Thanks for your PMs and your patience. I know it's been weeks since my last update to this story. I've been swamped at work, and after a few attempts to get something written for this chapter, I had to take a total break from all things fanfiction and Longmire. I was so out of the loop, I wasn't even keeping on top of whether they'd renewed the show yet. (They haven't, right?). I woke up yesterday morning, and in a complete procrastination move (I have some work I need to complete by the end of this weekend), I ruled in favor of creative writing instead of business writing, and completed a good chunk of this chapter. Since I had already opened the creative floodgates, I decided to try and finish it today. I'm calling this chapter done and uploading it now (otherwise I'll never get my work assignment completed tonight). Thanks for reading! :)
Walt had developed a nightly routine over the last few years. He'd return to his cabin, dinner typically already consumed at The Red Pony or take-out at the office. At the door he'd take off his hat. Followed by his coat. And then his boots.
Before he arrived in the kitchen he'd make two stops. First at the desk, to turn on the lamp and check for a blinking light on his answering machine. He'd always check. He didn't always listen to the messages right away. That first year, especially in the beginning, days would go by before he could bring himself to hit the play button.
His second stop would be at the record player. He'd pull a record from its sleeve, the selection based on his mood that day.
In the kitchen he'd head straight to the fridge, without turning on the overhead light. He'd be greeted by the cool air and mostly empty shelves, and sometimes he'd have a moment where he'd contemplate going grocery shopping. But that thought would quickly pass as his eyes landed on what he'd come for.
Rainier in hand, he'd head back to the front room. If it was cold, he would start a fire, but otherwise he'd go right for his usual spot on the couch, picking up a book from his end table along the way.
He'd alternate between two positions: Sitting with his feet propped up on the coffee table, or laying down with his feet at the end closest to the kitchen, his beer tucked in between his side and the back cushion.
Between the music, and the crackling fire and the words on the pages before him, he could usually, eventually pull himself out of his head. Out of whatever thoughts had consumed him that day. In the early months it had taken several records. And many chapters. And a return to the fireplace to throw another couple logs on. And multiple trips to the fridge. But he'd get there. And when he reached that point, if he was sober enough, he'd get up, and head to bed. Otherwise he'd fall asleep there on the couch, greeted in the morning by a cold room and a collection of empty beer cans.
For the past few years, his slumber had been void of dreams. Well not in those early months. After he made it through the numbness of those first few weeks, the next months often had him waking up in tangled sheets as the anger and the pain and the sorrow coursed through him. But eventually these dialed down to a constant simmer, the nightmares subsided, and he'd wake up each morning having made it through another dreamless night.
Seldom had the routine been disrupted, because he could count on one hand the number of people who had been in his cabin. And other than the time Cady had stayed at his place when she had first returned from Philadelphia, and the time when she was recovering after the car accident, the overnight visits by guests had been rare and brief.
For the last few months, he hadn't fallen asleep on his couch. Not once. There had even been nights where he hadn't had a single beer. But he hadn't messed with the rest of his nightly habits. They brought him comfort. And familiarity. And peace.
Almost a week ago, on that rain-drenched Friday night, Vic had disrupted his nighttime routine. Since that night, he hadn't been successful at getting out of his head so that he could sleep. He'd tried. He could definitely say that. But despite the music, and the fire, and the book in his lap, he could not clear his thoughts. He didn't know how to move forward, and couldn't go back. Things were screwed up. He'd screwed things up.
Saturday night had been brutal. Sunday night as well.
Monday night had been spent on the couch at the office, where there was no fire, or music or beer, and he hadn't tried to read one of his books. He'd tossed and turned, and gotten little rest.
Tuesday night he'd actually slept. But it had been sitting up, on Henry's couch, his thoughts getting a small reprieve, partly out of sheer exhaustion, and partly because the focus of his attention the three previous sleepless nights was seated just a couple feet away.
Wednesday night had been restless again. After the dream he'd had about Vic at the office the previous night, and then his admission about how he'd miss her, followed by their phone call, he could not get his thoughts to settle down. He hadn't even bothered with a book, as he stared into the fire, and re-visited their conversations, both real and imagined.
And last night, as they'd sat on the couch in Henry's office and Vic had shown him his high school yearbook she was looking through, he'd been taken in by the gleam in her eyes. And when his hand had landed on her forearm, he couldn't remove it, focused on the feel of her skin beneath his thumb and the overwhelming desire to keep touching her.
Later, back at his cabin, the book had laid unopened on his chest, and after only one record, he had risen, gone to his room, stripped down to his boxers, and slid between the cool sheets. He didn't think about their recent conversations, or his regrets, or the tension between them.
Instead he saw her bare shoulder.
He remembered the feel of his hands in her hair.
And his fingers at her side.
And his mouth on her neck.
And when he eventually fell asleep, his night wasn't dreamless.
Just before five o'clock he woke with a start, and it took him a moment to realize Vic wasn't actually in his bed.
With his heart pounding in his chest, and his eyes directed at the ceiling, he took a deep breath. And then another. After a few minutes he pushed himself up to a seated position on the side of the bed. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and his gaze landed on his bathroom door. He thought that a shower might help.
It didn't.
As his eyes closed under the stream of water, his thoughts drifted to Vic's mouth pressed against his.
And her laughter in his ears.
And the feel of her fingertips along his chest.
As he got dressed, he remembered Vic pulling his shirt off his shoulders.
As he waited for his coffee to finish brewing, he remembered them tumbling onto the mattress, all arms, and legs, and bare skin.
The cool morning air that greeted him as he stood on his front porch looking out into the dark helped, but the reprieve was brief. He remembered holding her at his side under the umbrella as they ran to the cabin through the rain, and as he turned to lock the front door that morning, he could picture her standing close, looking at him in that distracting way of hers.
With his coffee in his right hand, and the box of Henry's yearbooks in the other, he made his way to his truck.
He rested his thermos on the roof of the Bronco, yanked open the door, and threw the box onto the passenger seat. He retrieved his coffee and then folded himself into the vehicle. Starting up the truck, he opened the driver-side window, removed his hat, and then closed his eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Again, he saw Vic's eyes as she stared back at him. After a moment he shook his head, put his hat back on and shifted into drive.
He needed to get his mind on something else.
XX
Pulling into a spot in front of the motel, Walt looked out his window. About half the rooms had cars in front of them, but all the lights were out, which wasn't surprising given how early it was. He'd been one of the few cars on the road on the way here.
Walt exited his truck and walked the short distance to the front office, looking up at the lighted Big Horn motel sign as he did.
Expecting a drowsy employee behind the desk due to the early hour and low volume of customers, he was surprised by the man's alertness as he entered the room. The man did not appear to be surprised by his presence.
"Morning."
Walt nodded in response. "Morning."
"Need a room or are you here on Sheriff's business?"
Walt briefly wondered if a different bed might help him sleep.
"Sheriff's business."
"Is this regarding that young man who stayed here earlier this week?"
Walt remembered that Branch had stopped at the motel to ask about Tyler.
"Yep. I have a few more questions. Were you the one on duty Monday morning?"
The man nodded and stuck out his hand. "I'm Paul. I talked to one of your deputies on Tuesday."
Walt nodded. "Deputy Connally said you have a working camera."
The man looked down. "We do. I can see the feed here on this monitor."
Walt stepped to the side of the counter so he could see the screen. The strip of rooms and parking spots were visible.
"Which room was Tyler Daniels in?"
"Room 5. Here." He pointed at a room a few past the room Walt was parked in front of.
"Do you remember him leaving that morning?"
"I do, but it's not because I saw it on this monitor. I ran in to him when he was on his way out."
"What time was that?"
"8:10. Maybe 8:15. I get off at 8:00, and chatted to the next guy on duty for a few minutes before leaving."
"Do you remember what Tyler was wearing?"
"Uh...he said he was going hiking. I guess he was dressed like he was going to go do that."
"Red baseball cap?"
Paul paused. "Yeah."
"Did it say T-birds on the hat?"
"Uh...maybe?"
"Was Tyler carrying anything?"
"He had a backpack with him." Paul glanced to the side. "I don't remember him having anything else, but he could have loaded other things in his truck before I ran in to him."
"Was the dog already in the truck?"
Paul's eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Dog? He had a dog with him? We don't allow dogs to stay in the motel rooms."
"Did the dog stay in the truck overnight?"
"I don't remember a dog."
"Did he say anything else to you as he was leaving?"
"He asked where he could grab some breakfast."
"And you directed him to the Busy Bee?"
"Yeah. Well, it was one of the options I gave him."
"Did you see him talk to anyone else at the hotel that morning?"
"No."
"Was there anyone staying with him in his room?"
"Not that I saw."
Walt looked back at the monitor. "Do you record the video feed?"
"We do, but it gets recorded over after twenty-four hours."
Walt looked over at the door through which he had entered. After a moment he turned back toward Paul.
"Is room 5 empty right now?"
"I think so." Paul checked his records. "Yeah, no one's been in it since Mr. Daniels checked out on Tuesday."
"Can I take a look at it?"
"Oh. Um...it's been cleaned since he left."
"That's ok. I'd still like to see it."
"Um...sure. Let me get a key card."
Paul reached into a drawer and pulled out a white card. He typed on the keyboard and then slid the card into the card reader.
"Ok. Ready." Paul led the way out, with Walt right behind him.
Paul looked over his shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk. "What did this young man do that has the Sheriff's department so interested in him?"
"I'm afraid I can't share details from an active investigation."
They arrived at room 5. When Paul opened the door and reached inside to flip the switch, the light from the room spilled out on to the sidewalk, and lit the space between the curtains.
He stepped aside and let Walt enter. Walt scanned the room, passing over the bed and the furniture and landing on the door on the side wall.
He was jolted by the memory of another motel room with a connecting door. He briefly closed his eyes. After a few moments he turned toward the doorway.
"Does this door lead to the next room?"
Paul stepped into the room. "Yes. That's room 6 on the other side. Both doors have to be unlocked, from their own side, for someone to be able to pass through."
"Is there any other way out of this room?"
"No. These are the only two doors. And this is the only window."
Walt stepped further into the room and began to open the drawers in the dresser.
"Is there anyone staying in room 6 right now?"
Paul paused. "I don't think so. There was a couple staying in the room earlier this week, but they've checked out."
Walt looked up. "A couple? When did they get here?"
"I believe they arrived on Sunday, but I don't work the weekend, so I didn't check them in."
"Who was working on Sunday when they arrived?"
"I'd have to check the computer to see when they checked in to confirm."
"And when did they leave?"
"On Tuesday."
"Like Tyler."
Paul paused. "Yeah, I guess they checked in and out on the same days."
"Do you remember what this couple looked like?"
"I...uh...I think they were in their early twenties. I didn't talk to either of them, but I saw them on the monitor when they left their room early Monday morning."
Walt straightened and moved over to the end table. He opened the drawer and then bent down to look under the bed.
"What time did they leave on Monday?"
"I don't remember exactly. It was still dark, so it was before seven o'clock."
"What kind of car did they drive?"
Paul walked to the door and looked out at the parking spots. "I don't recall them having a car. At least not one parked in front of their room. Monday morning they left on foot."
"Did you get a look at them as they walked by the front office windows?"
"They didn't cross in front of the office."
Walt walked across the room and joined Paul in the doorway. "They left on foot, but didn't head out to the road?"
Paul moved to the sidewalk, took a few steps and extended his arm. "These are actually two separate buildings. There's a split here, between room 6 and room 7. This is how they left Monday morning."
Walt joined Paul where he stood, finding a walkway with a gate at the end.
"What's on the other side of the gate?"
"There's a lot, and on the other side of that is a road back to the main road."
Walt started down the walkway. "So the couple from room 6 could have parked back there? Or been picked up by someone parked back there?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
Walt opened the gate, and stepped through. There were a few cars parked in the back, but no one was in sight.
Walt turned and headed back up the walkway. He glanced back at Paul. "Did you see the couple return to their room?"
Paul closed the gate behind them and followed him. "No."
"And when you ran into Tyler Monday morning, did you actually see him come out of his room, or did you just see him outside his truck?"
Paul paused in thought. "I guess I just saw him as he neared his truck."
When they both reached the sidewalk, Paul looked up at Walt. "So you think Mr. Daniels knew the couple in room 6?"
"I'm not sure." Walt pointed toward the open door to room 5. "Are the rooms cleaned every day?"
"Yes. The occupied ones, at least."
"Did the person who cleaned rooms 5 and 6 on Monday mention whether the door on the inner wall was unlocked in either room?"
"That's Jan who cleans them. I'm not sure. She cleans the rooms after I'm gone for the day. But there's a chance that if both doors were closed all the way that she wouldn't have noticed if one or both of them were left unlocked."
"What time does Jan start working?"
"She gets in between 8:30 and 9:00."
"Let's go back to the office and check the records to see what time that couple in room 6 checked in and out, and find out their names."
XX
Walt lifted the coffee carafe as he watched the front of the store out of the corner of his eye. The chime, signaling a customer walking in, caused the cashier to lift his head and nod in greeting at the man who entered. The customer smiled in return and walked up to the counter as he took out his wallet. Walt mentally calculated how long it took him to reach the register.
"Hey Jim. Pump number two."
They continued talking, but Walt couldn't follow along from where he stood. He finished pouring his cup of coffee and was putting on the lid when the door chimed again, this time a woman walking in. The cashier paused to turn his head to look her way.
The woman scanned the store as she stepped over to the counter. She had an impatient air about her. "Do you sell...oh never mind. I see it." She strode down the aisle as she lifted her cell phone to her ear.
The cashier returned his attention to the paying customer, handing him his change.
"Thanks Jim."
"See ya, Nate."
As Nate left the store, Walt watched as the woman approached the counter, still talking on her cell phone. "I'm on my way. I had to stop to get something with caffeine or I was going to fall asleep at the wheel." Jim rang up her beverage after she lifted it in the air for him to see. "Just a sec..." The woman paused her conversation long enough to pull out her credit card.
Walt began walking toward the counter as the woman made her way to the door, the paper cup warm in his hands.
"Can I get you anything in addition to that coffee, Sheriff?"
Walt placed the cup on the counter and pulled out his wallet. "How long have you worked here, Jim?"
"Almost two months."
At the chime, Jim looked toward the door and the new customer walking in, before returning his gaze to Walt.
"This the busy time of the day?"
"It ebbs and flows. It's a little busier than normal right now. Usually picks up closer to seven. People tend to come on the way to and from work, and on the weekends."
Walt handed him a five dollar bill. "This coffee any good?"
Jim smiled as he handed Walt his change. "You're drinking it at your own risk."
With an arch of his eyebrow, Walt placed the bills in his wallet and slid it back into his pocket. "It's the kind of morning where I guess I'm willing to take the risk."
He turned toward the door, but stopped and glanced back at Jim. "Do you know Andy Bowman? I think he started working here a couple weeks back."
XX
Walt stood at the side of his Bronco, the only one at the gas pumps. The Filling Station wasn't as busy as the Exxon had been, but of course it didn't benefit from being right off of 90. As the pump came to a stop, indicating his tank was full, Walt lifted the nozzle and returned it to its perch. He screwed the cover back on, closed the door to his tank, and then headed for the entrance.
He glanced around the store as he walked in, noting that he was the only one there other than the cashier. The man behind the counter hadn't looked up as Walt entered, but closed the magazine he'd been reading as Walt neared the register.
"Which pump?"
"Number one."
The cashier glanced at his screen.
"Twenty-three dollars."
Walt handed him two twenties. As the cashier counted out his change, Walt's saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a minivan pull up to one of the pumps.
"Here you go."
Walt turned to find the cashier's hand extended, holding out his seventeen dollars in change.
"You worked here long?"
The cashier looked directly at him for the first time.
"Uh...a little over three years." His eyes fell to Walt's badge and then returned to his face.
Walt noticed the yellow stained fingers on the cashier's right hand.
"What do you do when you need to take a smoke break?"
The cashier's forehead creased as he paused before answering. "I wait until it isn't really busy, and stand out front so I can see if anyone comes in."
"Did you hear that this place was robbed on Monday morning?"
Again the cashier's eyes dropped to Walt's badge. "Pete told me."
"Have you seen anyone lingering in the store, or outside the store when you've been on your smoke breaks the past couple weeks?"
The cashier looked toward the front door. "No, not that I can think of."
"What's your name?"
"Steve."
Walt glanced between the door and the register, taking in the distance, before looking back at Steve. "Do you know Kyle Walton, the cashier who was at the register on Monday morning?"
XX
"Walt."
"Morning, AJ."
Walt shifted his weight as AJ continued to look out at him.
"What am I doing? Come in."
AJ stepped to the side and let him enter. "Already working?"
"Yep."
AJ turned and made his way to the back of the store. "Didn't realize you started work so early."
Walt looked around the store as he followed him across the room. "I couldn't sleep. Decided I might as well get some work done if I was already up."
AJ gave a light laugh as he looked back at him over his shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean." He pulled open a door that led into a storage room. "Were you just passing by the store and saw the lights on?"
Standing in the doorway, Walt watched AJ read the labels on a few boxes until he appeared to find the one he was looking for. "I've been stopping by the stores that were robbed on Monday, to see if anything new stands out."
AJ placed a box in Walt's arms, returned to get one of his own to carry and then led the way back out to the store floor.
"Have you gained any new insights?" Placing the box on a nearby step stool, AJ turned and took the box out of Walt's hands.
"Not sure yet. I'm still sorting through everything to see if there is anything there." When AJ opened one of the boxes, removed two bottles and placed them on a nearby shelf, Walt followed suit.
When the box was empty, AJ removed it from the stack and opened the next one.
Walt reached into the box, paused and glanced down at the bottle of whiskey in his hands, thinking back to the previous Friday night. After a moment he placed it on the shelf and turned toward the wine bottles on the other side of the aisle.
"How was Tuck's first night back at home?"
"It was...it was good having him there. I think he was glad to not be sleeping in a hospital bed for another night." AJ turned around and leaned back against the shelf. "He's not done with the hospital of course. He'll have at least one more surgery on his hand. And then they'll be rehab."
"The doctor sounded optimistic about Tuck's recovery."
AJ exhaled. "Yeah."
Walt picked up one of the bottles of wine from the shelf, and then another.
"Didn't realize you'd become a wine drinker."
The corners of Walt's mouth turned upwards. "I haven't. Still a Rainier man." Gesturing toward the options on the shelves in front of him, Walt looked over at AJ. "Do you have a recommendation for a bottle of red?"
"Dinner with Cady?"
Walt thought it would be easier if he went with that as the story.
"Yep."
Joining Walt's side, AJ pulled a bottle off the shelf. "I think she'd like this Shiraz."
Walt looked down at the label and then placed it back on the shelf. "Ok. I'll come back when you're open to buy it."
"Nonsense. Take it with you now. Save yourself a trip."
Walt reached into his back pocket for his wallet.
AJ placed his hand on Walt's arm. "It's on me."
Walt hesitated.
Laughing out loud, AJ returned to the other side of the aisle. "I'm not buying off the Sheriff. It's a thank you." His eyes grew more serious. "For helping my son...talk to me."
Walt held AJ's eyes for a moment. "You don't need to thank me."
"I want to."
Walt bowed his head slightly, and the two stood there silently for a moment before Walt reached into the box, pulled out a whiskey bottle and handed it to AJ.
Placing the bottle on the shelf, AJ turned and crossed his arms. "Ok. Enough helping me out with my work. You came here to do yours."
XX
Walt jumped at the sound of a hand rapping against the window. His eyes flew open, and then squinted in the morning glare. Vic stood outside the passenger-side door, looking in. He froze for a moment, sure that what he had just been dreaming about was evident on his face. When Vic's eyebrows rose in an 'are you going to let me in?' kind of way, he scrambled to sit up. As he ran his hand through his hair, he tried to calm his body down, and shake the fogginess from his brain at the same time.
"Walt."
She didn't sound angry, or frustrated even, but the bluntness of the 't' at the end of his name suggested that she was on the verge of impatience. He fumbled to unlock the door.
As she reached for the handle, his eyes fell first on his hat, then on the box of yearbooks on which his hat rested, and then the brown paper bag containing the wine bottle on the floor. Walt quickly leaned over, picking up the paper bag, and then removed his hat from the top of the box. Pulling back the cardboard flaps, he shoved the wine bottle on top of the books, before lifting the box and placing it behind his seat.
As he turned, Vic was sliding into the passenger side, her eyes on him.
He shifted so that he was facing forward, heat rising in his face as he remembered how he had been picturing her just moments ago.
"Did I wake you from your nap?"
"I..." He cleared his throat as his hand went to the back of his neck. "I wasn't napping."
"So...what'ya doing, then?" He could feel her eyes on him. "Other than not napping."
He continued to look out the windshield. "I'm waiting for Ace Hardware to open."
She took in his rumpled state. "Did you sleep here in your truck last night, waiting for it to open?"
Adjusting in his seat, Walt lifted his left hand to look at the watch on his wrist. "It kind of feels like it, but it's been less than an hour."
He glanced over at Vic, who bore her 'I'm waiting for the full story' look. "I've been stopping by all the stores that were robbed. This was the only one not open. Well technically AJ's place wasn't open, but AJ was there with the lights on, and let me in."
Vic sat silently for a moment, staring back at him. He couldn't read the look on her face, which concerned him a bit. "Why are you visiting all of the stores?"
"I guess I didn't start with the stores. I started with the motel that Tyler stayed at. I wanted to see if I could talk to the person on duty that morning. I thought maybe he'd remember Tyler interacting with someone."
"And?"
"There's a video feed of the hotel rooms that enables him to see the comings and goings on the monitor in the front office. He never saw Tyler leave his room while he was on duty Monday morning. Of course he probably doesn't watch it every moment, so he might have missed something, but he seemed pretty on top of things. He said Tyler's truck was parked outside his room until he left a little after eight."
"And did he see Tyler interact with anyone?"
"No, but there was a couple in their early twenties staying in the room next to his. I'm wondering if it was his partner. Or partners. They stayed at the motel during the same timeframe, and their rooms were connected by doors that could have allowed Tyler to leave the hotel early Monday morning without it looking like he was leaving his room."
Vic shifted in her seat toward him. "So you think Tyler could have been involved in the first robbery? Actually involved, not just waiting in the wings pulling the strings like the other ones?"
Walt's gaze fell to Vic's left knee, which she had pulled on to her seat when she shifted her position. He paused and then tore his eyes away. "It's possible. It's the one robbery he doesn't have a solid alibi for. His truck being parked out front his room doesn't mean he was there."
"Who do you think the couple was?"
"I'm not sure, but I think we should track down that girlfriend he mentioned to Dorothy. The owner of that dog he's been carting around."
Vic arched an eyebrow. "You think she was one of the two people staying in the room next to his? That she's been involved in these crimes?"
"Maybe. It's a place to start, anyway."
Vic looked out the windshield, as they both sat silently for a moment.
"Which store did you start with?"
"I decided to time how long it would take to drive to the Exxon from the motel. Once I was there, I decided to take a look around. At the layout of the store. At other customers around at this time of day. I was able talk to an employee we haven't talked to yet."
"And?"
"The cashier, Jim, has only worked there a couple months. He's still new enough that he takes note of every individual that enters the store, and keeps his eyes on the pumps. The cashier at The Filling Station, which I went to next, has worked there for three years and didn't even look up when I entered."
"Ok."
"If Andy has only been working at Exxon a couple weeks, my guess is that his behavior is more like Jim's. That he's still paying attention to the customers that walk in."
"Ok."
"Andy told you that the person who robbed the store approached him from behind, and because of that he didn't really see him. I'm having a hard time believing that to be true. I think that Andy would have paid attention to every individual entering the store, given how new of an employee he is."
"What if the guy came into the store from the back?"
"Jim says the back door has an alarm on it that's armed when the door's not open to receive deliveries, so the only way in for the perpetrator was to come through the store entrance."
"What if it was really busy, and Andy didn't see the guy enter?"
"Maybe. But there wasn't anyone in the store the entire time it was being robbed, so it might not have been very busy. Jim said it starts getting busier around seven as people fill up on their way to work, but with it being Columbus Day, and schools and some businesses closed, I'm guessing it wasn't very busy at 6:30 that morning."
Vic tapped the middle console with her fingers. "And there's a chime on the door, so the guy couldn't just sneak in when he saw that Andy had his back turned. Which means Andy would have seen the guy enter the store."
"Yep. Regardless of whether the guy entered as a customer and hung out in the store before putting his mask on, or came in to the store in the act of robbing it, mask on, gun drawn, Andy would have gotten at least a glimpse of him when the chime announced his entrance."
"God dammit, I'm tired of these kids lying to us. Do you think he recognized the guy, even with his mask on, and doesn't want to reveal who it was?"
"Possibly."
They both returned to staring out the windshield.
Walt dropped his gaze to his hands which he'd placed on the steering wheel. "How did you know I was here, in the parking lot?"
"I didn't. We got a call at the station from the manager at Ace Hardware."
"He called to report that I was napping in my truck?"
"I thought you weren't napping?"
The corners of Walt's mouth lifted. "Some may confuse my closed eyes for napping."
"He called because he found an envelope slipped under the store's front door this morning. The envelope contained the twelve-dollar 'I owe you' mentioned in the previous note."
He straightened. "Really?"
"Yep.
Vic placed her hand on the door handle. "Wanna go in and talk to him with me?"
Without pausing, he reached out to open his door.
As they made their way across the parking lot toward the entrance to the store, Vic glanced in his direction.
"Why did you do this...investigating...all on your own this morning? Why didn't you call me...any of us...to help you out?"
Walt's steps faltered slightly. "It was early. I didn't think you'd be up when I started at 5:30 this morning."
"You could have come in to the office and waited until I came in."
"I..." Walt didn't think he should admit that he had needed some space this morning. That he was having a hard enough time trying to clear the images of her from his mind, without her being present and making it worse. She wouldn't take it too well if he admitted he was trying to avoid her, because he wouldn't be able to explain why. He needed to stick to the other reasons he had gone out solo this morning.
"I wanted to trace the path the thief took around the same time he took it Monday morning. I didn't think you'd be up when I started, and then just got on a roll."
Once again Walt couldn't read her expression. She, on the other hand, was quite adept at reading him, and could probably tell he was holding something back.
Vic paused with her hand on the door to the store. "Ok."
XX
"Hey Ferg."
Vic pushed through the low swinging door, as Walt stopped at the coat rack to hang up his hat and jacket.
He watched as she placed the plastic bag containing the envelope that had been dropped off at the hardware store on the desk before the deputy. "Look what we've got."
Ferg's eyes grew as he read the message on the back of the envelope. Turning, Walt found Ruby standing in front of her desk with a couple post-its in her hand.
She held out the first one so he could read the note. Sheriff Tom Haskill, returning their call after Vic had left him a message on their drive back to the station.
Ruby dropped her hand. "He's back in the office and says it's your turn to call him."
She held out the second message and let him read it. "She said she was just calling with a reminder."
Walt straightened. "At what point will people just trust that I'm going to remember my plans?"
"You've got to earn that trust, Walter. And with your track record..."
He gave a shrug. "Most of the time my not showing up is not because I don't remember."
"It's because you don't make your personal plans a priority over work-related matters. The reminders are not because they think you'll forget. The reminders are because they want to tell you how important the plans are to them."
Walt held Ruby's eyes for a moment. "Ok. Thanks."
Ruby gave him a soft smile and then returned to her chair.
Stepping through the swinging doors, Walt saw Vic still leaning over Ferg's desk.
"Hey Walt, Ferg's found something interesting."
Ferg beamed at the acknowledgement, and then stood. Walt placed the box he was carrying down on Vic's desk and then stepped closer to Ferg's.
Vic gave Ferg's shoulder a nudge. "Tell him what you told me,"
Ferg placed his hand on a sheet of paper and slid it closer to Walt. "This is a print-out of a picture Tyler had posted. You mentioned that he's been driving around with a German Shepard."
Walt leaned in. The picture was of two girls, late teens or early twenties. Beside one of the girls was a dog that bore a strong resemblance to the German Shepard that had been in Tyler's truck. The girls appeared to be dressed for hiking.
Ferg looked up at Walt. "Neither girl was tagged in the photo, but since it looks like they are out on a hike, they could be part of Tyler's outdoor club...or maybe some of the club members would at least know who they are."
Ferg let Walt study the photograph before continuing. "Also, I don't know if it's relevant to the case, but when I was looking through Tyler's pictures online, and those that he'd had on his computer, I noted that all of the pictures seemed to be from the last couple years. He didn't have any from when he was younger.
Placing one of the Sheridan High yearbooks in front of Walt, he pointed down at a picture. "This is Tyler's freshman year picture. It's the only picture of him in this book."
Walt took in the picture and then looked up at Vic.
Ferg slid a second yearbook in front of Walt. "This is his picture from sophomore year."
Walt looked down at the picture, before glancing back at the freshman year picture. Tyler had lost significant weight in the time between the two pictures being taken. The picture from his sophomore year was a younger version of the Tyler he recognized.
He felt Vic's shoulder against his as she leaned toward the books in front of him. "It supports Rich's claim that Tyler accomplishes the things he sets out to accomplish. That's a lot of weight Tyler lost between freshman and sophomore year. It possibly also supports Rich's claim that Tyler gets obsessive about the things he focuses on."
She looked up at Walt. "Should we go up to Sheridan and talk to Tyler again? Ask him about his girlfriend?"
"Uh...I don't think you'll find him in Sheridan today." Ferg opened up his laptop, and then turned his computer so they could see his screen. "It looks like he is hiking this weekend. He's already posted some pictures from a trail in Devils Tower."
Walt straightened. "I think we need to talk to some other people in Tyler's life."
Walt started to head for his office and then paused and turned around.
"Nice work, Ferg."
Ferg beamed again.
Walt walked in to his office and over to his desk. As he picked up his phone, Vic appeared in his doorway.
Holding up the post-it, he dialed the number listed at the bottom. It rang twice.
"Sheriff Haskill."
"Tom. Walt Longmire."
"Morning, Walt. You called earlier. What's up?"
Walt put the phone on speaker. "There's a chance Tyler Daniels' partner was in the room next to him at the motel he stayed at earlier this week. When I get a description from the person on duty when they checked in, I'll share it with you."
"Ok."
"Also, we want to find Tyler's girlfriend. Tyler's out of town on a hiking trip, so while we wait for him to get back, we want to talk to his mother, Joanne Daniels, to see what she knows about his girlfriend. Can you arrange that?"
"Sure. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but could you head up here then?"
He glanced over at Vic, who nodded. "Sure, that works for Vic and me. Is Rich Sollinger still in the hospital?"
"I believe so."
"Could you arrange the meeting at her home? We'd like to talk to her without Rich in the room, and get a look at where Tyler lives."
"I can arrange that. I'll call you back once I have the meeting confirmed." He paused. "Do you think Tyler's girlfriend is involved?"
"We don't know yet, but we'd like to talk to her."
"Ok. I'll get back to you soon."
"Thanks."
Walt hung up as Vic walked across the room to stand in front of the wall containing what they knew about the case so far.
Joining her side, Walt scanned the information until he found the note he was looking for. He pulled it from the board and walked back to the phone.
Looking over at Vic, he held up the card. "This is the contact information for the two members of the Trailhead Outdoor Club that vouched for Tyler's whereabouts on Saturday morning."
He put the phone on speaker, and dialed the first number listed.
It went directly to voice mail. "Hey, this is Cody. If I'm not answering, it's either because I'm in class or out of range on some mountain. Leave a message and I'll call you back."
Walt hung up, and dialed the next number. After two rings, someone answered. "What's up?"
"I'm looking for Cody. Is he home?"
"Yeah right. He's off on one of his hiking weekends."
"Is Bryce with him?"
"Yep. The two left bright and early this morning."
"Do you know when they'll be back?"
"They're usually back by noon on Sunday. Who did you say you were?"
"I'll call back on Sunday. Thanks."
XX
Walt looked across the table at Vic, but when she started to lift her head, he dropped his gaze.
He was sitting with Vic and Ferg at the table in his office. The Durant High School yearbooks were open before them as they searched through the pictures. After lunch, it had been Vic's suggestion to continue looking through the books since they hadn't made much progress the previous night. It had been his idea to include Ferg.
Again, his eyes drifted to Vic, watching as she sucked on her lower lip.
"Uh...Walt."
Quickly dropping his gaze, Walt momentarily froze, wondering if Ferg had seen where he'd been staring.
Ferg stood and then flipped the yearbook he'd been looking at around. On the page before them was a picture of the Durant high school football team. Walt located both Tuck and Kyle in the picture.
Vic straightened. "We already know that Tuck and Kyle knew each other from football."
"Did you notice what it says over here?" Ferg pointed down to a note on the page. 'Not pictured: Andy Bowman (team manager).' This is the yearbook from Andy's freshman year."
Vic stood and leaned over the table to get a better look. "Andy was one of the team managers? If that was the case, he would know both Tuck and Kyle, but he said he didn't." As she stood, Walt had no problem reading the frustration evident on her face. "I'm going to strangle these shits. Why don't any of these damn kids tell us the whole truth? They're making our work a whole lot more difficult than it needs to be."
Ferg smiled. "Maybe that's why."
At her glare, he placed another yearbook in front of them, open to the football team's picture from that year. "I looked at the football team's picture from Andy's sophomore year. Kyle's still on the team, but Andy's no longer listed as team manager."
Walt pulled the book closer. "We need to ask Andy why he didn't tell us he knew Tuck and Kyle, and about getting a glimpse of the guy who robbed the store, but then telling us he didn't see him."
Vic crossed her arms across her chest. "We should drop by the school, so we can catch him coming out of class. What time does Durant high school get out this afternoon?"
The phone on Walt's desk began to ring. All three of them looked over at it.
Ferg began walking toward the door. "I'll call the school office to find out."
Vic paused a moment and then followed him out of the room.
Walt stood, walked over to the desk and picked up the handset.
"Sheriff Longmire."
"Walt. It's Tom."
Walt looked up as Vic returned to the room, the plastic bag containing the envelope in her hand. He punched the button for the speakerphone, as she shut the door behind her.
"Did you get ahold of Joanne Daniels?" He watched as Vic walked across the room and pulled something off the wall.
"I did. We're on for noon tomorrow, at her home. Do you need the address?"
Vic appeared near the corner of his desk. She hoisted herself up to sit on the edge and then leaned in toward the phone. "We have her address from the report you sent."
"Great. I'll see you two at midday tomorrow. Call if something changes."
"Yep. Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow."
As he hung up, he looked over at Vic.
"Still good with heading up there tomorrow on our day off?"
"Ah...sure."
Standing a couple feet away, he watched her flip the plastic bag containing the original 'I owe you note' and the one with the envelope they'd retrieved that morning back and forth between her hands and then stop to stare at the messages.
Walt lifted his eyes from her hands to her face. "What?"
"I don't know. Something's bothering me about these notes."
"What?"
"The thief who broke into the hardware store was off camera for what, three or four minutes? In that time he located the aisle with the duct tape, pulled three rolls off the hook they were hanging on, left the 'I owe you note,' ran to the back door, set off the alarm trying to open it, and then ran back to the front door. Did he use a post-it note and pen that he took from the store, or did he bring them with them? Did he even have time to write a note there in the store or did he write the note in advance, which would mean it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave it, but pre-meditated?"
"We could go back to the store and time the different options."
Vic grinned. "What I wouldn't give to see you running the aisles at Ace Hardware."
"I was thinking more like you would run and I would time."
"Oh really, and why is that?"
"The guy was closer to your body type than mine."
Vic raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you saying I have a boy-like frame?"
Walt paused. "Uh...what?"
"You are! You think I'm built like a boy."
"I...I don't think you're built like a boy—"
"You do. That's pretty much what you're inferring by saying I would make a good stand-in for the guy."
Walt could feel the heat rising up his neck. How did they get on this topic?
"That's not what I'm inferring."
Vic sat up straighter, accentuating her very un-boy-like upper body. It wasn't necessary to remind him of what he already knew. "I mean, I know I can slouch like a teenager, but, really, I would have thought that you—"
Walt's eyes flashed to the door, which was thankfully closed. "Vic, ok. Enough. I don't think you're built like a boy and you know it."
Her grin seemed to spread from ear to ear as she tapped the outside of his left leg with the inside of her right one. "I do know it."
He took a step closer. "I just meant that on the camera he didn't look as tall and broad-chested as I am."
She blinked a couple times. "No, he didn't." Her eyes flicked down to his chest and back up to his face, her expression suggesting she had first-hand knowledge of that fact.
He took another step closer. "Maybe we could get Ferg to be the stand-in."
"I think he might take offense that you're equating him to a teenager."
The corners of his mouth turned upwards. "Ok, maybe Branch could do it."
She laughed out loud. "I think Branch would actually see the request as a complement."
Her smile, and the gleam in her eye, seemed to have some kind of gravitational pull on him, as they'd had last night on Henry's couch, and he stepped closer again. Her smile slowly faded, although her eyes still shone as they held his.
"Ok, it's settled. We'll have Branch run through the various note-leaving options so we can determine which of them can be pulled off in under four minutes."
Vic placed her hand on Walt's phone.
"Want me to call hi—"
But before she could finish her question, Walt's mouth crashed down on hers.
He placed his hands on the desk at each side of her hips as he stepped in between her legs. She seemed surprised at first, but then squeezed his sides with her thighs, brought her hands to his chest and matched the pressure of his lips with her own.
After a moment he pulled back, to catch a breath and gauge her reaction. The heated look in her eyes had him pause only a moment before finding her lips again.
As her arms wound around his neck, his encircled her back to bring her closer. He felt her fingernails flare across his scalp. One of his hands went to her neck, his thumb grazing her check. The other went to her side, his thumb tracing the curve of her breast.
At a knock on the door, Walt immediately stepped back, and with a quick glance down, took a seat in his chair. His eyes flew up to Vic, who sat frozen on the edge of his desk. With a glance at her face, he put his hand on her knee.
"Don't turn around."
She gave him a quizzical look. He raised his right hand to the scruff along his jaw.
"You look like you've been kissed."
Her hand flew to her face, and then a moment later she hopped off the desk.
Walt cleared his throat as Vic walked over to the wall with all their notes and pictures. "Come in."
As Ferg walked in, Vic raised her cell phone to her ear. Her 'conversation' gave her a reason not to have to turn around while Ferg was in the room.
Ferg briefly looked over at Vic and then back at Walt. "I called the front office at Durant High. School gets out in an hour."
Walt heard Vic pretend to argue with someone on the other end of her call as he glanced down at his watch.
"Uh...thanks Ferg. Vic and I will head over there shortly. Could you call the school back and let them know we'll be stopping by the office. Don't tell them that we'll be coming specifically to see Andy. We'll tell them when we get there."
"Sure." With a final look over at Vic, Ferg turned and left the room.
Walt walked across the office and shut the door. He stayed with his back to Vic, taking a deep breath. After a moment he turned to find her looking back at him, her phone still in her hand, but now down by her side.
He really couldn't read her today, as she had regained her neutral expression.
Slowly he began to make his way toward her. When he was a couple feet in front of her he stopped. Her chin and the area around her lips still looked red and tender, and he reached out, placing his hand against her cheek. Her skin felt slightly warm against his cool palm, and she closed her eyes at the contact.
He flipped his hand over and ran the back of his fingers along her jaw, avoiding the areas that looked raw. "Sorry. I have foregone shaving this week. I had...other things occupying my mind, for some reason.
She opened her eyes, a small smile lighting her lips.
"I can't go back out there looking like this."
"No, you can't." He dropped his hand.
"I think I should head home, and then meet you over at the school."
He searched her face, still trying to gauge her reaction. "Ok. I'll...I'll go grab your jacket."
He left the room and made his way to Vic's desk. Ferg was on the phone and didn't look over in his direction. Walt pulled her jacket off the back of her chair, and then decided to also grab her laptop and backpack.
Closing the door behind him as he stepped into the office, he found Vic standing in the spot he'd left her in.
He walked over to her and handed her the jacket. While she slipped it on, he placed the laptop and power cord into her backpack and zipped it shut.
When she was done putting on her jacket, he handed over the bag.
She slipped it over her left shoulder. With her left hand on the strap, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Ok. I'll see you in a bit. I'll meet you in the school office in forty-five minutes."
"Ok."
"Ok."
They stood that way for another moment before Vic finally turned and headed for the private entrance to his office.
She paused with her hand on the doorknob. "You probably don't think I'm built like a boy now."
Walt blinked. "Oh, I already had evidence regarding that. There was never any doubt."
She flashed him a smile and then slipped out the door. He could already imagine the types of dreams he was going to have tonight.