“Then we’ll stick with what I know.” Wade took off his hat, set it on the counter, and lowered his voice. “We’ve been tracking phone records and financials. Derek’s been in and out of King Creek for the past few months. He’s been meeting with someone who has ties to Milton.”
“My father. Great.” I didn’t bother to hold back the eye roll.
Wade nodded grimly. “Looks that way. I don’t have proof they’ve met in person yet, but there’s a pattern. Calls, money transfers, shared contacts. It appears to be linked to an illegal grow farm, but we can’t pursue it until we’ve wrapped up all the loose ends. It’s secondary to figuring out who’s after you. We can get DEA and the Staties after the farm anyway.”
The air left my lungs. “What? An illegal grow farm?” My mind raced. Derek had been into a lot of stuff. Some of it shady, but I wouldn’t have had any idea that he’d have been involved with anything of that magnitude.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t anything that he was into when you were together.” It wasn’t a question that he was asking, but I shook my head anyway.
“No.” My arms crossed uncomfortably.
“Milton is somehow involved in it. We’re just trying to piece everything together. Briggs is helping me out. Since it’s off books, it’s a bit more complicated. All that illegal grow stuff is cash, so it’s hard to track.”
My hands gripped the edge of the counter until my knuckles whitened. “My father and Derek? Working together?” How would that have even come to pass? “Ican’t even imagine how they would know each other or know of each other.” My mind raced.
“Well, it could really just be a coincidence. They were involved in the same business and got to talking. Sometimes we try to overcomplicate things, but if Milton were living rough or off the grid somewhere, it would make sense. There are some pretty big farming operations out in the woods, according to Kipp. OSP and Forestry have a job shutting them all down. It’s really all about location. We’re trying to bring in your father and Derek for questioning, but we haven’t been able to nail them down. Your father skipped parole, so we have a warrant out.”
Could it be that simple? Derek was always eager to make a quick buck. Marijuana was a big business, but I’d assumed the illegal trade had died down once the state made things legal. Apparently not.
“You think my father’s behind this? The fire?”
“I think you know that we can’t rule him out anymore,” Wade said gently. “But I also think whoever’s helping him knows you better than they should. And that part worries me. We had thought it wasn’t Derek, but now that he’s approached you the way he has, and the things he said…”
It was unspoken, but … but Derek had known me. Mia glanced over, eyes narrowing, but I shook my head quickly. She turned away, pretending not to listen.
Wade put his hat back on and glanced toward the door. “Try not to close tonight, okay? I’m sure East will be around even if you don’t want him to be. I’ll also have an officer swing by here and your place a couple of times.”
I nodded, though the words caught in my throat. “Ok. I’ll make sure that I’m careful. Thanks, Wade.”
Outside, February was making itself known, and I was glad I drove today because the rain had turned to sleet. Pretty soon, there would be ice on the roads. The world felt suspended, all cold edges, and for a moment, I felt frozen.
Everything was tangled in my head—my father and Derek. It seemed unbelievable that they could have run into each other, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Derek was always a grasping asshole looking for the easiest way to make money. Small towns fed on gossip, and I could easily picture someone casually mentioning Wildwood Meadows, prompting Milton Merrick to perk up at the mention of his mother’s shop. From there, it was just a quick jump in a conversation. Was it really that crazy?
Behind me, Mia said something about the rolls, but her voice sounded far away.
All I could think about was the way Derek had smiled two days ago — that slow, poisonous curve of his mouth.
40
Easton
I’d been on the phone with Wade, constantly trying to get updates about that a-hole Derek or anything related to the case. When I wasn’t doing that, I was either working obsessively on Lila’s place or sitting in front of Sage’s, where I knew she slept, watching. At least I’d convinced Wade to give me the current mug shots of Milton and Derek.
There was no way I was going to give up. Maybe she thought this whole situation was a bit much for me to handle, but she didn’t know I was built to last. She wasn’t getting rid of me. I’d prove it, however she needed me to.
Wade had let me know that he and Briggs were hot on the trail of the connection between Derek and Milton, but they were struggling to locate them for questioning, which left us with no choice but to watch and wait. It sucked.
By the time I reached Chapter & Crumb, dusk was on its way, along with a healthy dose of slushy snow that slicked the sidewalks and the street. The forecast called for more snow tonight, so we were looking at a couple of inches on the roads. I was hoping to convince Lila to let me drive her home.
The windows glowed against the gray. Inside, I could see Lila moving behind the counter — quick, efficient, like she was running on some invisible clock. Her hair was piled up on her head, but wisps had escaped to curl along her neck. She was beautiful even when she was running on fumes. Her signature apron was tied around her front, and I would guess that there was flour on it from her afternoon baking. Now I knew that they often did cookie dough the day before and left it chilling so it was ready to go. Lila was nothing if not efficient.
I paused outside for half a second, trying to figure out what I could say to make things better. Then I pushed the door open.
The bell jingled above me — bright, cheerful, entirely at odds with the look she gave me when she turned.
“Hey, sugar,” I said quietly. Her lips parted, just a flicker of surprise before she tried for a smile. There was relief there, and for a second, I wondered if she was worried Derek would actually come into the shop. The thought was alarming. Maybe I should be sitting in here for the day, or talk to Kipp about splitting the shifts with me.
“Hey, yourself. You’re late for scone hour.”
