“I do. This operation could be huge. Several cases like it across the state.”
“It’s going to be hard to stop being statewide.” Rawley rubbed his tired eyes.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Damn. I’ll do what I can on this end.”
“Same here. I’ll be in touch if I hear anything.” Papers shuffled on Saunders’s end.
“I will too. I spoke with an Agent Jackson in Kalispell, and he thinks it’s the same operation there.”
“Damn. Worse than I thought.”
“Yeah, same here. Be careful out there, Agent Saunders.” Rawley glanced at the darkening window.
“Laramie. I have a feeling we’ll be talking a lot.”
“Rawley. Have a good night.” He hung up, the office suddenly feeling emptier than before.
Chapter Five
Skylar shouldered open the oak door, stumbled into the cool dimness of her house, and dropped the crisp paper shopping bags onto the sofa. She turned, pushed the door closed and twisted the brass deadbolt. Facing the mountain of purchases, she planted her hands on her hips and shook her head. She huffed, gathered the rustling bags again, and strode to her sun-drenched bedroom, where she dumped them on her white eyelet comforter.
She’d had a good day, despite the fact her lunch was cut short with Rawley, but as she had walked through town, she spotted a polished wooden sign that caught her eye, The Wright Bookstore. Her heart skipped. She’d almost passed it by. She had set off across the sunbaked pavement, careful to dodge the sparse traffic.
Halfway there, a warm, sweet scent drifted from a pastel-painted bakery across the street. She paused, inhaled deeply, and groaned at the smell of freshly baked goodies. She saw the name Sweet Nothings on a blue awning in white cursive letters. Temptation tugged, but she shook her head. Those could wait. She wanted to spend some time in the bookstore.
Pushing open the glass door of the store, Skylar was greeted by a soft chime and a flood of golden light pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows. The air smelled of aged paper, polished oak and a hint of vanilla sachets tucked between the new releases. A handful of customers lounged in overstuffed chairs, flipping through magazines or books. Skylar smiled when she read the sign on the wall.The only book you’ll be reading here is the one you bought. This is not the library.
To her left, a walnut-stained concierge desk curved along the wall, where three clerks exchanged quiet banter. Straight ahead, towering shelves rose to a mezzanine balcony, their spinesarrayed like colorful battalions. A wrought-iron staircase invited exploration to the open second floor.
A friendly voice chimed from the desk. “Hello, welcome to The Wright Bookstore. Is there anything I can help you find?”
Skylar smiled. “I’m just browsing. Could you tell me where the contemporary romance section is?”
“Sure, take a left at the drama shelf, then it’s the second row on your right.” The young woman smiled as she pointed to the shelves.
“Thanks so much.”
“No problem.”
She trailed her fingers along the polished railing, then turned into the designated aisle. The soft carpeting muted her steps. And there they were, her novels, perfectly lined up with glossy covers facing outward. Skylar’s breath caught. She reached out, slid a book into her hands, and savored the weight of it, her words, her characters, on display for anyone to discover. A flush of pride warmed her cheeks as she replaced the book.
Turning to leave, Skylar spotted a striking redhead at the front counter, laughing with the clerk who’d greeted her. The woman’s hair glowed like embers under the skylight. As the conversation lulled, the redhead looked up, her green eyes locking onto Skylar.
“Excuse me,” she called, stepping forward. “Are you Skylar McCoy?”
Skylar nodded, her heart thudding. “That’s me.”
The woman’s smile widened. “I’m Sydney Wright, owner of this place. I adore your work. Are you in Clifton as a tourist?”
“No,” Skylar said, shaking her head. “I just moved to Clifton, but I’m still discovering all the local spots.”
Sydney grinned. “Well, welcome to Clifton. Once the summer tourists leave, it’s heaven for locals, no lines, no crowds, just peace and good shopping.”
Skylar laughed. “I went overboard at Paige’s. That place is dangerous. I don’t even want to look at my bank account today.”
“I’m the same way,” Sydney agreed. “Paige is one of my closest friends and I use that as an excuse to stop in there.” She paused, then held out a crisp business card. “When you have time, I’d love to host a book signing. What do you say?”
