Shane blinked. “Dude. You were a kid. Don’t take that on.”
“I know,” Heath said. But knowing and feeling were different.
“Let it go, brother. Trust me,” Shane said.
“I’m trying.”
“I’ll help,” Shane said. “That’s what happened to her. But I want to know her, you know?”
Heath scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Yeah. I know. How about I finish this case up, and then we meet in person? Have a few bottles of Jack, and I’ll tell you everything I remember.” He just couldn’t dig deep right now. Not here. “I have no clue how she ended up being our mother or how Isobel Madison got her hands on her. More importantly, how our mother got away from Madison and ended up on the run. But I’ll tell you everything I do know when we sit down together.”
Shane nodded. “That’s a deal. Why don’t you come to Montana? You know we’re going to get you guys up here at some point. Might as well take a look around now.”
“We’ll see,” Heath said as the box moved and its occupant began to twitter.
“Call the second you need help. Or want to talk.”
“I promise, and you, too,” Heath said. “Later.”
“Later.” Shane clicked off.
Heath exhaled slowly.
“They’re persuasive, right?” Ryker asked from the shadows by the door. Heath barely kept himself from jumping in surprise. “I have a feeling when we go to visit we might just end up staying in Montana.”
“Yeah,” Heath said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were beating the shit out of the bag.” Ryker’s gaze went to the box. He moved that way and gingerly lifted the blanket draped over the top. “Is that a pigeon?”
Heath snorted. “No. It’s a mourning dove.”
Ryker leaned closer and stopped when the bird fluttered one brown wing. “Seriously?”
Denver walked in, papers in his hands. “Hey—” He stopped. “Is that a bird?”
“Yeah,” Heath said. “Found him outside earlier. He hit the window, and I was just keeping him warm until his head cleared.”
Ryker looked over his shoulder at Denver. “He actually brought in a bird with a broken wing. A real broken wing.”
Denver’s cheek creased. “Yep.”
Ryker shook his head. “I mean, we’ve had wounded dogs, scratched cats, a couple of dinged up squirrels—”
“Don’t forget that pig in Daytona,” Denver said dryly.
Heath sighed. “I found him outside, and he doesn’t have a broken wing. He’s fine.”
“Just in case.” Denver reached into his back pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “All local vets, Fish and Wildlife, and wildlife rehab centers.”
Heath looked at the yellow legal-size paper. His chest burned. “Numbers?” He looked up to meet Denver’s startling blue-gold eyes. “You looked up all the numbers for me?” Taking the paper, he slowly unfolded it.
Denver shrugged. “Always do when we hit a new town.”
Heath cleared his throat over the lump. Denver must’ve been carrying the paper around the whole time. “Thanks.” Who knew? That might come in handy.
“No prob,” Denver said.
Ryker moved in closer, his face losing all amusement. “Anya told us about Carl being dead. What is happening?”
