Her expression was impassive. “Still on active duty? Teaching in your spare time at the old stomping grounds?”
Their family friend owned this hunk of soggy land and gave permission to Gideon to use it for free. “Yes.”
“Why? Most guys would be feet up in a recliner or on a boat fishing on their leave time.”
None of your business.But the manners drilled into him by his parents kept him from articulating the thought. Instead he turned the tables. “Finish the police academy?”
She shook her head. “No. Quit that for good.”
He hadn’t heard. She’d been working on her academy requirements when Aaron was murdered. He’d assumed she would eventually go on to complete the program and earn her badge. So she wasn’t law enforcement. That explained plenty. “That’s how you get away with saying that stuff on your podcast.”
Her tone hardened. “I don’t ‘get away’ with anything.”
“Podcasting theories, no matter how unproven.”
“I tell the truth and dig into cold cases.”
“Like your brother’s.”
She looked out the window into the pounding rain. “Yes. Like his. I’ve covered four so far,” she added in a defensive tone. “And thanks to the podcast, three have been solved.”
But no one had been arrested for the assassination-style murder of Aaron Bardine during a drug deal gone bad two years prior. Gideon remembered how she’d come at himwhen he’d gone to pay his respects at the house after the funeral. The image of her face, swollen from crying and seething with rage, was burned into his brain.
“Aaron was your best friend. Did you know something was wrong?”
He had, and heard the question she couldn’t voice.Why didn’t you make him tell you?And he caught on to her self-recrimination as well.Why didn’t I do so either?He blinked away the memory. The rain continued to smash against the Jeep’s windshield as he drove.
It was hard to look at her and not see Aaron.
A wet, windblown branch caught in the wipers. He saw her glance in the side-view mirror at the white truck he’d noticed when they turned into the town of Oakleaf. Only five hundred residents lived in this wooded hollow settled in a valley rich with stunning views. Several of the shop owners were busily boarding up their windows. The ones who’d already invested in storm shutters had rolled them into place. None of those measures would help if the dam failed, which they well knew.
Survival meant hoping for the best while planning for the worst. No place for pessimists.
Her fingers gripped the door handle as they rolled toward the main drag. He pulled to the side to allow the white truck to pass. The driver wasted no time speeding by, a bearded guy behind the wheel soaking in Mackenzie’s profile as he went. Not out of the ordinary. Mackenzie was not a cover girl type, but there was something about her that made people, particularly men, pay attention. Gideon had been paying attention forever, or so it felt.
Her gaze stayed forward-facing, but he saw her making note of the plates as the truck vanished down the street.
“What’s going on, Zee?”
“Not much. Just a little vacation here in lovely rural Washington. Figured it was time to get out of Seattle. How about with you?”
“Knock off the coy routine.” He jutted his chin. “Who was that in the truck?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sure it doesn’t have something to do with your online crusade?”
She didn’t look at him, but her jaw tightened. “I use my platform for good. You don’t approve of that?”
“Depends on your motivation.” Still, she gave him no eye contact.
“And what do you think that would be, in my case?”
He shrugged. “I’m sure the advertisers on your podcast are thrilled with your follower count. Close to twenty thousand, right?” He cringed inwardly at his slip.
“Flattered that you looked me up. If you’d helped me, like I asked ...”
He heaved out a breath. “Let’s not fire up this whole argument again.”
