“We in agreement?” Crew swept a look around the room. Before they could answer, he said, “Good. Let’s talk about Fern’s customers.”
They settled to work. Willow brought up a photo of each person Fern had worked for. Small pins on the map marked their locations. Crew studied it, looking for any connections, but the pins were all over the map, not centered in one area. And soon they discovered that the clients were only loosely connected by all living in Willowbrook, with no ties beyond that.
As they reached the final person on the list, Theo’s phone buzzed. He looked straight at Crew, and he knew without a doubt that this was information on the ex.
“Put it on speaker.” His voice was as gritty as a cowboy movie star’s.
The officer on the line delivered the news in brief sentences. They arrived at Chris Calder’s place of residence. He answered the door and admitted the officers. He answered their questions freely, and claimed he didn’t know where Fern Foster was living. He confirmed that she left months before, leaving no note. She stopped going to work, changed her phone number and broke contact with everyone, including him. He’d moved on with his life.
With every revelation, Crew’s fists clenched tighter until the veins roping up his forearms bulged. His new tattoo hadn’t even been bandaged, he left in such a hurry. His artist had been blowing up his phone about covering it while it healed, but he’d ignored them all because he had other priorities at the moment.
Now, seeing the fresh ink grounded him.
Getting inked used to be something he loved—a new tattoo for every milestone in his life. The anchor when he joined the Navy. The skull and wings for when he completed NASC—Naval Aviation Schools Command.
After Conner, the tradition stopped. So getting a new piece felt like he was joining the land of the living again, not just moving beyond his past.
“Thank you, Officer.” Theo’s statement brought Crew to attention. “We appreciate your cooperation and will be in touch if we have any more concerns.”
After the call disconnected, Crew thumped the table with his fist. “If it’s not her ex, it has to be someone in town.”
Gray shifted his shoulders as if his shirt had grown too tight during the call. “It’s possible. It happened to Willow.”
He nodded. He’d heard the story from Decker’s own mouth. An employee at the hardware store began stalking Willow, which ended in kidnapping and terrorizing her.
He shoved away from the table and shot to his feet so fast, his chair screeched across the floor. “I won’t let that happen to Fern.”
“We’re doing everything to prevent that, Crew.” Gray pitched his tone lower to defuse him. “We’re going to stay vigilant.”
“It’s important that she keeps working.” He rubbed his knuckle across his upper lip, creating a rasping noise on thestubble. “She needs her independence after what her ex did to her.”
They all nodded in agreement.
“Leave the personal protection to us. You continue with your work here on the ranch. And if you’re up for it, there’s plenty more work at the training facility.” Gray watched him carefully, and Crew was good enough at playing poker that he knew when someone was trying to read a tell.
Only he didn’t have a tell in this game. He was solid in his conviction that he was strong enough—healed enough—to be here.
“I’m in.”
Several of the guys eyed him with respect. Willow sent him a soft smile that made him think she must look at her brothers with the same expression, part sisterly, part motherly.
The meeting broke up after that, and Crew considered going straight to the garden just to see Fern. But he was surprised when his feet carried him to the covered outdoor patio where Gray’s fiancée, Honor, was conducting art therapy.
Crew wasn’t a fan of arts and crafts. Those tiny little beads drove him mad. While painting wasn’t so bad, the horses could paint better than he did. Still, he found he needed the calm he gained from listening to Honor’s voice as she instructed the group and from working with his hands, even if what he produced went straight into the trash.
Honor gave him a smile as he slipped into his usual seat at the end of one table. A glance at the supplies on the table revealed they were doing beadwork again. Honor’s favorite. And though he disliked it, he grew engrossed with selecting beads and placing them in a shallow tray.
He chose shades of green. The color of the top Fern wore that day. The bright spring green of the plant she was namedafter. The color of the pines on the mountains he loved so much. And more just because he knew she’d like them.
He was so deep in the task of creating a bracelet that when the scent of Fern’s perfume hit his nostrils, he thought he’d conjured her. He jerked his head up to see her walking toward him, a cute little crinkle between her brows and a bemused smile on her beautiful face.
As their gazes locked, his heart jogged in his chest and never settled. It kept on beating out of rhythm until she slid into a seat beside him.
“I didn’t know you liked art.”
“I don’t.” He flashed her a grin.
Before they could say more, Honor spotted Fern and hurried over. He listened to them talk about art and gardening. Suddenly, Fern let out a gasp. He twisted toward her, prepared to step between her and danger.
