Sheppard shot him a flat look. “I assume that you’re aware of the murder trial down in Monroe? The one the Salt Creek pack is so wrapped up in?”
Finn and Silas both tensed and nodded, predatory focus honed on Sheppard’s next words.
“One of the detectives on the case, Logan Sutton, gave me a call this morning.” At Silas and Finn’s raised eyebrows, Sheppard shrugged. “She’s an old friend.”
Right. Cameron Sheppard was a tomb when it came to his personal life.
“She’s not in-the-know about our world, but she does suspect a connection between their guy Bishop and Jeffrey Dugan. She thinks he is somehow involved in his wife’s murder, but she’s run up against some roadblocks in the investigation.”
“What kind of roadblocks?—”
“What does this have to do with the referral?” Silas and Finn asked at the same time.
Finn’s head was spinning. Were they being brought in on the case somehow? Would that mean he would have a chance to see Jaime without having to track him down on his own like a stalker?
Sheppard answered Silas’s question first, tipping his chin in his direction. “The kind of roadblocks that would put us on Salt Creek’s radar if we take this case.”
Silas tensed, and Sheppard gave him an understanding look. “I can’t share any more details unless I know that you both are officially on board. It’s a tense situation, and Sutton wasn’t going to tell me shit unless I took the contract and signed an NDA. You’ll have to sign them too, before we can move forward. But I wanted you to know what you were getting into, before you made that decision.”
So that’s why he’d wanted to consult them first; he didn’t want to force Silas’s involvement with the case in respect of the tension between him and the Salt Creek pack. Really, tension was putting it mildly—they were going to butcher him as a kid before his parents snuck him away in the dead of night.
Finn knew this would be a tough call for his friend. Silas’s parents had sacrificed everything to get him as far off Salt Creek’s radar as they could, and as far as Finn knew, Silas never knew why they wanted him dead to begin with. Finn didn’t want his brother to be put in danger—didn’t want him anywhere near those Salt Creek bastards.
But there was absolutely no way he would pass up the opportunity to be involved in this case. Not if there was a chance to see Jaime. A chance to get him some kind of message to stay safe, even if he couldn’t tell him everything.
“I’m in,” he said to Sheppard, and turned to Silas. “You should stay out of it, though. Sheppard and I can handle this.”
Silas considered for a beat longer. “No, I’m in too. I’ll stay on the periphery as much as possible, but I’m not leaving you two to go into this on your own. If Salt Creek is as far up Monroe PD’s ass as we think they are, you’ll need someone watching your back.”
Finn knew better than to ask if he was sure. Silas would never put his family in danger on a whim, and he was right. They’d need each other. They always had.
He clapped Silas on the shoulder, and turned to Sheppard, who nodded. “Good. Right. Well, sign these NDAs and get ready to head out while I brief you on our new client, Jaime Lamont.”
Chapter 5
Jaime
Jaime wasn’t sure how long he’d been laying in bed. It had been a while, though, because it was dark when his nightmares drove him from sleep, and now the morning sun had risen enough to no longer be streaming in directly through his bedroom window.
He turned to look out toward the lake, the meadow that swept around his backyard separating his lawn from the narrow, rocky beach filled with green lupine stalks, gently swaying in the breeze.
He’d seen fields of them up and down the highway surrounding his home when he moved out here, and fell in love with the blueish-purple blooms. He’d immediately wanted his own lupine meadow, so he ordered packs and packs of seeds and planted them all around his backyard last spring, before…
Before.
They hadn’t bloomed. Which was normal in the first year, sure, but even when fall came and the stalks were still bare, and then crispy and brown, buried under snow drifts in the punishing winter winds, it felt like a cosmic sign.
Beautiful things aren’t for you, anymore.
You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone something else.
The lupine were doing well this year, though. Jaime thought it wouldn’t be too long before they bloomed and saturated his meadow with deep blues and purples. It was a different kind of blue than the one he would use to paint grief; the rich hues of lupine more akin to a peaceful night sky, one that rested and breathed over chilly spring evenings…
Stop.
He turned his head away from the window and the life blooming outside and stared up at his ceiling, thoughts and plans of lupines and emotions and time moving forward drifting away from him.
He didn’t want to think about it—not right now.
