She gazed at him. “Do you really believe that?”
“Only if you do,” he responded musingly. “No pressure. Just something to think about as two single—and lonely, at least in speaking for myself—exes who shouldn’t close the door on the future that could be everything we ever wanted and then some.” Landon waited a beat, then changed course for her sake. “But for now, I understand that finding Eddie—wherever he may be—is your top priority. I want that too,” he assured her, even if he feared that the outcome could adversely affect anychance they had to give a relationship a second try—and whatever that could lead to.
They drove in silence the rest of the way before reaching Rock Hill in York County.
Chapter Nine
Raquelle was admittedly a bit apprehensive in the passenger seat as she thought about the conversation with Landon on their failed marriage and where it all went wrong. Had they thrown away a good thing for all the wrong reasons? Should they have worked much harder to communicate and tried to work their way through the issues that seemed to stymie them—most notably, the timing on when they should start a family?
Was there really any chance that in learning from their mistakes, they could rectify them? And possibly restart their relationship?
Or was Landon living in a fantasy land at the mere suggestion? Did he truly believe there could still be a happily-ever-after for them, in spite of having already gone their separate ways for years now?
Raquelle was lonely too, even if she chose not to focus on it much as it was often too depressing to digest. But Landon had thrown her a lifeline of sorts for a possible future together. Should she grab onto it? Or would this only lead to history repeating itself?
As they approached the Catawba Nation, Raquelle’s thoughts turned to the prospect that Eddie had taken shelter there. Would he really hide out on the reservation fromthose who wanted him dead? Was this where her brother expected her to find him and offer support?
I have to believe Eddie’s still alive, and though he could be anywhere, the rez is as good a place as any where he won’t likely be found by outsiders, Raquelle told herself, glancing at Landon, deep in thought behind the wheel.
They drove down the Avenue of the Nations, passing by the farmers’ market at the Catawba Nation’s food-distribution center and the senior center. Then came the twenty-two-acre Black Snake Farm and walking trails before driving past the Catawba Cultural Center on Tom Steven Road.
“Seems like old times,” Landon commented, breaking the quiet between them.
“It does in some ways,” Raquelle acknowledged, even if it felt oddly strange in other ways as it related to them in current times. She had treasured visiting the reservation during the early part of their marriage, with Landon showing a keen interest in her heritage, which she sincerely appreciated. The Catawba Indians had resided on its ancestral lands for thousands of years alongside the Catawba River—while expanding its tribal citizenship across the country, even getting into the casino and gaming industries in the Carolinas.
Landon had readily welcomed learning about her heritage. This meant the world to Raquelle, the ending of their relationship notwithstanding. Just as she embraced his taking on Native American art crime as an FBI special agent in spite of the negative connotations regarding her brother. Eddie had chosen to sell counterfeit art and involve himself with the wrong people—and right peopleby becoming Landon’s CI—and was now paying the price. The only way for him to own up to his mistakes was to have a chance for a fresh start.
Assuming he’s still alive, Raquelle told herself, sweeping away a wayward hair that fell onto her forehead.
Landon asked, “So, where do we start in looking for your brother?”
“I’d say the home of his friend since childhood, Jay Locklear,” she replied thoughtfully. “If Eddie were to come here at all, Jay would probably know about it—and where to find him—”
“All right, let’s pay Locklear a visit.”
Raquelle directed him to the address on Marta’s Court where Jay, who worked for the Tribal Historic Preservation Office, lived in a two-story home with a well-manicured lawn and magnolias lining the property. A red Jeep Renegade sat in the driveway in front of a closed garage door.
The front door to the house opened and Jay stepped outside, locking it. In his early thirties, he was tall and of medium build, with a long brunette braid and a landing-strip goatee.
“Hi, Jay.” Raquelle offered him a soft smile as he approached them.
He grinned at her and said, “Well, look who the wind blew in. Hey, Raquelle.”
When he gazed at Landon, she introduced him. “This is FBI Special Agent Landon Briscoe—and my ex-husband,” she added to make him less intimidating as a member of federal law enforcement.
Landon stuck out his hand in a friendly gesture. “Nice meeting you, Jay.”
“You too,” he replied, eyeing him warily. Jay turned back to Raquelle. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure…?”
She got right to the point. “We’re looking for Eddie.”
“Eddie?” Jay cocked a brow. “Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Landon answered bluntly, “More like trouble is out to kill him—if he’s not already dead. Eddie was my confidential informant on a case I’m working on. Someone blew up his boat, apparently expecting Eddie to be on it. He managed to escape somehow and appears to be on the run.” Landon exchanged glances with Raquelle, then looked at Jay. “We thought he might have sought refuge on the reservation…”
Raquelle added, with urgency, “If he’s here, Jay, you need to tell us. Eddie’s life could well depend on it. Not to mention others in the Catawba Indian Nation could also be at risk.”
Jay favored her with a straight look and said flatly, “Sorry to hear about the boat and Eddie missing and in danger—but he’s not here.”
