He rescued her from her thoughts. She was thankful to him and she envied him in her own way as he approached them seemingly engrossed in the entire situation. He kept his voice low as if Walt would suddenly leap from the dense trees surrounding the classically styled property.
"Jada Andersen called Ruby. She was prying as usual about Heather having visitors and cutting through on her private road."
Vic's shoulders press back as she and Eamon listen to Ferg's detailed turn of events.
"She sorta unleashed on Ruby telling her it was the Sheriff." Ferg looks away then back at them as if he's editing the real time version of the phone call, "We put two-and-two together and well."
Ferg sighs and Vic's eyes roll toward the house.
"What's the play here, Vic?" Eamon asks.
Her mouth twists and she looks at Ferg, "Ferg, transport the prisoner and then meet us out there. It's on the county line so I'll have Eamon come with us in case the old lady goes bat-shit crazy on us and becomes a distraction."
Ferg's lips press together and stiffness comes over his face as he nods in agreement and he moves Andrew Price to his unconventional police car.
She recaps the update to Walt and he doesn't ask any questions. He barely looks at her as he thumps a sealed envelope against his fingers. He presses the letter into his back pocket and doesn't say a word and as he follows her out of the door she tosses him the keys to her truck, "I'll ride with Eamon." She says and Walt's guts do another summersault.
He grunts as his eyes squint to the mid-morning sun. That's what lovers do he tells himself and predictably it does not make him feel any better about the situation. His hypocrisy is evident, even to him, but he presses on and follows the Charger onto the main road. He rubs his jaw with fingers that had only recently caressed the soft curves of Donna's body but oddly the brief memory does nothing to appease him. The ball in his stomach is winding up tighter and it's swelling just a little larger as he watches Eamon through the rear window taking routine glances at Vic and smiling. He puts the connection together and attributes it to the reality of the situation. He failed to protect his witness, possible victim, probable suspect, potential girlfriend. No matter which side he comes down on he's is in trouble, if not legally, than most certainly ethically by dating someone involved in a case. He's on the rail, not quite off of it, and as he drives against the glare of the sun, he can't help think he could fix this but for the life of him he isn't really sure how or if in fact he wants to and that fact confuses him more than anything.
Jada Andersen is waiting for them on her sprawling wrap around porch. She's wealthy, not rich, and she doesn't miss an opportunity to use that to her advantage.
"Took you long enough."
She says. Her lower teeth are stained from years of dipping. That's acceptable and polite behavior in these parts. She doesn't spit in public though that would be unladylike. She pivots her tongue subtly rearranging the pinch she has perched between her gum and her cheek. Her face frowns reflecting her bit of confusion seeing Walt get out of the truck instead of the Bronco.
"Hmm" she says loudly as if she's not embarrassed that anyone knows she's pretty much talking to herself, "Thought I saw you in your Bronco tearing up my road, Sheriff."
Walt takes off his hat, rests his leg on her lower porch, "How long ago was that Mrs. Andersen."
"You sure are getting' old." She says, "But then again I ain't seen you in a month of Sunday's. Since Martha died you can't seem to find your way to church except for funerals and such."
The older matriarchal woman finds his place and puts him in it without any qualms. Age and money. It's a deadly combination.
Walt shifts his weight and bears down on his hips, "Been busy Sheriffin'." He smiles and his voice goes a little weak, "You know that."
Her countenance softens and she shows a few more stained teeth, "I suppose I do."
"What did you see, ma'am."
"That old Bronc of yours going like a bat outta hell tearin' up my road."
Walt turns and looks back at the road. He studies Vic for a moment, the sunlight caught in her hair, framing her face. The image disrupted only by Eamon standing next to her having a quiet conversation meant only for the two of them.
"You figure it was headed to Heather's place?"
"Nowhere else to go heading that way, Walter."
"I figure you're right." He brushes his hat on the side of his thick thigh.
"After you go check it out come back by here and see about an old woman."
"I may not be able too." He puts his hat on his head. "I'm working a case. A kidnapping, really."
"Your truck got kidnapped."
"Something like that." He turns to walk back toward the white truck.
"Hmmm." She says.
"You ever go see Cole?" She asks just loud enough for him to hear her and he stops dead in his tracks and turns back to face her.
"Sometimes." He spits on the ground next to his boot and looks back at her, "But not like I should, Jada. Not like I should." His lower lip pushes up and his half-frown, half-smile reflect his humility and his shame.
He holds his head down and his left leg drags a little more than usual putting that sway into his hips that Vic forces herself not to stare at but she does look this time because he looks different.
"What'd the old lady say?" Eamon asks and Walt's blue eyes penetrate the young deputy's skin straight through to his bones.
This isn't the time to teach him the history lessons he needs to know he thinks and his silence is interpreted as arrogance or worse a form of jealousy that he's displayed before when it comes to his female deputy. Eamon looks off to the side, takes in a deep breath of the clean pure country air, and waits for the orders that are sure to come from the older lawman.
"Vic, ride with me so I can brief you on the situation." He says in a not-so-firm bark.
"No, Walt." She says with her arms folded across her chest. "You need to brief both of us. This is an officer safety situation."
His jaw clicks back and then forth, "The truck may be at Heather Andersen's place. She's always in Italy this time of year. The house should be empty."
"I'll follow you guys in." Eamon says and turns away before there's any more argument to be made. He starts up the Charger as a clue for the two of them.
Vic swings the driver's door open and slams the door. She stares at his long frame as he ambles across the front of the truck, his head down, rounds the fender, and gets in with his dusty boot landing on the rubberized weather floor mat handing her the keys. Their hands don't touch and she thinks he did that on purpose because she knows she did.
"Tell me the way." She says starting the truck and putting on her Ray Bans.
"Just follow the road." He says.
Vic looks out of her window and impulsively waves goodbye to the old woman on the towering porch but when she isn't greeted with a wave back she's not offended because she sees her slow nod and somehow Vic knows there's more than he's willing to tell between him and the old woman. She doesn't wait but she looks at him first, his fingers laced through the sissy bar, "You gonna tell me or what?"
"What?" His voice is gentle.
"What's going on, Walt?"
"How would anyone know that Heather isn't here?"
"How do you know. Did she tell you?"
He shakes his head, "No, but she's been going to Italy my entire life."
Vic looks, "Who are these people?"
"The Andersen's."
"Fuck, Walt. Come on."
He looks down at his feet and back through the front glass, "Ol' John Andersen was a lawman way back before I was born. His people settled in Wyoming back when it was a territory. They're Swedes. Anyway, they made their fortune in cattle and land and a little oil. Jada's family was wealthy though. She married down but she married good. John taught Lucian and he taught me."
"You never talk about him."
He looks at her and she swears his eyes turn transparent right before her, "Hurts too much." His lips seal shut. He looks back out of his window and rubs his fingers over his shallow bearded face. She wants to ask him more. She wants to ask him everything.
"How would Desmond Chan know to come here?" She says.
"Don't know." He answers and adjusts his hips in the seat, "But we'll find out."