Someone wasn't just leaking information anymore.
Someone was willing to kill.
FIFTEEN
Monday afternoon sunlightslanted through Riversong's windows. Ben sat at his usual table near the back, listening to old jazz—Sonny had won a coin toss earlier with April, so jazz it was for the afternoon. His coffee had gone cold twenty minutes ago.
Shane dropped into the chair across from him with his own mug—an Americano that smelled strong enough to wake the dead. “You gonna drink that, or just stare at it until it evaporates?”
“Lost track of time.” Which was an absolute lie. Ben was counting the seconds until it was time to drive down to Denver and pick Charlie up at DIA. Ben pushed the mug away as he looked up at the giant wall clock, which seemed to have stopped. He could have sworn ten minutes had passed since he looked at it last, but it was only three.
“Want a fresh one?”
“Nah. I'm good.”
Shane gave him a look that said he clearly wasn't good, but didn't push. Yet. “DCSO called this morning. Forensics confirmed the girth strap was cut. Clean slice, hidden on the underside against the horse's belly. Someone knew what they were doing.”
Ben's jaw tightened. “Duke?”
“Alibi's solid. He arrived shortly before the card game, there’s footage of him online signing autographs and talking to fans all the way to the jousting ring, and he was visible on the field the entire time as Rowan's squire, including at the girth before Rowan mounted. There wasn’t time for him to go anywhere near the stable.” Shane took a sip of his coffee.
“What about any Caidansworn?”
“Tack room had a dozen people with access—jousters, handlers, Faire staff. No one saw Duke or anyone suspicious there.” Shane looked Ben in the eye. “Any chance one of the couldn’t have been bribed?”
Shit. Ben tried not to be angry at the question. “I’ve known most of the stable hands for years. They wouldn’t do this.”
“Figured you’d say that. Unfortunately, there are no security cameras in the stables, either…so.” Shane leaned back in his chair. “DCSO's treating it as attempted murder, but without solid evidence pointing to a specific person, they're stuck. Official word’s that it was an accident. And Viv's production company is pushing to keep filming on schedule. LA office is handling Viv and Rowan's security now. We're off the hook unless they come back to Colorado.”
“They will.” Ben glanced at the clock again—four minutes had passed—then looked out the window at the red cliffs over the St. Vrain, watching the sunlight illuminate the sandstone. “Viv wants that avalanche scene. She'll be back in November or December when there's snow.”
“Then we've got time to figure this out.” Shane's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at Ben. “Elissa's still digging into The Chronicler but not having much luck. You can imagine the fans are blowing up over this. It’s chaos. Now he’s even harder to find.”
The front door chimed. Ben looked up to see Gabe walk in, hand-in-hand with Rochelle. They were both smiling. Gabe looked happier than he had in years. Ben smiled. He remembered when Gabe had been too nervous to talk to Rochelle, and when she'd run from the coffee shop after buying him that first coffee because her stutter got in the way. Now they were happily married.
Gabe's expression—pure contentment—made Ben's chest ache.
That's what he wanted with Charlie. Just being without her for two days was driving him crazy. The wall clock mocked him again. This afternoon was taking forever.
Gabe spotted Ben and Shane, raised a hand in greeting, and steered Rochelle toward the counter where April was already pulling shots for their usual orders.
“Sure I can’t talk you into something new?” April asked Gabe. Her voice projected through the coffee shop. “Something with ice in it?”
“Why start now?” Gabe asked.
“Maybe because it’s hotter than the devil’s sweaty ass?—”
“April. Language.” April’s father, Sonny turned from the espresso machine and gave his daughter a look that could blister paint off a wall.
“What?” April gestured around the coffee shop. “Nobody’s here. Your farty old jazz chased everyone away.”
Ben snorted as Shane raised his hand. “Uh, we’re here, darling. Sweetheart. Love of my life. Hi.”
April rolled her eyes. “You don’t count because your drinks are free.”
“She gets cranky when it’s hot,” Shane stage-whispered.
“I heard that.” She dropped two spoonfuls of sugar into the bottom of a ceramic mug followed by coffee and one shot of espresso for Gabe, then made an iced mocha for Rochelle.
