Thanks for your messages inquiring about when I'd get another chapter for this story posted. Life has been very full, work's been busy, travel has been frequent and time for all things fanfiction has been almost non-existent. But when I got back in town this week I made a commitment to myself to get a chapter uploaded this weekend. Getting woken at 3:45 am by an intense storm gave me some unexpected time to do some writing. So, thanks to the rain, I'm getting this chapter up earlier than I expected. :)
Walt looked down at his gas gauge. Three-quarters full. Looking back at the road before him, he thought about how far he could go on it. How long he could drive before he would be radioed for not showing up at work. Or be turned around by guilt. Or a sense of responsibility.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and turned his head to see a grey pickup truck passing him on his left. The bed of the truck was already lined up with his driver side window and was pulling ahead. He scanned the side of the vehicle, but didn't recognize the Chevrolet. Glancing at his speedometer, he wondered briefly at anyone who had the audacity to pass a law enforcement official on a single lane road, even when said law enforcement official was lost in his own thoughts and driving slightly below the speed limit.
He looked back at the passing truck, noticing for the first time a dog in the back. The German Shepard stood calmly watching him, as if riding in the back of a truck was a common occurrence. Walt would have loved to pull the driver over and site him, but unfortunately it was not illegal to drive with an unrestrained dog in the back of a truck in most of Wyoming. Down in Cheyenne it was a different matter. But they weren't in Cheyenne.
The grey Chevy continued to pull ahead until the driver had enough space to pull in front of him. Walt kept his slightly-below-the-speed-limit pace, and the truck slowly pulled further and further ahead until it drew out of sight.
Walt envied the dog a bit. Well, not the part about having an owner who thought it ok to travel with his dog in the back of his truck. But the open road, open air part.
As Walt neared the downtown area of Durant, he slowed down further. Turning onto Main Street, he navigated the Bronco into a spot in front of the Busy Bee and put it in park. Pulling the handle of his door, he lowered his left boot to the pavement. With his right boot still inside the truck, he stood, resting his left forearm on top of the door and the right on the roof, and looked up at the sky. The thick clouds hung low. They'd had a break from the rain on Sunday, but it had remained overcast, and this morning the sky looked menacing.
Sliding his right foot out to join his left on the street, Walt turned his head toward the cafe to look in the window. He could make out Dorothy taking a table's order, and he was tempted to slide onto a stool at the counter and hang out for a couple hours while the looming storm passed through. The storm was the reason for staying. Not because he wanted to hide out. That's what he'd say if asked, at least.
Lowering his arms, Walt stepped back and shut the door. As he passed the bed of the truck parked in front of his on the way to the sidewalk, he was greeted by a whine. He recognized the dog whose head surfaced near the tailgate, noticing for the first time the grey Chevy he was parked behind. He looked down at the license plate, again confirming he did not recognize the vehicle.
Walt looked around to see if he could spot the owner, remembering the driver had been wearing a red baseball cap, but the sidewalk was empty in both directions. A wet tongue brought his attention back to the bed of the truck, and he slid his hand over the German Shepard's left ear.
He thought again of the open road. "Want to change spots?"
The dog barked in what Walt took to be as agreement, and licked his hand again excitedly.
Walt smiled. "I'm tempted."
He gave the dog's head one final rub and then stepped up on to the sidewalk. With a jingle, his presence in the doorway of the cafe was announced, causing Dorothy to look up. With a nod, she directed him toward the counter, and then turned back toward the table she was standing in front of.
Walt removed his hat and sidled up to a stool. He briefly glanced at the specials board, and then looked around the cafe. Dorothy wrapped up at the table she was taking an order from and appeared before him on the other side of the counter.
Walt gestured toward the street. "Any idea whose grey Chevy is parked out front?"
"What grey Chevy?"
"Don't you usually stay up on the comings and goings around here?"
"That would entail someone having to come in for me to keep track of them."
"Dorothy, your knowledge of comings and goings is not bound by these four walls."
Dorothy grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She pulled a mug out from below the counter. "The Bee's been busy this morning, so I haven't had a chance to notice who is parked out front. Why?"
"The owner of that truck has been driving around with a dog in the back. Thought I might have a word with him about it if we crossed paths."
Dorothy looked out the window. "I'll give you a call if I learn anything."
She brought her eyes back to his and paused as she took him in. "You're looking a little haggard, Walt. Is the case a tough one?"
He covered his discomfort with the topic by focusing on his hat as he placed it on the counter. "Which case?"
"The one you and Vic were working on this weekend."
He'd forgotten about stopping by the Busy Bee on Saturday morning. "Right. That case." His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. 8:47. Everyone was likely already in the office. He redirected his eyes back to the cafe owner. "It was a tough weekend." He didn't expand on his statement, not wanting it to slip that he was not talking about a case.
Dorothy, used to his tightlipped-ness, placed the mug in her hand before him and began to fill it. "What else can I get you?"
Could he order a dose or courage? And not the liquid kind, although that might be needed as well. He meant the kind the cowardly lion asked the wizard for. Walt looked down at the steaming dark liquid before him. "One of these for everyone in the office. Their usual orders."
Dorothy turned and pulled a handful of to-go cups from the stack, and used a pen to write a name on each of them. Placing them on the counter, she picked up the pot again and began pouring. "Did you at least make some progress on the case?"
As she asked her question, she looked up at him curiously. Walt watched her over the rim of his cup, marveling at how well she poured without looking.
"We...we kind of stalled." He took another sip, the liquid almost scalding as it went down. "Maybe even took a few steps back." Again, he was not referring to a case, and hoped she wouldn't probe further. There was a reason 'busy' was in the name of Dorothy's restaurant. She knew far too much about him and the rest of the town as it was.
As Dorothy looked back down at the cups between them on the counter, he wondered, not for the first time, if she loved what she did. Pouring coffee for the folks of Durant. Asking them about their day. Was that why she'd done it for as long as she had? Or did she keep doing it because it was what she'd always done, and she didn't think she could do anything else? He bowed his head and wondered the same thing about himself.
Dorothy topped off the four cups with the appropriate amounts of milk and sugar, and then placed lids on them all. She loaded them into a tray, and then looked up at Walt. "You going to finish that here, or do you want me to make a cup for you as well?"
Reluctantly Walt pushed the mug toward her. She poured the coffee from his mug into a paper cup, and then topped it off with the pot she'd picked back up, before placing a lid on it and sliding it back across the counter.
"Thanks." He should have said more. Asked her about her weekend. About what got her up in the morning.
But it wasn't in him today.
Walt rose from the stool, placing his hat on his head as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He pulled out some cash, and placed it on the counter as he watched Dorothy step down to take the order of a patron who had taken a seat two stools to Walt's right.
Picking up the tray of coffees as he slid his wallet back into his pocket, Walt again glanced up at the clock on the wall. 8:54. He was going to need to make his way over to the office, but he looked enviously over at one of the booths, and again thought about hiding out for a couple hours.
Holding the tray in his left hand and picking up his cup with his right, Walt headed for the door, and nodded at the customer who had just arrived and held it open for him.
"Morning."
"Morning."
He stepped out on to the sidewalk, relieved to find that it had not started raining yet. The wind pulled at the brim of his hat, and he briefly wondered how well he had secured it when he had placed it on his head. Hoping his hat wouldn't follow the path of the newspaper he noticed sliding down the sidewalk, Walt ducked his head into the wind.
At the familiar whine, he looked up. "Sorry, fella. Can't pet you this time." He raised his hands and showed the dog the coffee cups in case there was any doubt. The dog's eyes stayed on him as he rested his cup on the roof of the Bronco and opened his door. He hoped the owner of the grey Chevy remembered the German Shepard was in the back of the truck when the rain started. Maybe he wasn't so envious of the dog after all. Picking up his cup, he gave a final nod to the dog before climbing in.
As he lowered himself down into a seated position, he placed his cup in the left cup-holder and then leaned over and placed the tray of coffees in the center of Vic's seat.
He paused.
Vic's seat.
When had he come to think of it as that?
He felt his chest tighten, and looked away from the seat and out the windshield.
He could picture her sitting beside him. Wearing her aviators, her booted feet propped up on the dashboard. Focusing on the screen of her cell phone as she looked up information that would prove her point. Venting about the lack of music options on his static-filled radio. Bugging him to change his mind when he was being obstinate, or in her words, an ass. Staring back at him with those dark brown eyes that always had him opening up despite any initial reluctance.
Vic's seat.
In forty years of friendship, he hadn't thought of it as Henry's. In almost thirty years of being a father he hadn't considered it Cady's. In over twenty-five years of marriage, Martha had driven her car far more often than she'd ever sat in his. And in fifteen years of being the Sheriff, no other deputy had frequented the seat as much as Vic.
Vic's seat.
Again his chest tightened as he thought about the possibility that Vic might not want to drive with him as much. Or at all. Given what had happened between them that weekend.
He remembered Vic sitting in that seat on Friday night, trying to convince him to go out for coffee instead of taking her straight home. He didn't need much convincing.
He remembered pulling up in front of the cabin, and turning to glance at her in the near dark as his heartbeat quickened.
And he remembered the tension between them as she sat in that seat while he drove her to her truck the next morning.
He looked back at the seat. At the tray of coffees. Had he bought them as a peace offering? An olive branch? Masked as a Monday morning pick-me-up for the whole team?
Why can't you go after what you actually want for a change?
He brought his left hand to the back of his neck. He thought again of the cowardly lion, and that dose of courage he needed. After a moment he dropped his hand and shook his head, trying to dislodge Vic's words from his mind.
Walt closed his door, moved the column shift into drive, and pulled on to Main Street, eyeing the coffee cups to ensure the tray was secure.
Turning the corner, the front of the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department came into view. Walt's eyes slid to the empty parking spots out front. As he pulled into his spot he wondered briefly at the absence of all three of his deputies. He looked at his watch. 9:01. They should all be in by now. If they were out responding to a situation, why hadn't he been contacted? Had he missed a call from Ruby?
Walt pulled the handle, turned back to pick up both his coffee and the tray, and then stepped out of the truck, shutting the door with his hip.
Halfway across the street he realized he was going to need to do a bit of a balancing act to open the front door. He was in the process of trying to figure out how to best hold everything with only one hand when the sound of a vehicle drew his attention.
He turned to see Vic pulling into her spot, followed closely behind by Ferg.
In the brief moments he had before the two exited their vehicles, Walt looked back at the door to the building. He was still on the road, just before the sidewalk, his hands full with the coffee cups he was carrying. There was no escape.
He heard a car door close behind him. Closing his eyes, he pictured that booth at the Busy Bee he should have taken refuge in, and then turned around.
Vic was out of her truck, standing beside Ferg's open door, and the two were conversing quietly.
He heard Vic's final words even though her head was bent. "You've got to be shitting me."
He saw her straighten and then start walking towards him. He flipped through potential greetings in his head as she approached.
"Vic, I uh...I brought coffee."
Vic didn't pause or even acknowledge him standing in the road as she breezed past him. The door had shut behind her before Walt remembered he needed to breathe.
Just as he was about to turn back toward Ferg, the front door opened, and Vic reappeared.
His heart leapt in his chest.
She strode up to him, focused on the tray in his hands. She reached out and took the coffee that bore her name, and then paused, raising her eyes as both hands gripped the cup. The wind was whipping her ponytail around, and a few strands had come loose in front of her eyes. Looking at him over the rim, she silently took a sip. He gulped and took a step forward.
"Vic..."
She blinked and then turned on her heels and disappeared behind the front door again.
"Don't take it personally, Sheriff. She's been like that all morning."
He hadn't noticed that Ferg had reached his side.
"Like what?"
"Grouchy."
Walt looked up at the second floor window that was next to Vic's desk.
"Did she say what was bothering her?" He already knew the answer, but felt he needed to ask since he wasn't supposed to know.
"No, she's kept mostly to herself so far this morning."
Walt dropped his gaze to the street.
"Is one of those for me?"
Surprised, Walt looked up, and then realized that Ferg was talking about the coffees.
"Yep." He held out the tray for the deputy to grab his cup.
"Thanks."
Walt placed his cup in one of the empty spots in the tray and then made his way to the front door. He held it open for Ferg and then followed him up the stairs.
"You two out responding to a call?"
"Yes. You haven't talked to Ruby yet?"
"Ruby? No. Why? What's up? Where's Branch?"
"Branch? I don't know. He wasn't in when we left." Ferg had reached the top of the stairs and turned and waited for Walt. "The Exxon on 16 was robbed early this morning. Vic and I went out to process the scene."
"What did you find?"
"Not much. Their surveillance cameras haven't been working for months, so there's no video. The guy wore a mask, and the cashier didn't recognize the voice or remember much about his clothing. And he didn't see what kind of car the guy was driving. There were no other customers at the time, so there are no witnesses. There were too many fingerprints to isolate anything specific, but the cashier thinks the guy was wearing gloves, so it probably doesn't matter."
"Anyone get hurt?"
"No. The guy had a gun, but didn't shoot it."
Ferg opened the door to the office.
"Walter."
Walt stepped forward and handed Ruby her coffee. "Morning." He glanced over at Vic, but she was on the phone. "Ferg told me that one of the gas stations in town was robbed."
"Yes. Luckily Vic and Ferg were in bright and early so I didn't need to disturb you." So he hadn't missed her call.
"Where's Branch?"
"There was an alarm going off at Ace Hardware a little while ago, so Branch went to go check it out."
Walt glanced at Vic again, but she was still on the phone ignoring their conversation. He wondered if it was an actual call or if she was using it as a tactic to avoid him.
He turned back toward Ruby.
"Walter, you're looking rather run down this morning."
"So I've been told."
Ruby's eyes stayed on his. "You need to take better care of yourself."
He heard Vic hang up the phone.
"I'm fine Ruby. Just tired. It'll wear off."
Ruby made a face that he chose to ignore.
He walked over to the coat rack and hung up his jacket and hat. He paused a moment before turning toward the swinging door.
"Wait, Walter. I have your messages."
He turned to find Ruby and her post-its waiting.
He half-listened as he covertly tried to watch Vic out of the corner of his eye.
"Tom Haskill called."
The sheriff up in Sheridan. He focused back on Ruby. "Did he say why he called?"
She looked up. "No. He just said that he wants you to call him back when you get in."
Walt nodded as he snuck another look to his left.
"Doctor Weston called to say you can stop by at any time and he'll walk you through his findings."
"Ok."
"Cady called to remind you of your dinner on Wednesday. She said she'll call you again tomorrow so you can't possibly forget."
Eyes back on Ruby, Walt shook his head. "I told her I wouldn't when she called to remind me yesterday."
Ruby smiled before pulling out the last post-it. "Theresa called again. Did I tell you she called here last week?"
"She left a message at the cabin on Friday."
"You should call her back Walter."
"I will."
Ruby handed him the post-its before returning to the other side of her desk.
Walt stared at the pieces of paper in his hand before lifting his head. He turned to find Vic staring at her computer screen. If she'd overheard any part of his and Ruby's conversation, she didn't acknowledge it.
"Thanks for the coffee, Walter. A pleasant surprise."
Walt looked over his shoulder and smiled in Ruby's direction before turning and pushing the swinging door. He ran his hand over his hair as he stepped through.
Vic didn't look up as he walked over to Branch's desk and placed the coffee cup he'd picked up for him near his phone. He paused, listening to the sound of Vic typing on her keyboard as she continued to ignore him. He finally lifted his head and made his way to his office, once again experiencing a tightness in his chest. Upon entering his office, he strode over to his chair, but didn't sit down. He picked up his phone, but after listening to the dial tone for a moment he hung back up.
He stepped closer to the couch and saw the light splatter of rain on the window. He pictured the booth waiting for him at the Bee. He pictured a wet dog whining from the back of a truck. He pictured Vic standing with her back to her truck's driver-side door, looking back at him expectantly while he stood with his back against the Bronco.
Do you want something more with me?
He bowed his head and cupped his neck with his hand. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to get the tightness in his chest to ease. After a couple minutes had passed he looked back out the window.
"Vic." He called out her name, breaking the silence. There was no taking it back as her name hung in the air. After a moment he heard her push her chair back and the sound of her boots crossing the floor. Turning, he found her standing, arms crossed, in his doorway.
"Come in and close the door."
"I think right here is fine."
Walt stared back at her.
"You going to tell me about the case this morning?"
"I thought Ferg apprised you of the situation."
"He did. I want to hear your re-cap."
Vic's jaw clenched, but she stepped into the room, and after a moment of hesitation, sat down in one the chairs in front of his desk. Walt briefly looked at his own chair, but decided against it. He also dismissed staying standing, and found himself stepping up to the door and closing it, and then pulling out the chair next to her. They both sat staring at the wall on the other side of the room.
"It was an eighteen year old kid working the register. Second week on the job. He said the guy approached him from behind so he didn't get a good look at him. He forced the kid to get down on the floor and duct taped his wrists and ankles. The kid managed to get loose after the guy left, but he was nervous about reporting the robbery, so he didn't call it in right away. An hour before the end of his shift he changed his mind and called us."
Her forearms resting on her thighs, Vic looked down at her clasped hands.
"The kid was practically shaking in his boots. He'd never seen a real gun that close. He was so scared he couldn't remember anything else but that gun aimed at him. Couldn't remember any helpful details, and with the robbery happening so early, there were no other witnesses."
She slumped a little further forward.
"We basically have nothing to go on unless that kid remembers something. I took pictures both inside and outside, but there's not really anything there. At least nothing obvious. I'm going through the pictures on my laptop now. I told the kid I'd stop by tomorrow to see if he can come up with anything. The guy ordered the cashier down on the ground after he taped him up, so there probably wasn't much he could have seen given that angle, even if he wasn't so scared, but I'll try to see if he can remember the type of shoes the guy was wearing, or what the cuff of his pants looked like. Or maybe the guy dropped something. But I'm not betting on it."
She lifted her head but didn't look over at him.
"You should have called me."
"I told Ruby not to call you."
He turned toward her, but said nothing.
"I knew we could handle it."
Silence.
"Plus, you needed the extra sleep. Ruby was being kind when she said you look run down this morning. You look like shit."
So she had been listening.
"You could have called. I wasn't sleeping."
Vic leaned back in her seat, but still kept her eyes on her lap. "I wasn't either. It's why I came into the office so early."
The rain bore down harder against the glass as the two sat silently, each looking down at their hands.
So, where does that leave us?
Vic's words from Saturday morning had been rattling around his thoughts for two days.
"I'm not going to pursue you, Walt. If you don't want there to be anything...personal...between us, then we won't go there. And if you do, then you're going to need to make the next move."
Walt looked up, and found her eyes on his for the first time since they had sat down. With a look that made him forget about hiding out in booths, or driving off into the distance.
"And I think..." She paused as her voice wavered. "I think that if you don't want something...more. Or if you still don't know what you want...I...I think that maybe I shouldn't drive around with you as much."
There it was. The punch in his gut he'd been dreading. Vic not wanting the seat in his truck to be her seat.
There was a knock on the door. Vic blinked and then looked away. Walt stood as Ruby popped her head in the room.
"Walter, Dorothy's on the line. She wants to talk to you."
He glanced down at Vic. "Ok."
Vic ran both hands along her thighs and then stood. Without a glance back at him, she followed Ruby out of his office.
He walked to the other side of the desk, pausing to catch the breath he hadn't realized he'd lost. Finally he picked up the phone and sat down, forcing some lightness into his greeting.
"Did I not leave enough tip this morning?"
"You don't need to tip the owner."
"I've been tipping you all these years, and you only tell me this now?"
"I'm calling about that guy." Right down to business. She must be busy.
"What guy?"
"That guy who parked his grey truck in front of my place, with the dog."
"Oh. That guy. What did you learn?"
"He lives up in Sheridan. The dog belongs to his girlfriend. He's allergic to dogs, so when he has the dog, he has him ride in the back of the truck."
"Did you talk to him about how risky that is for the dog? The speed limit is 80 in some stretches. I don't think his girlfriend would be all that happy to learn her dog went flying out of his truck when he had to break suddenly."
Why was he so concerned for this dog that he'd only encountered for the first time today? Was he equating the risk and uncertainty of his own current situation to being driven around unrestrained in the back of a truck?
"I told him."
"Did you get through to him?"
"I don't think you tipped me enough to guarantee that."
"I thought I wasn't supposed to tip you."
Dorothy laughed.
"Well, thanks for trying. And for calling."
"You're welcome. I'll see you the next time you're in. I hear you've got a couple robberies you're dealing with, so I'll let you go."
"Wait. A couple?" But the line was already dead.
"Ruby!" Walt stepped out of his office and found Vic and Ferg putting on their coats. "What's going on?"
Vic looked up. "Branch just called. Another gas station has been hit." She headed for the door with Ferg at her heels.
Walt headed for the coat rack. "Which gas station was it?"
Vic stopped and looked back at him as she let Ferg pass. "Branch is already there. The three of us can handle it. We'll call if anything changes." She continued toward the door. At the entryway she turned, holding his eyes for a moment.
And then she was gone.