Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6) (6 page)

That's when I picked up the sketchbook again. Mattias was my first sketch, a day old, sleeping with his little fist in his mouth. Katie found it one day and framed it. It hangs in the living room of their big barn house.

Nowadays whenever I need to deal with emotions, whatever kind, I find solace in my hobby. I have stacks of sketchpads, most have never been seen by anyone.

These past couple of days I’ve found myself drawing at any chance. I try not to notice that save for a few sketches of her dog, most of them are of Kim. To acknowledge that would be akin to admitting there is something I see in her, and that just doesn't fit into my reality. Aside from the fact I’ve worked hard so far to avoid any kind of entanglement, I have a past any innocent woman would run fast and far from. And I think I can safely assume this one is as innocent as they come. I received a little redemption with the birth of Mattias, but I'm nowhere near appropriate relationship material. And that little mouse would deserve nothing less than a serious commitment.

Jesus. Why the fuck am I thinking about shit like this?

"Talk to me." I answer the phone, the ringing of which provided a welcome distraction.

"Need you to do a quick turnaround in Grand Junction." Gus never really bothers with niceties, which is fine by me. "Don't think it'll take more than a couple of days. Neil and I can cover the real estate case."

I want to tell him to find someone else, but I don't. Instead I ask him for details, almost relieved to be getting out of town for a bit. Justification to shove Kimeo Lowe, with her golden brown eyes and all her intriguing curves, as far to the recesses of my mind as I can.

"You cannot see the future with tears in your eyes."

~ Navajo

K
im

That's it. I officially hate that man.

If Dr. Waters hadn't just assured me that she would stop at nothing to find what's wrong with me, I probably would be bawling right now. As it is, I'm too excited about the prospect of getting answers to get sad over those nasty words that I've heard way too many times already. Still, coming from
him
again stings like a sonofabitch, but instead of sad, it makes me angry. Any lingering positive thoughts around him have been torn to bits. Good riddance. I do my best to forget about him and focus on the steps the doctor is suggesting.

First off, Doc Waters has ordered a complete blood screen, looking for any minor deviations from the norm. She explained that not all bloodwork results are clear when you look at them in isolation, but if you combine all screens that are even just marginal, often times a picture starts forming. She's sending me to Cedar Diagnostics for the testing and to the hospital for an ultrasound. Of course I want to get them done now, but I can't get in until Monday, and the earliest she could get me in for an ultrasound is Wednesday. Hard as it is, I'm trying not to be too optimistic, having travelled this road before, but that little seed of hope is there. It doesn't stop me from crashing on the couch for a nap after I get home, tuckered out from my emotional merry-go-round.

-

T
he rest of the weekend goes by as it usually does, with me doing a bit of cleaning, some reading and taking Boo for a couple of walks on the mesa.

When I return from our second walk of the day, dusk already staining the sky, I'm surprised to find a patrol car sitting in my drive, Sheriff Carmel standing beside it.

"Sheriff? What can I do for you?" I have to pull back on the leash when Boo starts up a soft growl.

"Can we go inside out of the cold?" he suggests.

I nod in response and pull Boo with me to open the door. He's right, it's pretty cold once the sun goes down and with the wind picking up this afternoon, my poncho is not enough to keep the chill out.

Once inside I first give Boo dinner before turning to the sheriff, who is waiting right inside the door.

"You should lock your doors," is the first thing from his mouth.

"I just went for a quick walk. I've never had to lock my doors," I answer in a somewhat defensive tone.

"Noticed that the other day. I'm thinking you should make locking your new habit."

His tone irritates me.

"I have good neighbors and nothing worth stealing anyway, so I don't see why I should start now, Sheriff Carmel." So I'm a tad snippy. I just don't take well to being told what to do.

"Name's Drew," he says as he narrows in on me.

"Very well, Sheriff Drew."

"Drop the Sheriff and we'll call it good," he says, way too close to me for comfort now.

"Reason you need your door locked is because you may have put a ding on the radar of the folks who roughed up the Walkers."

"But why? I didn't even see who was in the car." Seriously? They flew out of the driveway. Wouldn't have had a chance to see me. Would they?

"Maybe, but they might not know that, in which case they might consider you a threat," he points out, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. I hadn't even considered the possibility of them seeing me. Yikes.

My back is against the counter in the kitchen and Drew is standing close. A little too close for my comfort. So I rephrase my question from earlier. "Why are you here?"

"Your boss never got on his flight. I wanted to know if you'd heard anything. Whether he's notified you of any changes to his plans."

That's odd.

"All I know is his original plan of returning today. Haven't had any other contact. But I could've told you that over the phone, no need to come out here on my account."

His eyes darken and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Checking in on you isn't a hardship exactly, Kimeo. I just got off shift and was on my way home anyway. You need someone looking out for you," he says, leaning in close to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. A low growl comes from Boo, who's finished his dinner and is sitting by his bowl, looking at the sheriff who is looking back at him.

"Your dog doesn't like me much,"

"He's just protective. Doesn't like people he doesn't know getting too close to me. And people call me Kim."

"He didn't seem to have an issue with Whitetail the other day,
Kim
" he says pointedly with an eyebrow raised.

Right. Boo had reacted differently to Mal. I'd been surprised when the dog submitted to his command right away. Perhaps it was instinctual, I don't know.

"Mal is a good investigator, but a word of warning, he's a dark horse. He has a criminal history and is someone that a sweet girl like you should probably not get wrapped up with."

"I'm afraid you're out of line, Sheriff," I tell him icily, not liking the message and not liking the fact that he's labelled me so easily. "First of all, I'm a forty-year-old woman, not a girl and least of all a sweet one. Secondly, I think it in poor taste you would make assumptions about me or Mr. Whitetail. It's simply preposterous." He has no idea who or what I am. As I turn away he puts a hand on my shoulder. Boo doesn't like that at all, as evident from the hackles standing up on his neck. Drew drops his hand and steps back.

"I apologize if I overstepped. I simply would hate to see a lovely woman tangled up with someone so completely wrong for her."

"Seriously? That is your apology? You're doing the same thing, making assumptions about me and about him that have no ground. I've answered the questions you said you came for, and now I'd really like for you to leave." I walk toward the door and hold it open for him. As he passes he bends down.

"Just keeping an eye out for you, Kim. I'd also like to ask you to refrain from any snooping at the office, since I'll be trying to obtain a search warrant tomorrow. I'll talk to you later."

I stand in the doorway, with Boo beside me, watching as the patrol car backs out of my drive and Drew waving as he drives off. Not quite sure what to think of that exchange, except that it really rubbed me the wrong way. It also got my mind churning on the small snippets of information he gave me about Malachi and I can't help but wonder how much of that is truth.

_

"That's bizarre. So you haven't been able to get hold of him at all?"

It's Wednesday night and Kerry came by the office after she closed for the day, asking me to go out for dinner with her. Her husband is out of town on a job in Silverton and has been gone since this weekend. Instead of dinner out, I'd convinced her to come home with me so I could let Boo out and promised to order something in.

I just finished telling her about my ultrasound today. The technician had mentioned the results would be with Doc Waters sometime tomorrow since she'd requested they be faxed to her. The moment I got back to the office I called the clinic to set up an appointment for Monday.

I happened to mention not being able to get hold of Martin, when I realized I hadn't informed her yet on anything that happened since I left the office early on Friday.

"Nothing. He apparently left the hotel a day early and wasn't on his scheduled flight back. It's not like him to not answer his phone or messages either. I haven't told you everything though," I tell her as we're cleaning away the remnants from Hunan's chicken lo mein and vegetable egg rolls. Kerry stops wiping the counter and turns to me.

"What do you mean, you haven't told me everything?"

I launch into a short description of lunch at Arlene's Diner, my visit to the Walker's farm as well as the sheriff and investigator showing up at my house. "Initially I thought the guy I'd seen pulling into the Walker driveway might have been part of the attack on the family, but when I saw him standing in my own driveway together with the sheriff, I realized I'd been at least partially wrong. He's involved, but as part of an investigation into my boss," I finish.

"Seriously? Martin? I mean I know you told me a few weeks ago that he hadn't been himself and seemed to keep you out of his recent business dealings, but I never suspected anything nefarious."

I pour us a glass of wine and handing Kerry hers, I lead her into the living room where I plop into my favorite chair. "Well, no one seems to know exactly what is going on, but the letter he gave me to drop off at the Walkers’ indicated he was under some pressure by whomever is financing the purchase of those farms. Something big is going on. Big enough for Martin to disappear."

"Have you looked in his office yet?" Kerry wants to know.

"Can't get in. He locked the door when he left and must've taken the key with him. That alone is weird because he never used to lock it and even if he did, I'd at least have the spare key. I found out the key I have doesn't fit the lock on there now."

"If I were you I'd leave it alone. In fact, if I were you I'd be looking for another job because this just doesn't sound right to me." Her eyes on me are concerned.

"I know. It's just that the sheriff made sure to let me know that doing any snooping of my own could jeopardize their investigation, but the judge apparently doesn't want to sign a search warrant at this time. Not enough evidence or something. Carmel says Mal is out of town and to leave things in their hands. I'm sure I could find a way into his office though. I might find something helpful."

"Who's Mal?" she asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, didn't I mention him? It's the name of the investigator. I think his full name is Malachi Whitetail." I try to sound nonchalant but I can feel my cheeks flush. It doesn't go unnoticed by Kerry, who leans forward, elbows on her knees and her chin resting in her hands. Her eyebrows do a slow lift.

"Sounds intriguing. What does he look like?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's tall. Long black hair he keeps tied back. I'm thinking he's Native American." I try not to let on that I seem to have his features seared in my brain.

I dare a peek at Kerry, and find her narrowing her eyes at me, a knowing smile gracing her face. "You sound different when you talk about him. You like him?"

I knew that was coming. Kerry always seems to be on the look out for a love-interest for me. I've told her many times before I'm not one for any kind of romantic entanglement, but she always brushes me off. She's also fiercely protective of me, so I know exactly how to nip this little fantasy she's creating in her head in the bud. "He's called me fat twice. Made it clear I could never be his type. So no, I don't like him. He's an asshole."

Just as expected, I can almost see Kerry's bristles go up. "He said that about you? To your face?"

"Well no, but I overheard him twice, saying exactly that."

"Forget that. Already I know he's a douche. Can't appreciate the beauty you offer? He's an idiot."

She's so riled up it makes me burst out laughing.

"Relax. I don't even know him and likely won't have to see him again."

After steering the conversation in safer waters, namely books, the rest of the evening is spent discussing our most recent, favorite reads.

-

I
t's been a week since I talked to Martin last Friday morning, and I've been fielding phone calls all week trying to cover for his absence. One man with a strong Texan accent by the name of Jacob Hartnett, has called almost every day with increasing urgency. I've had to tell him I don't know Martin's whereabouts and he was not happy. I haven't heard a thing from Sheriff Carmel or Mal, although I suspect they're keeping an eye on the office. Nothing has happened and I'm obviously not in the loop so I'm getting fed up with being in the dark.