She never gave it a thought about holidays after moving to Clifton. She figured she’d go home, but with Ryan here, she just didn’t know. She wondered what Ryan was doing for the holidays.
Picking up her phone, she sent her a text.
Are you going home for Thanksgiving?
My parents are coming here. Mom has cooked enough over the years, so I’m doing it. Do you want to join us?
I don’t know yet. I have to see if Rawley has plans.
Yeah, he might invite you to his parents’.
I’d love it but I have to ask him first. He’s on his way here and bringing his dogs.
What about Cosmo?
I’m hoping they’ll get along. It’s a wait and see situation.
I hope it goes well. If you change your mind, you have a place at the table with us.
Alright. I’ll let you know. I’d better go. Rawley should be here soon. Love you.
Love you. Have fun.
Skylar sent a laughing emoji, and disconnected, then she glanced at the clock to see it was six and he hadn’t shown up yet.
“Where are you, Rawley?” she asked, then chewed on her bottom lip.
****
Rawley pulled onto the narrow gravel road, his two border collies in the back, each with their muzzles pressed against a half-opened window, nostrils flaring at the scent of pine and distant cattle.
“You boys be good tonight and leave that ornery cat alone,” Rawley said as he glanced into the rearview mirror, catching glimpses of black and white fur. Neither dog acknowledged him, their ears perked forward toward the darkening landscape. “I’m serious. If you piss off Skylar, it won’t be pretty.”
Chuckling, he continued along the winding road, the twin beams of his truck’s headlights cutting through the twilight haze. The dashboard clock showed it was six. Glancing into the mirror again, he spotted headlights rushing up behind him, the gleaming chrome grill of a jacked-up truck looming large in his rearview.
Rawley tightened his fingers around the leather of the steering wheel as they closed the gap, high beams flashing aggressively before swerving around him then pulled in front ofhim and slowed down. His knuckles whitened as he recognized the mud-splattered Ford F-150. He couldn’t pull them over since they hadn’t technically broken any laws, but for several tense minutes, he kept pace with them, until their brake lights flared red as they veered onto the rutted berm.
He knew it wasn’t safe, foolish even, but his instincts demanded answers. Rawley pulled within ten feet behind them, reached under the seat and removed his Glock from its case, all the while keeping an eye on the truck. After securing the case back under the seat, he opened the door, tucked the cold metal of the gun into the back waistband of his faded Wranglers and pulled his T-shirt down over it. The dogs started whining.
“I’ll be right back. Stay.” He shoved the door closed and strode toward the idling truck but halted when he saw five silhouettes emerging. He leaned against the front of his truck, folded his arms across his chest, and fixed them with the hard stare.
“Well, if it isn’t Agent Bowman,” drawled the leader. “We seem to be running into each other.”
“What are you doing out this way?” Rawley’s voice was steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.
“We’re just exploring the area,” the man replied. “We like it here. Is that against the law?”
“No, but I don’t see how you could be…exploringwhen it’s dark.”
“We just can.” The man shrugged.
“If you say so.”
“What’s the problem, Agent?” The man’s smile didn’t reach his cold, calculating eyes.
Rawley stepped forward, boot heels crunching on gravel. “You. You’re my problem. I know what you’re doing, and I will catch you.”
The men laughed, the sound echoing across the empty rangeland.
