Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
There was only one thing that dimmed my joy in the day—one thing I couldn’t get off my mind. Cole Haywood. He’d been so talkative in the car, but I’d been scared out of my mind. I wasn’t sure I remembered every detail of the answers he’d given me, but I absolutely remembered the one he hadn’t. I’d asked him why he waited so long to kill Prentice, and it was the one question he’d completely ignored. Was it because it wasn’t important, or because it was?
It nagged at me. I hadn’t noticed the day before, more concerned with not dying in that well and the bullet graze on my arm than with really thinking about the details. Cole was in handcuffs. West had saved me. Problem solved, right?
But was it, really? Why had he waited so long to get his revenge? If Cole had killed Prentice because of Caro and their affair, wouldn’t he have done it in the madness of grief after her death and the loss of his child? Why wait?
“What?” West said, giving me a little shake. I looked over at him. His salad plate was cleared, silverware neatly lined up at an angle, face down. “You barely touched your salad.”
“I ate too many appetizers,” I admitted. “I’m saving room for turkey and stuffing.”
“But you’re stuck in your head—I can see it. What is it?”
“Haywood,” I answered.
West gave a slow nod and took my hand under the table. “Yeah. Me too.”
“What’s bugging you?” I asked.
“When I caught him in the woods, I told him I had him for kidnapping and murder, and he said I’d never make it stick.”
“How could you not make it stick?” I asked. “The kidnapping is pretty open-and-shut, right? I mean, I’m here saying he kidnapped me. You pulled me out of that well. He shot me.”
“Exactly,” West agreed. “But he’s a criminal attorney. He has to know we had him on the kidnapping. So, what does he think—”
“—you couldn’t make stick?” I finished for him.
West shook his head. “I don’t know. But he hasn’t asked for a lawyer.”
“That’s odd,” I said. Cole was a criminal attorney. He was known as one of the best around, and he knew the rest of them. He knew how important it was to have representation and that even a renowned attorney shouldn’t represent himself. “So, he’s in your jail?” I asked, the wheels in my head turning. It was over, but I still wanted answers.
“He is,” West agreed. “They haven’t moved him yet.”
We stopped talking as Savannah placed a bowl of soup in front of each of us. I’d already complained that she shouldn’t be serving the family for Thanksgiving, but she’d told me to let her do things her way, and she wouldn’t tell me how to brew beer. I’d shut up—I knew better than to argue with Savannah. When she left, West looked at me, and I could see the intention in his eyes.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “We’re going to talk to Haywood tomorrow.”
“Works for me,” I agreed.
And that was enough to let me push aside my questions for one more day.
I went to bed, sated, my stomach a little too full. My body, other than the graze on my arm, relaxed and replete. West stretched out beside me in my bed. I’d already started mentally reorganizing my suite to make space for him. The closet wouldn’t be a problem—I wasn’t the clothes horse some of my sisters were, and had plenty of room for West. I had a feeling he might want to replace my tiny flat screen in the sitting room with something bigger, maybe trade out the sofa for his. But otherwise, it wouldn’t take much to make it work.
We’d have to make time to move some of his things into storage. If he decided he wanted to turn his place into a short-term rental, he’d probably make bank. They were a hot commodity in Sawyers Bend, almost year-round. We’d have to weigh that against the wear and tear on his place, but either way, we’d make it work.
I drifted off with a smile on my face and woke with that itch in the back of my head of questions that needed answers. West was already up.
“Is the brewery closed today?” he asked.
“Kind of,” I said. “The brewery is closed, but I’m going to go open the taproom. Ford said he wanted me to teach him how to run the register and everything. He’s going to fill in until I replace Cammie.”
“Not what I would have expected,” West said, considering. “But interesting.”
“Yeah, I know. I could use the help. And now that Haywood’s locked up, Ford needs to get out of the house, so it works for me.”
“Then we better get moving,” West said. “Finn is taking the day off from cooking. Let’s go talk to Haywood, then swing by Sweetheart Bakery and grab some breakfast.”