‘Tennessee Whiskey, huh?’She peeled back a strip of tape, then lined up a manifest with more force than necessary.
Finn’s voice came low behind her.‘Didn’t think you’d know it.’
‘I won’t admit it in public.’She shrugged, keeping her focus on the wall they were filling up like a jigsaw puzzle that had no shape.‘This song is a regular in military bars.Like an unofficial anthem for deployment nights, as that last slow song before goodbye.You hear it enough, it sticks… That if someone starts slow dancing, you know their plane leaves at dawn.’
She hadn’t meant to say that much, but it spilled out anyway.‘Never saw much point in getting attached to people or places when we were always leaving.’She knew the drill.Her hellos always came with a ready-packed goodbye, where the in-between time was just waiting for the next rotation.
She could feel Finn watching her.He didn’t offer to change the music.And she didn’t ask.But that song did its job of making her remember her purpose.
She was doing this for answers—for her family.
So they kept moving through the paperwork.Her dodging the crate stack, him ducking under the red string she’d strung across one wall, as the music became more upbeat as different records were played.They bumped shoulders, passed pens, clipped pages, and kept at it.All their conversations were about the job, with a clear goal now in sight.
The paperwork spread like wallpaper made into something between a scrappy paper quilt and a conspiracy web masquerading as decor.
They were halfway into colour-coding connections when a knock on the front door broke through the rhythm.
‘Finn?’
Finn straightened as the front door opened.
‘Finn, you around, luv?’
That didn’t sound like a cop calling.Was this Finn’s food fairy?
Twenty-one
Lydia.
Finn slipped out of the room fast, with Taryn giving him a look.They both knew no one was supposed to see that wall.That was the whole point of doing it here, away from the station and prying eyes, and the possibility of something making it back to Red.
Also, this place was the safe house, should things go wrong for Lydia and Brodie.And with Lydia showing up unannounced meant something was wrong.
He scanned over Lydia’s posture, checking for any wounds.Catching the tension in her jaw, and the way she clutched her bag to her chest like a lifeline.
There was no sign of Brodie.
‘Everything alright?’
Lydia didn’t answer right away, just peered over his shoulder towards the hallway.‘Are you alone?’
‘No.Taryn Hayes.The federal investigator.’He shifted his stance, blocking Lydia’s view of the spare room.‘She’s here helping with a case.’
Lydia’s brow lifted.‘Brodie said he saw her yesterday, in the passenger seat of your troopy.Is this the Fed who came to shut you down?Is she helping now?’
‘Looks that way.’He rubbed the back of his neck, still not making heads or tails of it, but it was working in ways he’d never expected.‘Just no one really knows about it.So, I’d appreciate it if…’
‘I get it.’Lydia casually swatted at the air between them.‘Like no one knows I’m here.’
Behind him, the door creaked open.Of course, Taryn stepped out, calm as you please.‘I’m making coffee.Who wants one?’She held up the kettle, like this was her kitchen.‘I promise it’ll be an improvement on Finn’s—his brews are so strong the spoon wants to run away with the cracked mug.’
Lydia gave a surprised laugh.‘That’d be good, thanks.’She headed for the table, only to pause on the other side of the kitchen bench.‘Lydia Galloway.’She offered a hand to Taryn.‘I’m the clerk at the Elsie Creek Stockyards.’
Taryn shifted two mugs into one hand to shake with the other.‘Taryn Hayes.I rearrange paperwork and occasionally tick off Stock Squad agents, especially their leader.’
Lydia grinned, clearly amused.
‘Not wrong,’ mumbled Finn, but it was seamless—Taryn filling the mugs, Finn dragging out chairs, Lydia settling down.
