“I’ll miss you,” Ryan said.
“You know I’ll miss you too. I’ll let you go. I’m going to pack. I probably won’t be able to load the SUV with the snow this deep today, but I can do it before I leave. I’m not in a hurry.”
“You’re going to run into snow, you know.”
“As long as it’s not too deep, I’ll make it. If I have to stop several times at roadside hotels, it won’t matter.”
“I know how I felt when I left Seth, that hollow ache in my chest, so I’m sure you’re hurting. Please let me know when you get to the cabin, even if it’s the middle of the night.”
“I will. Love you.” She attempted to smile.
“I love you too.” Ryan disconnected, leaving Skylar in silence broken only by the soft hum of the heating system.
Skylar knew she would miss her best friend so much. They were so close, sharing secrets and wine-soaked evenings, which is why she moved here in the first place. Getting to her feet, her muscles protesting after sitting tensely, she headed for the bedroom to pack some things. She hoped the day went fast, each tick of the clock in the living room a reminder of her leaving Rawley.
****
Rawley guided his truck into the nearly deserted lot, the fresh layer of snow crunching under its tires. He was grateful someone had already plowed the lot but knew the snow would quickly bury it again. He killed the engine and opened the door. A blast of icy air rushed in, biting at his cheeks, before he stepped onto the hard-packed snow and shut the door behind him. He pulled his hat down, and strode toward the building’s glass doors, fogging up from the warmth within.
Inside, the foyer smelled faintly of disinfectant and hot coffee. Rawley’s boots clicked on the marble floor as he headed for the stainless-steel elevator. He pressed the call button, the small panel illuminating a dull glow. He turned his head just as theouter doors swung open and caught sight of his father striding in, his coat buttoned, and his cowboy hat sitting low.
“Good morning, Your Honor,” Rawley said, touching the brim of his hat with a grin.
“Good morning, Agent Bowman. Nice weather.” His father’s eyes twinkled beneath his hat.
“I bet Mom’s thrilled.”
His father chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “She is. Sometimes I swear there’s something wrong with that woman.”
“Well, she did marry you,” Rawley shot back, lips twitching.
“If she hadn’t,” the judge said, arching an eyebrow, “you wouldn’t be standing here.”
Rawley laughed. “True.”
“Any trouble getting here?” his father asked as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
“Not once I got to the road, though the streets were ice rinks.” Rawley stepped inside, the faint musk of machine oil greeting him.
“Streets? You don’t have streets out where you live.” The judge shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Rawley smothered a grin. “Don’t tell Mom, she’ll interrogate me like a seasoned homicide detective.”
“Is it serious?” the judge asked as they rose past the lobby.
Rawley shrugged, leaning back against the mirrored wall. “All I know is I want to be with her every minute.”
“Sounds like love to me.” The elevator shuddered to a stop on the second floor, and the doors parted.
“Be damn careful out there today, Rawley,” his father warned, stepping out into the hushed corridor lined with courtroom and office doors.
“I will. You too, have a good day, Dad.”
“You too, son.” The doors closed on the judge’s retreating figure, and the elevator continued upward with a gentle hum.
When Rawley reached the third floor, he stepped off, then entered the department. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Only a handful of desks were occupied, most seats stood empty, the occupants stranded by the storm. He peeled off his coat, hat and gloves and hung them on the stand beside his desk.
“Not many made it in today,” he murmured to himself, glancing toward the darkened doorway of Dave’s office.
