by Devney Perry
“All set?” I asked Belle as she came back to the kitchen. She had the takeout bag Helen had made her looped over one wrist.
“Are you sure I can borrow your truck? I don’t know how I’ll get it back here.”
I smiled. “You aren’t borrowing that truck, Belle. It’s yours.”
“No, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can. That was my husband’s truck, and he’d want you to have it. No arguments. Just promise me to drive safe. Find somewhere to stay tonight before you get too tired.” I handed over the wad of cash. “Here. For your trip.”
She stared at it with wide eyes, probably never having seen that much money before.
“When you get settled, you’ll need to send me your new address so I can transfer the title of the truck to your name. Okay?”
She was still staring at the money.
“Belle? I’ll need your address, okay?”
Her eyes snapped to mine and she nodded wildly. “Okay.”
“Good. Now you’d better get on the road if you want to make it to Missoula before it gets too late.”
Tears flooded her eyes as she took the money and tucked it into her coat pocket. “Thank you.”
I stepped up and wiped a tear from her face. A face so young, but so brave. “Keep in touch.”
She fell into my arms, hugging me so tight with her thin arms I could barely breathe.
“Drive safe.”
She nodded against my chest, then let me go, waving as she disappeared through the back door.
Keep her safe, Jamie. Get her to Oregon.
I wasn’t sure if sending a sixteen-year-old on a twelve-hour road trip was smart, but it was better than the alternative. And I had faith that once Belle got to Oregon, her grandmother would see her through.
Until then, she had Jamie.
I ignored the burn in my throat and took a settling breath just as Helen came bursting through the kitchen door. I spun around to see her arms full of dirty dishes and stress written all over her face.
“I’ve got the counter. You take a quick break.” I came unstuck, smiling as she sighed and went back to work.
Not long after the dinner rush subsided, Cole came into the restaurant with a manila folder under his arm. He came behind the counter for a kiss, then set the folder on the counter.
“What’s this?” I flipped open the file. A school picture of Belle was the only thing inside.
“This is the cashier’s daughter.”
I stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the picture. At the bottom, written with a Sharpie, was her full name. Tuesday Belle Hastings.
Tuesday.
Belle had given me her middle name instead of her first. Had she told me Tuesday, I would have remembered her name from the newspaper articles about the murder. I’d memorized those articles—the ones printed alongside Jamie and Kennedy’s obituaries.
“What are the chances?” I muttered. Coincidences. They really were our thing.
“What?” Cole asked.
I shut the folder. “You’re never going to believe what I did this afternoon.”
“You’re shitting me,” Matt said, sitting on the edge of my desk.
“How fucking crazy is that?”
Matt shook his head, letting everything I told him sink in. “Holy fucking shit.”
Holy fucking shit. Those had been my exact words to Poppy last night.
I was sick over what had happened to Tuesday Hastings. Her dad, Aaron Denison, was a meth junkie. His name was on the drug task force’s watch list, but since he wasn’t a major player, we hadn’t brought him in. Instead, we’d been spending our time going after dealers like Aaron’s friend, Tommy Bennett.
Tommy was one sick fucker. His specialty was getting young kids hooked so they’d help him sell drugs to their naïve friends, but unfortunately, we’d been having hell proving it. We hadn’t even been able to bring him in for using—as far as we knew, he never touched the products he was selling. He got off on selling drugs to ruin the lives of others.
I cringed, thinking about the kind of pleasure he’d taken from Tuesday. And here Poppy had inadvertently gifted Jamie’s truck to Tuesday. Kennedy Hastings’s daughter. “We’ve got to get guys like Aaron and Tommy off the streets.”
Matt nodded. “Too bad the daughter wouldn’t tell Poppy if Tommy had assaulted her.”
“I know,” I sighed, “but it’s given me a whole lot of motivation to bust his ass. We might not get him on sexual assault, but distribution to minors will set him up with a nice, long prison sentence.”
And as soon as we put Tommy away, I was going after Aaron.
I hadn’t kept tabs on Tuesday Hastings—or Poppy—these last five years. But when Poppy had asked me to check on her, I’d gotten curious too. Over the last month, I’d researched Tuesday, starting with her school. Things had looked promising at first. She was a straight-A student. She had perfect attendance and her teachers seemed to love her. Everything pointed to a smart, well-adjusted teenager.
Things had looked so good I hadn’t rushed to investigate her home life.
Now, I regretted waiting so long.
Just yesterday, I’d learned that Tuesday had been placed with Aaron after Kennedy had been murdered. Kennedy had never married Aaron and had held sole custody of Tuesday—not even giving her daughter her father’s last name. But after the murders, Aaron had been next in line for custody. At the time, he hadn’t been a known drug abuser.
Either he’d hidden it well back then, or he’d gotten hooked on drugs while his daughter had shared his home.
“The timing of all this is the really crazy part,” I told Matt. “I called social services yesterday when I saw Aaron’s name pop up as Tuesday’s guardian. I told them that he was a known meth addict and it would be worth making a visit.”
Matt chuckled. “But Poppy came to the rescue first.”
“That she did.”
Tuesday was Oregon-bound to live with Kennedy’s mother, who would get the custody of her granddaughter she probably should have had all along. And I had come to the station this morning with a fire in my veins to put Tommy Bennett and Aaron Denison in jail so they could never hurt her again.
“Tommy is getting bumped up as target number one for the task force.”
Matt nodded. “Agreed. He’s got to go down.”
“We’ll make a plan when we meet with the rest of the team later.” With a nod toward his desk, I changed subjects to the murder case. “The DMV just got back to me with registration info from that new set of plates we sent in. I put the list of names on your desk.”
“Nice.” Matt stood and went to his desk, opening up the folder I’d set there earlier. “God, I hope we find a lead here.”
“Me too.”
The months I’d spent working on the liquor store murder had worn me down. I hated that all we had to go on were old videos. I hated that, after all this time, we’d made so little progress. But mostly, I hated that I didn’t have anything to give Poppy. I couldn’t tell her we’d found Jamie’s killer, but I also couldn’t tell her that the case was cold.
The stagnancy—the helplessness—was gnawing at me.
But at least it wouldn’t last forever. Matt and I were on our last-ditch effort to track down a lead.
“This list,” Matt tapped the folder, “if it doesn’t have anything, I don’t know what else we’ll do.”
Nothing. If that list didn’t turn up a lead, we were stuck. “I sure as fuck hope we find something, but I’m not holding my breath. If the women you questioned last month didn’t give us a lead, I don’t think we’ll find anything here either.”
“I don’t want to admit defeat, but you’re probably right.”
Matt had spent last month interviewing potential suspects—six women in total. Each had been caught on camera leaving the grocery store complex the day of the murder. Each had dark hair and had worn jeans that day. Each had driven out of the parking lot alone. Six women, and all of them had be
en cleared.
Three of them had had alibis. Thanks to their phones, they’d been ruled out because of texts or phone calls made during the time of the murder. One woman’s teenager had been with her at the grocery store, but since they’d arrived and left in separate vehicles, I hadn’t paired them together on camera. And two other women had been at the register in the grocery store, checking out at the time shots had been fired. Their credit card statements had proved their innocence.
Confirming alibis—a miserably slow process—had been necessary for the investigation, but after the initial interviews, Matt and I had known that none of the six women we’d brought in were viable suspects. None of them had motive. Each of them were, and had been five years ago, plenty well-off financially. They’d had no reason to rob a liquor store for less than a couple hundred dollars.
Which meant going back to the video footage, spending our early mornings combing through it all over again. And this time, we’d pulled every woman on tape, period. We’d identified seventeen additional vehicles driven out of the complex with females inside. Next week, Matt would start bringing them in for questioning, and with any luck, we’d find a lead before Christmas.
Otherwise, the case was dead. Matt and I would have done everything we could.
“Have you told Poppy anything?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to tell her anything until I know for sure.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. We were grasping at straws to begin with. I think she knows the likelihood of us finding anything is small. I just . . . I don’t want to let her down.”
“I don’t envy your position on this one.”
I didn’t either, but if all I had to tell her was bad news, I wanted it to come from me.
And I wasn’t giving up yet.
“Big day today. How are you feeling?” Jimmy asked Poppy.
She leaned into my side as we stood behind the counter at the restaurant. “Good. I’m just hoping I don’t freeze at the game.”
Jimmy took a sip of his coffee, his eyes softening when he looked back at Poppy. “I’m proud of you for seeing this through.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
My arm around her shoulders pinned her close. “So am I.”
Today, Poppy was doing the last thing on Jamie’s birthday list.
I’d been prepared these last couple of weeks, watching her closely as I’d braced for a breakdown. But I should have known better. My Poppy was handling this with pure grace.
And I was simply glad that today was it. We were done. No more lists. No more looking backward. Poppy and I were free to look ahead, to whatever came our way.
“Let me get a few last things done in the kitchen and then we can go.” She patted my stomach and I released my hold.
“Take your time. We don’t need to leave for another hour.”
“Do you guys want refills?” she asked Jimmy and Randall, getting two nods.
“I’ll get it.” I grabbed the coffee pot from behind me. “You head on back.”
“Thanks.” She smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.
I refilled Jimmy’s and Randall’s mugs before topping off my own. Then I made my way down the counter, chatting with customers as I offered refills. The restaurant was busy this morning. Both Molly and Helen were rushing around, clearing tables and delivering food. Poppy had been here since four a.m., making sure there was plenty of food for the weekend.
“It sure is crowded in here,” Randall grumbled as I came back to visit with them.
“Good old Cat/Griz weekend. It’s always a cluster.”
The Montana State University Bobcats were taking on the University of Montana Grizzlies in the annual Cat/Griz football game. The rivalry—one that had become famous over the years—drew a huge crowd to Bozeman when the Cats hosted the game every other year.
Since the game was always the third weekend in November, more often than not it was cold as fuck. These past few years, I’d skipped the chaos of the stadium and just watched the game at my parents’ house during their annual party, but this year, I was braving the cold with Poppy by my side so she could finish Jamie’s list.
Today, she was going crowd surfing.
“Damn, I wish I had a ticket,” Jimmy sighed. “I’d love to go up with her. Do you think she’ll get on TV?”
The glint in his eyes made me laugh. “I’m taping the game at my house just in case.”
Leaving Jimmy and Randall to bicker, I went to the register as a customer came up to pay. After ringing up the tab, I weaved around the tables, offering coffee refills.
I’d been pitching in at the restaurant lately. Whenever I was here, I did my best to help Poppy and Molly. I only tackled the little things, like filling coffee cups or waters. Cashing out tabs. Everything with the actual food I left for the actual employees. But helping with the minor tasks made me feel like a part of The Maysen Jar—something Poppy seemed to love just as much as I did.
When she came out of the kitchen and spotted me making a new pot of coffee, her smile made my heart skip.
Inside and out, Poppy was the most magnificent woman in the world. My life began the moment she’d walked into the dojo and captured my soul.
“Thanks.” She stood on her tiptoes, tray in hand, to kiss my cheek.
“No problem.”
She set down her tray and began unloading jars into the display case. “Would you do something for me?”
“In a heartbeat.” That always made her smile.
“Would you try the banana bread I just made? It’s in the kitchen. I added chocolate chips and I don’t know if I like it or not.”
“Why does he always get to try the new stuff?” Randall complained. “You should let some of us who will actually give you an honest opinion try it.”
Poppy stood and planted a hand on her hip. “He gives me his honest opinions.”
Randall rolled his eyes as Jimmy choked on his coffee.
Bastards. They were trying to get me in trouble.
Poppy’s mouth fell open as she looked to me. “You’ve been lying?”
“No way.” I held up my hands. “I always tell you the truth. I love your food.”
She gave Randall a smug grin. “See?”
“Can I just get the damn banana bread or what?”
“Make that two,” Jimmy ordered.
A young man next to Jimmy cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt.” The kid was probably only twenty and his eyes were trained on me. “Officer Goodman, um . . . I don’t suppose you remember me.”
I set down my coffee and stepped up to the counter, offering my hand. His face I recognized immediately, even though he’d grown up, but it took me a moment to recall his name. What the fuck was his name? Adam? Eric? “Isaac?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “I didn’t mean to intrude, but I saw you and just wanted to say hello before I left. And to say thanks. What you did for me back then? Giving me a once?” He held up one finger like I’d done the night I’d given him his once. “I’ve never forgotten about you.”
I shrugged. “It was no big deal.”
“It was to me.” He held out his hand again. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your conversation. Nice to see you again.”
“Same to you.”
He nodded once more, then turned and left. Poppy’s, Jimmy’s and Randall’s eyes were on me, waiting for an explanation, but I stayed quiet and watched as Isaac left the restaurant.
When the door closed behind him, I picked up my coffee. “So, banana bread with chocolate chips? I’ll go get them.”
Before Jimmy and Randall could ask about Isaac, I ducked into the kitchen with Poppy right on my heels.
“What was that about?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just a kid who needed a break way back when.”
“Is that what a ‘once’ is? A break?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I had someone give me a once, and ever since, I’ve tried to pay it forward.”
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“Oh,” she hummed. “Can you tell me about it?”
I didn’t like talking about how I’d nearly fucked up my life, but Poppy deserved to know. So I pulled out a stool from the table in the kitchen and took a seat, confessing something only a handful of people even knew.
“I always knew I wanted to be a cop. Ever since I was a kid. After high school, I wanted to go straight to the academy, but my parents wanted me to go to college and get my degree. Dad said that if I had my bachelor’s, it would help me move up the ranks on the force, so I agreed and enrolled at MSU. But I didn’t take it seriously. At least, not at first. I skipped too many classes and went to too many parties.”
Poppy took the stool next to mine. “Did you flunk out?”
I chuckled. “No, but I wasn’t pulling As, that’s for sure. But the partying got me in trouble. My freshman year, I went to a house party out of town. I had too much to drink but thought if I stayed on the back roads, I’d be fine. On my way back, I swerved to miss a deer, ran my truck into the ditch and got stuck in the snow.”
My stomach rolled when I thought about that night. I was lucky things hadn’t been worse. That I hadn’t hurt someone. That I hadn’t hurt myself. As it was, I hadn’t even wrecked my truck.
“The officer who found me could have taken me right to jail. She could have given me a DUI, and my future career as a cop would have been over. But she didn’t. She put her finger in my face and said, ‘This is your once.’ Then she drove me home, not to the dorms but to my parents’ house, and kept my truck keys for a month.”
“Were your parents pissed?”
“Worse,” I sighed. “They were disappointed.”
And from that night on, I’d tried to never disappoint them again. I’d gotten serious about school. I’d brought up my grades and kept myself out of trouble through graduation and into the academy. All because I’d been given a chance.
“So, you got a once and now you give them.”
