“The problem with turning over rocks to look for one person is that you see all sorts of things under those rocks that you wish you hadn’t.” Zoey sips whiskey from a glass in Clay’s living room. “I now know more about Andy Kimmich than I care to. And I’d better have a talk with that girl Skye. Let her know what she’s doing is against the law and she could get herself kicked out of school. Or worse. Much worse. And poor Lukas Keskinen. Kimmich and Wahlquist… No good deed, huh?”
“Isn’t Lukas Keskinen a professor?” says Clay.
“Bioinformatics and computational biology,” Zoey says with a laugh. “At the University of Minnesota campus in Rochester. And Kimmich and Wahlquist are chasing bad guys who Ash made up. This is the funniest thing that’s happened in a long time.” She takes another sip of whiskey and adds, “Why is this so smooth? How come it doesn’t burn?”
“Aged in a sherry cask,” says Clay. “Aged a long time. It was a gift from the coaching staff when I left Galway.”
“Clay Hawkins,” says Zoey. “You broke out the good stuff for little old me? What’s a girl to think?”
They’re sitting on the couch together, their drinks on the glass coffee table. Jason Isbell sings “If We Were Vampires” through the speakers. The lights are low and glow orange gold. After talking to Andy Kimmich, they discussed where they should go to discuss Andy Kimmich even though they could have remained at the station. Clay suggested his place because Braedon’s spending the night at Sue and Carol’s, and part of him—a big part of him—wants to feel what it’s like to invite a woman over to his home, something he hasn’t done since Braedon was delivered to him a dozen years ago.
Clay has not lived a life of celibacy but he has kept that part of his life private. He questions whether or not that sets a good example for Braedon. As if sex is something to be ashamed of. But keeping that part of his life out of Braedon’s view also makes Braedon’s life simpler. He might not have a mother, but he has a father who is one hundred percent devoted to him.
It was easy when they lived in Europe. Clay was gone half the time with whatever team he was playing for. But it’s been harder since moving to Riverwood. Rochester is where Clay has done most of his dating. Braedon has slept over at Judd’s several times, but Clay hasn’t felt comfortable bringing a date home even then.
He’s brought Zoey home because she’s not a date. That’s his reasoning anyway. His lie to himself. But now that he’s here with her, drinking whiskey and listening to music in low light,he can’t kid himself anymore. And worst of all, Clay knows that Zoey knows what’s going on. He’s used to being a step ahead of people, but he’s not a step ahead of her. More likely he’s a step behind.
There’s one thing he’s sure of: Whatever is happening here, the feelings, desires, and doubts are mutual. He doesn’t need his extensive training in psychological profiling to read Zoey. She’s just as interested in what might come of this as he is. Just as interested and just as concerned.
“Do you miss living over there?” says Zoey. “In the old country?”
“Sometimes,” says Clay. “I miss everything being right outside my front door. Restaurants. Shops. Parks. Maybe I’ll move back someday. Or to a bigger city in the States. But right now, I think it’s more important that Braedon has the experience he’s having here.”
Zoey’s dark eyes shine in the warm light. She sits close enough to reach out and touch Clay. There’s a smile in her eyes. A smile and an invitation. And a knowledge. The way she was looking at Clay when they were questioning Kimmich—it’s like she knew he wasn’t just a soccer player in Europe. She knew he worked for US intelligence. Not sheknew. Sheknows. He hasn’t told her. He can’t tell her. But somehow she knows. And not having to hide that from her gives him great comfort. If she flat-out asks him, he’ll have to lie, but for now, he feels there’s an openness between them. An honesty. Besides, if Zoey intuited that Clay never stopped working for his country, then she can intuit that it would be a mistake to ask him about it. To put him in that position.
“I…” starts Zoey. “I don’t want to confuse police business with personal business. And I think we might be engaging in both at the moment.”
Clay sets down his drink. Now he’s intuiting something about Zoey. There has to be more to her story than he knows. Why did she leave northern Minnesota to police an equally small community in southeast Minnesota? Why didn’t she go to a city? Or into federal law enforcement? Or private security? She’s so damn smart. Other opportunities had to be available. These questions make him even more intrigued with Zoey Jensen. Like she’s a puzzle he feels compelled to solve. He says, “You’re right. I think we might be.”
“My suggestion,” says Zoey, “is that we finish discussing police business and then…” She looks at Clay with her big brown eyes. “Continue with personal business.”
“I second that suggestion,” says Clay.
“Good. Because I don’t have the best feeling about your uncle Teddy. Every possibility has turned into a dead end. The boys on bicycles were up to no good, but they haven’t led us any closer to Teddy. Ash was up to no good, which led us to Kimmich admitting his illegitimate daughter is pay-to-play, but all that just leaves us where we started. And back to the boys, finding Teddy’s earring and other things on Miller’s Bluff is just flat-out strange. Why would Teddy be on Miller’s Bluff in the middle of the night? And why would he take his earring out? It makes no sense.”
“Not to mention he brought a sawzall,” says Clay. “Is it possible he’s cultivating something on that bluff he shouldn’t be? Like marijuana? Or poppies?”
“Why?” says Zoey. “Teddy and Deb live on a few acres, right?”
“Five.”
“Just like Ash’s imaginary friends suggested, Teddy could just grow it on private property.”
“What if Deb disapproves and Teddy needed another spot?” says Clay.
“I suppose that’s possible. But it’s Miller’s Bluff, not Humboldt County. And it’s Minnesota, not California. You pretty much need a greenhouse to get a decent growing season.”
“Are there any valuable plants up there?” says Clay. “Rare flowers? Mushrooms?”
“Magical pinecones to start an enchanted Christmas tree farm?” says Zoey.
They laugh for a moment, then their laughter fades. Clay inches closer to Zoey and says, “Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow. I’m kind of distracted right now.”
“Am I your distractant?”
“Distractant?” says Clay.
“Something that irritates you is called an irritant,” says Zoey. “Something that deodors you is called a deodorant. Someone who you consult is called a consultant. Therefore, something that distracts you is called a distractant.” Zoey slides an inch toward Clay.
