"Yeah."
"Then maybe find that other kid. Keith. Ask him some questions. You're acting like you're a shitty detective, when you're really not. What the fuck's wrong with you lately?"
Holt sighed. "I dunno, something doesn't feel right to me." Holt looked out the window as one of Keith's boys pulled up on a motorcycle, a similarly dressed blonde haired woman riding behind him. "Something just doesn't feel right about this whole investigation."
Henrik cracked into another strip of bacon. "Ya know what they say about things like this Holt? Ya know what they say?"
"That sometimes the easiest answer is the right one?"
"Well, I think that's possible if you're an over-thinker. But they say that if you do your due diligence, and you still don't like the answer, then it's not the answer's fault. Maybe you've realized that the answer you were looking for doesn't exist."
Holt looked at Henrik, unsure how to respond. He wasn't trying to exonerate Clark by not doing his job. Or was he? "Alright," he said. "I'm gonna go see if we can turn up any dirt on Clark."
"Good man," said Henirk. He waved his hand at a waitress, pointing to his coffee mug and miming a doughnut.
But Holt knew different. He knew that Clark couldn't have done it, and he hoped the evidence wouldn't stack up against him. He threw some dollars onto the table, hoping that no one thought he was trying to bribe a judge, swallowed the last of the coffee, nodded to Henrik and left the diner. One thing was for sure though, he thought, Henrik was still an asshole after all these years.
~~~
Lilith trudged up the gravel road, her boots scraping against the ground, dust flying in all directions. Clark hadn't left her too far from the main house, but the ranch had its hills. She moved as fast as she could. He had elected to just go back to work, after bemoaning several times how horrible it was going to be, to work without having had a shower. She promised to make it up to him.
But she was worried about what she was going to find, her dread increasing with each step. She had read Zeke as an honorable guy, but ultimately she had left the situation awkwardly, and this could be his retribution. She saw his truck in the driveway and silently cursed his name. He was still on the premises. Maybe she could escort him off of them, punching him in his flaccid dick along the way.
She finally reached the back entrance, stomping her feet against the outside mat, and then bounding up the stairs to her father's office. She knocked, heard her father's grunt, and entered.
Zeke lounged in the chair in front of the desk, turning around as she came in. There wasn't any other chair for her to sit in, so she leaned against the door.
"Been tryin' to reach you, you lose your phone or something?" asked Saul, looking at her over his reading glasses.
"Went for a walk around the ranch, decided to turn my phone off so I could really take in the sunrise," she said, slightly out of breath. "Turned it back on and saw your messages."
"You went out without coffee?" Saul asked, pointedly.
She could tell he knew she hadn't come home last night. She glanced over at Zeke, who knew half of where she'd been. The situation was getting awkward. "Well, anyway, what's up, what's going on here?" she said, trying to push it forward.
"Well, since you and I didn't really talk business, and I got the feeling you weren't into parlaying with me, I thought I'd go right to the main decision maker," said Zeke, smiling.
She knew what his words meant, but she decided to ignore them. "I thought my denial was professional, as I'm sure my father's will be too."
"Don't speak for me," said Saul. "I heard out his proposal, and it's odd, but it has merit."
"Proposal?" asked Lilith, surprised that her father had even let the man in his office. "We're not selling the ranch."
"Selling? Who said anything about selling?" asked Zeke. "I'm talking about some business partnerships."
"Partnership?" She looked at Zeke incredulously. He had taken her rejection last night as a reason to come on stronger, to stay in her life longer.
"It holds merit," Saul said. "You should take a look at what he has closely." He pushed forward a binder.
She held her tongue, almost blurting out that she had seen what Zeke had, and she was less than impressed. Instead, she grabbed the folder and opened it. Among the partnership ideas, mushrooms, housing developments, and a hunting lodge stuck out, but nothing seemed even remotely interesting. "I think we're doing just fine here, thanks," said Lilith, throwing the binder back on the table.
"That's it?" asked Zeke. "You didn't even read it."
"The ranch wholly stays in the Holliday family," she replied, glaring at him. "And I find it offensive that you would even approach us again after our previous encounter."
"Please, let's not talk about our previous encounter," whispered Zeke.
"What's going on here?" asked Saul, looking between them. "With those tones, sounds almost like a goddamn lover's spat."
Lilith turned her glare on her father. "I think Zeke is leaving now."
Zeke got up, shook Saul's hand and left the office, patting Lilith on the shoulder. "I hope you're ok," he whispered in her ear. "Everything's gonna be fine."
She didn't know or understand what he meant, but she wanted to punch him anyway. She pushed him away, he left the room, and she closed the door behind him.
"What the hell has gotten into you?" asked Saul, looking her over. "You're acting like your grandmother lately. With some kinda preternatural fire."
"Yeah, well. I don't like people coming here and telling us that we should be partners in shit. This is the Holliday Ranch. Not the Holliday and snootville ranch. So. Yeah," she said. "That's final."
"Is it now?" said Saul, chuckling. "Alright then. You make a decision about Boston?"
She glared at him. "I'm gonna grab some coffee and catch a shower."
"You'll need a bucket," he said as she walked out, closing the door behind her.
She walked through the house, angry at herself, angry at Zeke, and even just a little bit angry at Clark. She wanted to hate Zeke for coming to talk to her father, to hate herself for even going out with him, and to hate Clark for not calling her when he got out. The informality and second hand nature of Marty’s text message still stung slightly.
But none of that made sense. The world may not be within her control, and she didn't have all the answers, but she decided there was no reason to hate Clark. She smiled, maybe he was just shy.
~~~
"I told my deputies to meet me here. They're conducting another search of Ricky's place," said Sheriff Holt. He knew the only place he was bound to find or run into Keith was at the roadhouse, so he had come straight there after the meeting with Judge Henrik. While the meeting with Henrik hadn't gone as smoothly as he had hoped, he was hoping that Keith would be more forthcoming.
"You invited your deputies to a bar during work hours? Well ain't that nice of you," said Keith, sipping on a beer. "I sure am glad I could accommodate you. Are you sure you wouldn't like a beer? Bourbon?"
"No thank you, still on duty," said Holt. "I have a witness to Ricky's murder telling us that he saw leather clad folks entering and leaving Ricky's house on the night of his murder."
Keith sucked at his teeth, and then bite his left pinky nail, spitting the remnants on the ground. "Leather clad folks you say?"
"Yeah, so I thought I might come and see you, seeing as you're the head of the only leather gang in town."
"Lots o' folks like to wear leather. Very popular accessory Sheriff. Is this some kind of profiling you got going on here?"
"No profiling, just using the evidence and testimony that I have. Just trying to track down and arrest a murderer."
"I heard, Sheriff, I heard it was that Clark kid on the Holliday Ranch. Would make sense too, seeing as Ricky was a stingy bastard who wasn't gonna fork over his fair share of the stolen money."
"Is that right? What do you know about all this Keith?" Holt was already suspicious of the entire pro
ceedings, seeing as Keith could never be trusted, and he was sure that Keith was pulling some kind of crime at this very moment.
"I dunno nothing, if you catch my drift. But sincerely Sheriff, I'd look into that Clark character, he seems like the only true suspect. Revenge killing ya know?" said Keith. He swung himself behind the bar and grabbed a shot glass and a bottle. "You sure you don't want some?"
"Yeah, but Keith. You know that Clark was the one that turned Ricky in, right?
"Look, Sheriff. All I know is that people who want money for themselves, often betray their partners. And I know that people who betray their partners, often kill their partners, ya get me?"
Holt sighed. The bastard had a point, but a wacky point at that. The only thing to do was wait for his deputies to show up of their second search of Ricky's place. Deep down, Holt wished, hoped, that nothing to implicate Clark would show up. He contemplated asking for a beer, just to ease some of his own anxiety, but as soon as he was about to open his mouth, one of his deputies strode through the door. "Over here," he said, waving his deputy over.
"And who might you be?" asked Keith, slurring his words as the booze got to him.
"Deputy Hanssen, we've met before. Found something for ya Sheriff."
"What is it?"
Hanssen took a checkbook out of his front breast pocket. "A few checks written from Ricky to Clark, the day before, and the day of his murder."
"See Sheriff, what the fuck did I tell you? There's something fishy going on with that guy, I'm telling you, don't trust him. I am telling you." Keith slapped the counter and poured himself another shot. "Don't trust nobody but the good Lord."
Holt looked at Keith, who swallowed another shot, and then at his deputy. This was more evidence, and implicating evidence at that. They would have to bring Clark back in, question him some more, and try their best to get to the bottom of this. With this evidence, they could open up bank accounts, see where money was headed and to whom, and most importantly: he could figure out if Clark was the murderer. And if he was, he sure was disappointed in the kid.
He waved to Hanssen and left the roadhouse. They got into his cruiser, leaving Hanssen's car, and sped off towards Holliday Ranch.
~~~
Lilith sat under her favorite tree in the south pasture, looking at the clouds, and more importantly: at Clark. He worked with the other boys, sitting tall on his horse, his strong arms directing and conducting work, his gaze strong and stern. And yet her thoughts were turning to last night, his arms across her chest, their legs intertwined.
It was a beautiful sight to see the boys on horseback, the mountains in the distance and around them, sheltering them from the sun as it made its way through the sky. All of it reminded her of her recurring dreams of the pink dress, standing with Clark, taking in all that the ranch had to offer. Shelter, confidence, and perhaps even security from her future and her anxiety.
And every moment before and after the act were filled with thoughts of Boston, of wanting more out of her life, like Zeke had been able to achieve. And yet even Zeke was choosing to come back home. Zeke had gone off and made his billions and yet home meant aspiring to always return and start a family here.
She looked up at the leaves of the tree, swaying in the cool breeze. The day had broken large and beautiful. And she was more conflicted than ever.
She had brought Aggie's diary with her, wanting to keep reading and finding out what exactly had happened to make her that way. It was clear that growing up, with her father's flamboyant expenditures, she was not the same woman when she died. She had hardened and become fiercer. She had become a frontier woman, even if she wasn’t not born one. But who was Lilith? What was Lilith? She stared at Clark, his hand sweeping forward with his hat, thinking about the answers to those questions.
In the end, all she could admit was that she was falling in love with a felon ranch hand, who right now played with a field dog in the middle of a group of cows. That's what was certain, because she had yet to tell Boston anything, and time for that was running out.
A dirt cloud rose to her left. She watched Sheriff Holt's cruiser race through the ranch. She had always told him not to do that, but the Sheriff never listened. She watched him drive down into the south pasture and get out. Deputy Hanssen was with him, standing tall and proud. She recognized Hanssen, another high school guy who had stayed around. Sheriff Holt gestured to Clark, who got off his horse. They talked. She saw Clark get agitated and then finally his shoulders slumped and he got into the car.
She jumped up, unsure of what just happened. She found the easiest path down the hill, but ran across the field as Holt's cruiser drove away through the ranch, faster than ever.
"Marty!" she screamed. "What the hell is going on?" She ran up to Clark's horse, taking its reins.
"Whoa there, where did you come from?" asked Marty, smiling awkwardly, balancing on his horse.
It was clear to her that he was hiding something. "What the hell is going on?" she screamed. "Why did Holt take Clark again?"
"They found new evidence. Holt said something about finding some suspicious check payments between Ricky and Clark," said Marty. He was getting flustered and didn't know how best to respond to an angry Lilith.
She climbed onto Clark's horse. "Suspicious check eh?" She reigned the horse, and with two kicks was off racing across the south pasture and towards home.
Blood rang in her ears, her anger, her anxiety, her love rising within her as the horse sped through the fields, the green earth disappearing beneath its hooves, the horizon coming ever closer.
The horse's shoes rang out against the gravel of the driveway and she reigned in and hopped off, bounding up the steps. She ran up the stairs of the house and without waiting for her father's grunt pushed into his office.
Saul sat at his desk, reading more of his binders, chewing on a cigarette. "Lilith?"
"I don't care what you think, but we need to call your lawyer, what's his name, uh, Neederland. We need to get Clark a lawyer," she said, trying to catch her breath. "I don't care Dad, they took him in again. And he's gotta get proper representation this time."
Saul looked at her, still chewing on the cigarette. "I suspect Lilith, I was wrong about Zeke, wasn't I? He ain't the lover, is he?"
Lilith stared at her father, unsure how to respond. "I dunno Dad," she managed. "I dunno. I just know he's your employee and he didn't kill Ricky."
"You don't know that. And I don't know that. Holt doesn't know that either," whispered Saul.
"Did you talk to Holt?" she asked, surprised.
"It's not general policy for Holt or anyone else to talk to my employees while they're working without my knowledge. And since Ricky was my fuckin' manager, I wanted an update on the investigation."
"Oh. Well. Then you know what we should be doing here. Which is helping Clark," she said.
"I dunno about that, Lilith. He may be our employee, but I'm not wading into this one way or another. He might actually have killed Ricky for all we know. And for that, he would deserve to go to jail."
She stared at him, knowing that he was right. She looked out of his office window, at the ranch outside, regretting her outburst, her emotions wrenching her into pretzels. She just felt so strongly about Clark, that she just had to act. And now that her father had calmed her down, now that rationality was returning, she knew that Clark, improbably, impossibly, could be the killer.
As she collapsed into the same chair that Zeke had sat in hours before, she hoped that it wasn't true, and she could at least go on one date with Clark, just one, to spend more time with him before Boston or whatever came next. "I'm sorry Dad," she whispered.
He threw her a pack of cigarettes. "It's fine. But give this to one of the boys, I gotta stop chewing on 'em."
He smiled at her, as she got up and walked out of his office. She sighed and hoped that Clark was doing ok.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day broke over the mountains, sunlight pouring over the peaks
and onto Pistol's father’s ramshackle house. Pistol snuggled closer to Kelsey, her brown hair falling across his face as she turned towards him. The sun shined through the open window onto their completely clothed form. His eyes fluttered open, his hand moving to shield his eyes from the glare. She was so warm, he thought, moving the blanket to better cover them both. His hands stayed away from her breasts, gently grasping her stomach and over her head. He leaned over, looking at her delicately curved features, her long straight nose and the curve of her pink lips.
He really had meant to ask her for more than just this last night, but the hours had gotten away from them. There had been drinking, there had been merriment, and there had been lots of talk over all their own dreams and their realities. They had gotten closer, sharing secrets and wants, but ultimately there was always the transaction-like nature of it all. It was the oldest, most cliche thing, and he knew it, to fall for a prostitute. And yet, there they were, not having had sex, but laying there, talking for hours.
He never doubted anything that she told him, because even the thought ruined it all, making him remember that it was all a fantasy, including them laying there. He didn't feel like he had a right to ask her for sex, thinking there was something pure and almost fanciful about wanting to be her friend. It was an odd thing to admit, to think that he couldn't ask a prostitute for sex.
He cursed at himself, his hands curled in her hair. He had never been good at this thing. He had always wanted to ask out Lilith, but he was never her type. He was just another friend to many girls, but never their boyfriend. It wasn't his destiny, apparently.
He rolled over, staring at the ceiling, as Kelsey finally woke up, her eyelids flipping open, revealing her watery green eyes that he loved so much. He smiled at her. "Good morning."
"Mornin'," she said, yawning. She blinked at him, smiling. "How long have you been awake?"
"Just a few minutes," he whispered. "Just gettin' up and going. Thinking about coffee and stuff." He was thinking about more than that, but he still had no clue what to even say to her about it.
Keeping Our Home (Holliday Book 2) Page 8
