“Same,” Ace said. “And a beer.”
Ophelia straightened. “What kind of wine do you carry?” She could use a glass after the day she’d had, although she was starting to understand why Ace drank alone in his cabin.
“Red or white but no pink,” Janet said, partially turning. “Gus?” she bellowed. “Two burgers with cheese and fries.”
Ophelia barely kept her mouth from dropping open at the casual approach. “I’ll take red. Thank you.” This would be an adventure.
“No prob, Olly.” Janet turned and loped toward the kitchen, her boots noisy in the vacant restaurant.
Ace chuckled. “You’re here less than one day, and you already have a nickname. Welcome to Knife’s Edge.” He sat back in his chair, studying her.
She returned the exploration. Ace Osprey’s hair ran a shade or two lighter than Brock’s, and his eyes appeared a smidge lighter green, but his jawline appeared to be the same. The men shared the same straight nose, high cheekbones, and broad shoulders, although Brock seemed thicker. They definitely sprang from the same genetic pool. “Your brother failed to mention he’s the sheriff.” Should she feel foolish or angry? Anger seemed to be winning, considering how hot her blood felt.
Ace shrugged. “The town voted him in six months ago after he took off for his walkabout. He keeps refusing. Didn’t want to be on the ballot, but that’s what happens when you don’t attend the annual town meeting in June. You get elected sheriff.”
She unzipped her jacket and slipped out of it, placing the leather material around her seat. The fire crackled and warmed the room nicely. “Let me get this straight. The town elected Brock to serve as the sheriff, but he doesn’t want the job, and nobody cares.”
“Yep.” Ace grinned when Janet plunked a beer bottle down next to a generous pour of red wine. “Thanks.”
Janet nodded and hustled off.
Had Brock told the truth about needing time alone? Made sense. But had he needed that time to deal with more than his discharge from the Navy? Did Hank’s death weigh on him? If so, how and why? Ophelia sipped the wine, which exploded on her tongue and warmed down her throat. “This is delicious,” she murmured, taking a bigger drink. What vintage had they secured here?
“You never know with Gus.” Ace tipped back half the bottle before speaking again. “Returning to Brock. I honestly don’t know if he’s gonna win this one or if the town is. I mean, Brock’soutnumbered by far, but truth be told, he’s the most stubborn son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Begging your pardon, Agent.”
“I’ve already noticed that myself.” Ophelia shared a grin with Ace before returning to business, the good wine instantly mellowing her. “Who do you think shot Hank?”
“Ah. Getting right to it, are you?” Ace twirled the bottle on the table, his gaze catching the refracting light. “I have no idea who shot Hank. It happened around Christmastime, and I’m sure plenty of folks headed out hunting, so it could’ve been anybody who fired accidentally.” He drew the bottle up and finished it.
Ophelia took another healthy drink of the wine. “That’s the same story Brock gave me.”
“Isn’t a story. It’s the truth.” Ace looked up as Janet brought over another beer bottle and whisked the empty one away.
Ophelia shook her head. “Somebody shot Hank, yes. But the autopsy report shows water in his lungs, so he actually drowned. Whoever shot him could’ve possibly saved him after shooting him.” Probably not, according to the report. He’d only lived long enough to fill his lungs, but she didn’t have to tell Ace that.
Ace watched his bottle again. “You read the autopsy report. Interesting. I never saw it. Did Hank sustain any other injuries?”
“Like what?” she asked, the base of her neck tingling again.
“I don’t know. Any type of animal scavengers? We have many around here.”
What an odd question. “No. The autopsy report didn’t include any such facts.” Did relief filter across his face? The expression disappeared as fast as it had appeared.
He sighed. “Listen, Olly. Around here, a year ago might as well be a century. Hank’s long buried, and so is your case. You’re not going to find anything more.”
So her new nickname might stick. She’d figure out how she felt about it later. This wasn’t her first difficult case, and shealways found more evidence. She swallowed, switching topics to keep him talking. “Tell me about your brothers.”
Ace finally looked up, his light green gaze piercing. “Well, Brock is the sheriff and is responsible for you, which seems to have made him crankier than usual. That’s saying something.”
She ground her back teeth together. “You guys need to join this century. No man is responsible for me.”
Ace grinned. “That’s not a chauvinistic position. You could be male or female, young or ancient, human or horse. Brock brought you to town before the snow hit, and that makes you his problem if you turn into one. I really wouldn’t turn into one if I were you. Brock seems easygoing, albeit stubborn, but he’s not a guy you cross. Ever.”
She set her wineglass down. “Is that a threat?”
“Of course not.” Ace leaned back as Janet delivered two large platters holding burgers and an obscene amount of large-cut french fries. “That’s just a fact.”
Ophelia reached for a fry and paused when it burned her hand. “Where are Christian and Damian?”
