Page 60 of Carry on Wayward Son

“Hard to come back to a place after that long,” I observed.

“Hard to stay away,” she said, which wasn’t quite an answer and was somehow more honest than one would have been. I understood without words that the original pull was Gwen. But what she’d found with Rios since… well, that definitely weighed heavily in the island’s favor.

When the door opened and he stepped inside, she lit up with pleasure, love, and relief that he was safe. Moonpie accepted her abdication with a heavy canine sigh and shifted pleading eyes to me. Because he recognized another softie when he saw one. I scratched his chest as Rios folded Madden in for a hug. His shoulders dropped from the contact, and some of what had obviously been a heavy day slid off as he folded around her.

My throat ached a little watching them. Seeing what they had together. They had each other’s backs in a way that was envious. Frankly, everyone here did. They all seemed paired off and perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but real. Solid.

I didn’t have that. Wasn’t sure I could ever have that, carrying the damage I did.

Jace dropped onto the sofa next to me and casually leaned down to rub Moonpie’s belly. The position meant his arm pressed against mine. Even as my agitation settled, I was annoyed at how everything in me wanted to lean into him. This… thing between us wasn’t permanent. We were enjoying each other while I was here. That was all. I couldn’t allow myself to consider the possibility of anything else.

Because he didn’t know me.

Not all the way.

And it needed to stay that way for my own safety. And his.

Ford shot up from his spot in an armchair cross the room. “Hot damn, you’re here. That means we can eat. That butter chicken has my name on it.”

“Sorry, I’m late.” Rios scrubbed a hand down his face. “Nasty domestic dispute. Had to haul the husband in and make sure the wife and kids got to the ferry so she could go to her sister’s up at Nag’s Head. God willing, she’ll be filing for divorce instead of taking his sorry ass back this time. Shelton said this is the sixth call this year.”

Madden rubbed his shoulder. “We’ll eat and settle in before talking about the case.”

“Save your strength,” Sawyer advised. “You might need to wrestle me for that garlic naan.”

“Can’t be harder than a gator,” Daniel mused.

Willa gaped at him. “You have not wrestled an alligator!”

He laid a hand over his heart in exaggerated seriousness. “I am a Cajun, cher,” he said, as if that answered the question.

The group devolved into what was obviously a welcome and familiar form of banter as everyone wandered into the kitchen and began loading plates. As the takeout containers spread off the counter and onto the table, we carried plates back into the living room to actually eat. Koa decided the lamb rogan josh was reason enough to camp out at my feet. When I shot him a Look, he literally stuck his tongue out before settling in more firmly. He was exceptionally well trained, but he was still a malamute, and when he made a decision, it was hard to sway him.

After the pakoras had disappeared, and we’d divvied up the naan to dip into fragrant sauces, Jace finally turned the conversation to the purpose of tonight. “So our promising lead turned out to be a dead end. Literally. Shane Tatum died six years ago of a drug overdose.”

Daniel’s focus sharpened. “Self-inflicted or something else?”

Rios leaned forward in his chair. “I ran his record earlier. A few minor drug charges as a juvenile, and some bigger ones as an adult. There’s nothing hinky in the file suggesting this was anything other than the end of a long road for him. But after what happened with Willie Sanders last summer, that file may not tell the full story.”

“Who was Willie Sanders?” I asked.

“A local dockworker Rios and I spoke with who had some kind of information about an assault that happened outside Home Port,” Madden explained. “He was high at the time we spoke with him, and he agreed to talk to us when he’d sobered up, but when we arrived at his place, we found him ODed instead. We couldn’t ever prove it, but given the timing, it feels like someone decided to shut him up.”

“Damn,” Sawyer muttered. “Would’ve been useful to know what Shane said in that note.”

“The note might not have been from him,” Madden pointed out. “We only know he’s the one who passed it to Lauren. It could’ve gone through multiple hands from the original sender.”

I appreciated her care not to lean on assumptions. “Unfortunately, this is often what it means to investigate a cold case. A lot of the people who know things have died, and life has happened. I’ve certainly run up against tons of this kind of thing over the years. Nature of the beast. It doesn’t mean there are no more leads to follow.”

“We’ve been avoiding the most obvious one,” Madden said. All our attention swung to her. “We should be talking to the one person who is alive whom we know knows something.”

“Miles,” I said.

“But this whole time he’s been refusing to talk because he still has a family he wants to protect, even if his wife is divorcing him,” Bree argued. “I mean, he went to prison rather than reveal anything about these people in hopes of reducing his sentence.”

“True,” Madden acknowledged, “but if Rios goes to see him under the auspices of questioning him about some other related crime, it might be a way in sideways.”

“What would we even ask him?” Ford pressed. “He’s not going to just up and say, ‘Oh, it was this specific person who held me hostage all those years.’”