Outside, the air felt less humid, the remnants of rain clinging to the morning. I headed home to collect Mo.
“How about we go see Ian,” I said as soon as I stepped into the house.
Mo greeted the idea with immediate enthusiasm, wagging his tail and heading for the door.
Mo and I took the narrow path that connected the Lodge to my place, the one that wound through trees and cut across theside of the property. It was quieter and actually shorter than driving and gave me a moment to think, though Mo treated it like his own private patrol route, nose to the ground.
Naturally, my thoughts were on what the suspect might confess to my dad, what Stone would do next, and whether this case was about to get a whole lot messier.
As soon as we reached the Lodge, quiet disappeared.
The place was buzzing.
I’d known there was a shoot scheduled. It had been in the works for a while but seeing it in motion was something else entirely. Vehicles lined the drive, equipment cases sat open, and people moved with purpose, calling out instructions and checking screens. It had that unmistakable feel of organized chaos.
Mo slowed, taking it all in, then stuck close to my side.
I spotted Beau weaving his way through the activity and he noticed me just as quickly.
“Hey,” he said, steering me out of the way of someone hauling lighting equipment. “Busy morning.”
“So, I see,” I said. “Looks like everything’s finally underway.”
“More or less,” Beau replied. “The studio didn’t want to delay the publicity shots any longer. They want to get the massive promo plan going for the film.”
Ian’s agent had been contracted by a major movie studio after their star actor had an accident, hospitalizing him for months, which prevented promo shots from being done. Ian was the same height and built as the actor, though I thought Ian was better built, to do still shots for an upcoming Western movie, old-fashioned cowboy style.
“They considered using AI,” he added. “Didn’t turn out the way they hoped.”
I smiled. “Well, it turned out great for Ian.”
“Not that he can mention it to anyone,” Beau said, “or so says the non-disclosure agreement in the contract.”
“I don’t think Ian cares about that since he’s getting to play a cowboy.”
Beau grinned. “I know. I’m jealous.”
As we walked, Mo kept glancing up between Beau and me, then back at the activity, clearly unsure what to make of it all.
Beau cleared his throat. “So… have you talked to Amy yet?”
I was waiting, okay maybe, hoping he wouldn’t bring up Amy. “She bailed on breakfast this morning. A text, so I had no chance to find out why.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Seems to be the theme lately.”
We continued toward the far end of the property where one of the old buildings stood. It had been carefully dressed to look like a weathered barn. From a distance, it passed easily: rough boards, aged doors, just enough detail to sell the illusion.
Beau gestured toward it. “They’re shooting over there.”
I studied the setup, loosely stacked bales of hay, a length of coiled rope draped over a fence rail, a dented-metal pail hanging from it, and they even had a water trough. Everything looked casually placed, but nothing was accidental. It was the kind of careful illusion that worked because it didn’t try too hard.
Then Ian stepped out of the barn.
He wore tight black jeans, well-worn cowboy boots, a black leather vest left open with nothing beneath it, muscles on full display, and a black cowboy hat pulled low enough to shade his eyes and a dark leather twin gun holster with six-shooters in each. He moved with an easy saunter, like the world had slowed just for him.
And then he posed.
Not stiff or forced, but natural, confident, the kind of movement that made every woman nearby forget whatevershe’d been doing. Cameras clicked. Voices hushed. Even the air seemed to hold still.
