Brock slid off behind her and stepped forward to undo the chin strap of her helmet. His fingers brushed her jawline as he lifted it off, and she shivered. “You sure you’re up for this right now? We both need sleep.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. We really need to talk to Jarod. I’m curious about the timing of the Tundra Haven fire.” Her voice was steady, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her reluctance. “Then Ace. Please call him again.”
If Ace didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. “I will,” Brock said, knowing it was useless. Ace would get back to him when he wanted.
Ophelia shifted her weight and let out a slow breath. “I think I should speak with Jarod alone.”
Brock straightened to his full height, and pulled off his own helmet, holding it at his side. “Excuse me?”
Ophelia turned to face him fully, snowflakes clinging to the strands of hair that had escaped from beneath her hat. One flake landed on her nose and melted instantly.
“I think,” she repeated, “he’ll be flirty and more forthcoming if you’re not there. If you are, he’ll try to act tough and macho.” She hesitated, then added, “And Brock...you haven’t officially decided to be the sheriff.”
He flinched slightly, but she didn’t back down. Her eyes locked with his, her chin lifting in quiet defiance. “You’re acting like it. People are treating you like it. But until you make that commitment, you’re not.”
The challenge hung in the air between them. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong—but she wasn’t. He growled low in his throat. “All right,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “You can talk to Jarod. But if he gives you any trouble?—”
She cut him off with a wink which was cute, even with the exhaustion evident in her pretty eyes. “I know. Plant him on his ass.”
A grin tugged at his lips despite the weight pressing down on him.
“Trust me,” she added, stepping toward the tavern doors. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I do.” Brock sucked in freezing air, forcing himself to awaken completely.
She turned suddenly to face him, still outside, her face reddening from the air. “Ace is hiding from us, Brock. I like you. A lot. But you have to realize that there’s more than a decent chance that I’m going to have to arrest your brother. Even if I can’t prove it yet, I think I have enough to arrest him on suspicion of murder.”
No, she didn’t. She had enough to try and that would normally scare somebody. Not Ace. “Ace didn’t hurt Tamara.” He knew to his soul that Ace would never harm a woman.
“What about Hank?” she whispered. “You know as well as I that he left Doc’s earlier to avoid us. There was no reason for her not to tell him that we were bringing in a body, so I’m sure she did. And he did not stick around.”
“We don’t know that,” Brock said, his gut churning.
Where the hell was Ace?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Ophelia couldn’t feel her legs. She needed a massage—a long, luxurious session where someone worked out every knot until she could remember what warmth felt like. “Let’s do this so we can get some sleep.” When was the last time she’d been up for more than twenty-four hours? She couldn’t remember, and the world felt fuzzy.
“Agreed.” Brock pushed open the door just as David and Monica walked out, bundled in their winter gear.
“Hi,” Monica said, her voice softening as she caught sight of them. “Amka made her orange scones today, so we stopped by for breakfast. Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry.” She lowered her voice, sympathy etched across her face. “I heard about Tamara. Do you know who did it?”
Ophelia shook her head. “How in the world did you hear already?”
“Ace was here for scones,” David said. “He mentioned that Christian called him. It’s so sad.”
Ophelia cut Brock a look. Sheknewthat Ace was avoiding them. Dread skittered down her back. This was going to be a disaster. Her mind fuzzed from lack of sleep and she studied the couple.
“You two look exhausted,” Monica said gently, wearing black jeans, fur-lined boots, and a red sweater that made her look both festive and warm.
David nodded, dressed in his usual jeans and a flannel shirt, though the bright red color stood out against the muted gray and white of the winter scenery. “Get some sleep. For now, I need to plow closer to EVE today. They’re having electrical problems again, but I don’t think the road’s passable.”
“No, it’s not,” Brock said. “Don’t hurt yourself or put yourself out. They built their facility way out there on purpose, and they’ve got their own plane.”
David shrugged. “All right. I’ll take it as far as Raven’s Pass but no farther.”
“Good plan,” Brock said. “We don’t need to gather another search party together already.”
