this would do.

  The door wailed its high-pitched metallic creak, as if the truck had somehow overheard the exchange with Daphne and was now begging for her to stay. In the stillness of the night, the sound echoed out into the surrounding darkness.

  Hatch snaked down the dirt driveway and out onto the main road. Heading to see Cole, her head was filled with uncertainty and she worried her buried emotional connection to their past was leading her astray.

  Cole was right. The restaurant’s moniker didn’t do it justice. Lumpy’s wasn’t the hole-in-the-wall diner she’d expected. The establishment had a wraparound porch for outdoor dining. Gas lamp heaters were spaced evenly among the tables to provide relief from the cold, but few patrons seemed willing to face the rapidly dropping temperatures and the seats outside the restaurant remained empty. The exterior design made it look like an oversized log cabin with hand-sanded timber shellacked into a high gloss. Through the large window panes, she could see the shimmer of candles. The dancing light gave the place an air of sophistication with a quaintness few restaurants in the area could match. Hatch could understand its popularity, especially among the town’s younger adults.

  Cole’s fancy Jeep was parked in the lot a few spaces away, and she assumed he was inside the restaurant.

  She stood in the entrance and was greeted by the warmth of a fire from the stone set fireplace on the far side of the restaurant opposite the bar. The smell of pine filled the air. A hostess standing behind a nearby podium smiled at Hatch. “How many in your party?”

  “I believe the other half is already here.” Hatch craned her neck and then saw the back of Cole’s head. His back was to the door, facing the fire. Her first thought, strangely, was of his lack of situational awareness. Hatch never sat with her back to a door or window if possible. Survival 101, you can only react to a threat if you see it coming. “He’s over there.”

  Hatch walked into the dining area and pulled out a chair across from Cole. The hostess followed and placed a menu in front of her as Hatch sat down.

  “You’re punctual. Something I never expected from you. Not the guy I remember.”

  “Rachel, who I was back then and who I am now are worlds apart.” He spread his hands until his arms were extended all the way out.

  “You and me both.”

  She noticed he’d taken the liberty of ordering some red wine. A full glass was waiting for her. Cole had already drained half of his and she wondered how much earlier he’d arrived. She looked at her watch and it was just turning eight.

  “That’s one nasty gash you’ve got on your forehead.”

  Hatch playfully batted her eyes and fanned her face in an over dramatic flair. “Oh, Cole Jensen, you say the sweetest things. I bet you tell all the girls that.”

  His eyes rolled. “I can’t believe you’re so relaxed about this. You seriously could’ve been killed.”

  She dropped the act. “Killing me is harder than people realize.”

  “I can see that. And I, for one, am glad.” He picked up his glass by the stem and gave it a gentle swirl before sipping. “I still don’t understand what happened. Did the other car blow the light?”

  “No. I did.”

  “Why? Were you running late or just not see it?”

  She gave him a measured look. He leaned in and his concern was genuine, but the why of it bothered her. The man did work for the same company as the man who severed her brake line. And that alone gave Hatch a deep level of skepticism. “I pressed on the brakes and they failed. Looks like some kind of mechanical issue. I probably should’ve taken the old Ford to the shop and had it inspected before I started driving it. I don’t think my mom uses it much and it was obviously in desperate need of a tune up.”

  “Well, that truck was old as dirt. I think we had a couple of good nights in it if I recall.”

  “You don’t say? My memory’s a bit foggy since the crash. Maybe the impact erased all the bad ones.”

  He winced. “Ouch.”

  Hatch sipped from the wine, inhaling the oaky notes while the tannins bit at the back of her mouth. “Let’s stick to the present. Shall we?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I’m not sure you’re working with the most upstanding group of citizens.”

  “Billy’s an ass.” Cole leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s got an overinflated ego. You already proved you’re more than capable of putting the big man in his place.”

  “He’s not who I’m talking about.”

  “Who are you referring to?”

  “Fabio.”

  “Who’s Fabio?”

  “The big blonde with the long ponytail. You know, the one who looks like he could be the spitting image for the model who adorns all of those trashy romance novels.”

  “Silas Calhoun? How do you even know him?”

  “He was outside the main office when I went to speak with your boss.” She was still on the fence with regard to Cole’s loyalties and where he fell in the company’s pecking order. But sometimes in an interrogation you had to give a little to get something back in return. “I can’t put my finger on it. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he eyeballed me when I left. He strikes me as a guy who looks for trouble.”

  Cole gave a shrug. “I guess I really don’t know much about him. He’s always been cordial in the few times we’ve spoken. We’re not drinking buddies or anything like that. He mostly keeps to himself. I do know that he used to work with the main branch in Europe and came here when Chisolm first arrived.”

  “Did he have any issue with my sister?”

  “Silas and Olivia? Nah, no way. She’s probably had less contact with him than I have. The guy isn’t even around the site that much. He handles our demolitions logistics. If you want, I can do some digging. Pull his personnel file for you? Maybe there’s something in it that will help you find what you’re looking for.”

  Cole’s eagerness was etched across his face.

  Hatch gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in anything and getting yourself hurt.”

  “I can handle myself. Maybe not as good as you, but I can hold my own. I kicked Bobby Lancaster’s ass back in the day.”

  “Not that story again? It wasn’t even a fight. You pushed him and he tripped over a tree root.”

  “Well, I still won.”

  Hatch laughed. She’d heard him tell that story for years. The fight, or pushing incident, actually occurred at the end of their eighth-grade year. He’d stuck up for her when Bobby Lancaster made a snide comment about her father’s death. Cole stepped in, putting an end to any further comments from the larger boy. She fell in love with him that day, but the two never took their relationship beyond the friend zone until the summer before junior year.

  Cole finished the glass and flagged the waitress, tapping the rim of his glass. She came over with the bottle in hand. “They make an amazing smoked trout here.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The waitress filled Cole’s empty glass and topped off Hatch’s before going to place their order.

  “I should’ve asked if you’re a wine drinker.” He gave a bashful smile.

&
nbsp; “I’m not picky.” She raised her glass. He did likewise. Reaching across the table, he gently tapped his rim to hers. “Remember, this isn’t a date.”

  “Understood. Friends only.”

  Friends? Strange to hear the words come out of his mouth. Something she’d never thought possible when she left Hawk’s Landing behind fifteen years ago.

  “You can’t stand alone in a town like this,” he said. “You’re going to need someone beside you if you plan to take on Chisolm.”

  “Who said I’m taking on Chisolm?”

  A ripple went along his rigid jawline. “Small town. People talk.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  He hid behind his glass of wine.

  She was about to press him further but decided to drop it for now, making a mental note to return to it again.

  “How’s things been going at your house with your mom and the kids?”

  “It’s not my house.”

  “It used to be.”

  Hatch took a sip of wine. This time she was the one hiding behind the glass. Setting it down, she looked over at the man whom she’d once thought would be her future husband. He looked the same. Better if that was possible. But this Cole Jensen was not the same man she’d known. He was different. An intangible change. Like her, the years had added their burden. She suddenly felt silly for agreeing to meet him. For thinking there could be a lingering hope at finding any semblance of the feelings she once had. Normalcy? It didn’t exist for Rachel Hatch.

  “Listen, Cole, this isn’t going to work.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Anything between us.”

  “I know. You’ve made that abundantly clear on multiple occasions since you’ve been back.” He spread his arms again. “And I told you, I just want to be your friend. Bury the hatchet between us and see where things go.”