Indigo ridge the edens, p.9
Indigo Ridge (The Edens), page 9
“What the fuck are you doing?” A hand clamped over my elbow and dragged me away from the edge.
I whirled around, my heart in my throat as I threw a fist toward Griffin’s nose. I managed to stop the punch before it landed, but just barely. My knuckles grazed his skin and his eyes widened that I’d moved that fast.
“Jesus, Winn.” He released my elbow. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Me? What the fuck is wrong with you? You scared the shit out of me. I could have fallen.”
“Then don’t stand so goddamn close to the edge,” he bellowed, dragging a hand through that thick hair. “Fuck. We don’t need you having an accident.”
“This should be blocked off,” I barked, pressing a hand to my thrashing heart.
“That’s what I’m doing here.” He jerked his thumb toward the trail. “I came up here to build a fence along the path and spotted your rig. Followed you up here just in time to see you leaning over the edge.”
I frowned up at his scowl. “I was just looking.”
“Look from back here.” He grabbed my arm again, hauling me back against him. “I can’t find your body down there too.”
The plea in his blue gaze, the fear in his expression, chased away any anger, and my shoulders slumped. “Okay. Sorry.”
He blew out a long breath, shaking away his frustration. “It’s all right. Why are you looking?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I know you think it was suicide. I don’t even know what to think myself, I just . . . something feels off. And I need to figure out what. For Lily. For her mother. Sometimes when I can’t make sense of something, I start at the end and work my way backward to the beginning.”
So I’d stand here until I could retrace her steps.
Which was what I did. I stood there, staring out to the nothing beyond the trail.
Griffin stood beside me, unspeaking. Unmoving. He simply stood at my side while I thought.
She’d come up here, terrified. Desperate. Likely alone.
I took one step closer to the edge.
Griffin grabbed my hand, holding it tight.
I let him be my tether as I glanced over the cliff, putting myself in Lily’s place.
She’d had a good job. She’d had loving parents. She’d had friends in Quincy. Something had pushed her over this edge.
“A broken heart?”
“What?” Griffin asked, pulling me away from the edge once more.
“Nothing,” I muttered. The autopsy was confidential, and Griffin hadn’t earned the details. “I’d like to know what Lily was doing up to the time of her death. If she’d been hanging out with friends. A boyfriend. Where would someone her age hang out on a Sunday night?”
“Willie’s,” he answered.
“Would you have noticed her if she’d come in?”
“You and I were the only people there.”
“Anywhere else?”
He rubbed that strong jaw. “The bars downtown. The younger crowd usually hangs there in the summers with the tourists. And you’re in luck.”
“Am I? Why?”
He took my arm, tugging me yet another step away from the cliff. “I was just thinking about heading downtown myself.”
“Oh, were you?” I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you were going to put up a fence on this trail.”
“Change of plan.”
Chapter Eight
Griffin
“You don’t need to come with me.” Winn paused outside Big Sam’s Saloon. “Aren’t you busy?”
Yes, I was busy. But I grabbed the door’s handle and opened it for her anyway. “After you.”
She frowned but walked inside, then I was forgotten as she soaked in every detail, from the wagon-wheel chandeliers to the seams in the wood-paneled walls.
The owners had done a major remodel about ten years ago. They’d moved to Quincy from Texas and the longhorns they’d brought along were hanging behind the bar. The tables were whiskey barrels with glass tops. The stools were upholstered in black and white cowhide.
They were playing up the Western theme for the tourists, and country music crooned from the jukebox in the corner.
I loathed Big Sam’s.
“It’s packed,” she said, scanning the room.
“Most days are in the summer.”
A few familiar faces jumped out from the crowd, and as we walked to the bar, I lifted a hand to wave at one of the guys who worked at the hardware store.
I jerked my chin to the bartender as he came over, his bald head catching the glare from the light that reflected off the mirrored liquor shelves. “Hey, John.”
“Griffin.” He reached over the bar to shake my hand. John had trimmed his white beard since the last time I’d stopped in about a month ago. It brushed against his heart instead of his protruding beer belly. “What brings you in?”
I nodded to Winn. “John, this is Winslow Covington.”
“The new chief.” He held his hand out to Winn. “Welcome to Quincy.”
“Thanks.” She shook his hand, then slid onto a stool. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Depends on the questions.”
I took the seat beside her, and before she could launch into her questions, I ordered a beer. “Bud Light for me, John. Vodka tonic for the chief.”
“I’m on duty,” she muttered as he walked away.
“Then don’t drink it.”
She shot me that stern frown again. It, like everything else with this woman, was frustratingly sexy. “This is quite the place.”
“It used to be one of the Eden family businesses. My great-uncle was Big Sam.” The new owners hadn’t changed the name, probably because it went with their cheesy theme, but that was about the only thing left from the bar it had once been.
“Used to be?”
“Sam was more about the drinking than he was about running a business. He sold it to the current owners before it went under.”
“Ah. Is John one of the owners?”
“No, the manager. But if Lily was here Sunday night, he’s your best bet at getting information. He works most weekends.”
“Can’t I just ask him? Why did you order us a drink?”
I leaned in closer, my shoulder brushing hers. “Bartenders in small towns always know what’s going on. They hear the gossip. They see the excitement. But they also protect their own. John’s a good guy but he doesn’t know you, and he doesn’t trust outsiders.”
She gritted her teeth. “Do you have to keep calling me that?”
“It’s what you are. Want to fit in? Sit here with me. Order a drink. Leave him a decent tip. You want to stop being an outsider, then get to know the community.”
“Fine.” She sighed as John returned with our drinks. “Thank you.”
He nodded as she lifted the glass to her lips, sending me a glare over the rim.
I grinned and sipped my beer.
“So what are these questions?” John asked, leaning a hip against the bar.
“I’m trying to learn more about Lily Green. She was—”
“I know who she was.”
Winn stiffened at his sharp tone. “Do you remember seeing her here on Saturday or Sunday night?”
“No, she wasn’t here.”
“Did she come in often? Her mother said that since she turned twenty-one, she came to the bars often on the weekends.”
John shrugged. “No more than any of the other kids around here. They come down. Have a few drinks and play pool. Mix with the tourists.”
“Was there anyone in particular you saw Lily with more than once?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Her regular group of friends.”
Who Winslow would have known had she been from here. It was a dig on John’s part. He could have just as easily rattled off the list of friends’ names.
But he didn’t need to. Because Winn did it for him.
“Frannie Jones. Sarina Miles. Conor Himmel. Henry Jacks. Bailey Kennedy. Clarissa Fitzgerald. Those friends?”
I took a drink to hide my smile as the smug expression vanished from John’s face.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Did you notice Lily with anyone else?” she asked. “Like a boyfriend?”
“No. She wasn’t that sort of girl. She’d come down, have a drink or two. Always responsible about calling a cab or catching a ride with a designated driver. I can’t think of a time when she left here with a guy.”
A crease formed between Winn’s eyebrows, like she was disappointed in that answer. What was she after? Conor would know if Lily had been seeing someone. So would Melina.
“Anything else?” John asked. “I need to check on the other tables.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate the help and it was nice to meet you.”
“Same.” John tapped on the bar, then left to take another order.
“What are you after?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Like I said on the ridge, I just want to retrace her steps and figure out what she was doing before she died. But sounds like she wasn’t here.”
“John would know.”
Winslow took another drink, then dug through her pocket, pulling out a twenty. “Bye, Griffin.”
She slapped the cash on the bar and headed for the door.
I ditched my beer and followed, catching up to her before she’d even stepped outside. “Let’s head to the Old Mill. Maybe she went there.”
“I don’t need an escort,” she said but fell in step beside me down the sidewalk.
“The two bars on Main bookend the touristy section of Quincy.” The Eloise Inn was almost exactly in the middle. “Want to know why?”
“Because there’s an ordinance that requires at least four hundred yards between any establishments with a liquor license.”
I grinned at the sassy smirk on her pretty mouth. “You’ve done some research.”
“No, I’ve just been here many, many times. Pops has lived here his entire adult life and loves to tell stories. I know a lot about Quincy. Even if I don’t know the people yet. Even if I’m an outsider.”
Oh, did she hate that word. I guess in her shoes, I’d hate it too.
“The ordinance was my great-great-grandmother’s idea,” I told her as we made our way across those four hundred yards toward the Old Mill. “My great-great-grandfather founded Quincy. Our family has lived here ever since. The running joke in town is that you can’t throw a rock without hitting an Eden.”
With aunts, uncles and cousins, I had countless relatives living in town. My parents had taken the unofficial helm of the family. Most of the businesses that had been started by my great-great-grandfather and his descendants had funneled down to my grandfather. He’d then passed them to my father.
Some of my other relatives were entrepreneurs in town, but for the most part, my parents, my siblings, or I owned and operated most of the businesses with the Eden name.
“Old Mill was the first bar in Quincy,” I said. “Started shortly after the town was founded. The story goes that my great-great-grandmother allowed my great-great-grandfather to open the bar but only if the bartender was employed by her. That way, she could set the rules.”
“The rules? Like how many drinks he could have?”
I nodded. “And how late to serve him. But she was worried that someone else would come in and open another bar. According to family rumor, she was a fairly shrewd businesswoman herself, so she suggested the ordinance, and since the Edens were pretty much in charge at the time . . .”
“It passed.”
“Exactly. The town was only two blocks at that time. She figured it would take a hundred years for it to double in size. A four-hundred-yard radius not only gave her control of the alcohol in town, but control over her husband’s drinking habits.”
Winn smiled. “And it hasn’t changed.”
“Nope. The town grew but that ordinance stuck around.”
“Which makes sense why Willie’s isn’t on Main.”
“It’s not long enough, so they established it five blocks off Main and it became the locals’ hangout.”
And the place where I’d never expected to meet this intriguing creation.
We passed two men, tourists based on their polo shirts, jeans and unscuffed boots. They both looked Winn up and down. It wasn’t subtle and her mouth pressed into a line as she ignored them, her eyes aimed forward.
Brave men, not only because she was wearing a gun, but because I was a possessive bastard. With one glare from me, they each dropped their eyes to the sidewalk.
That would always be a problem with Winn.
She was too beautiful. You didn’t expect to see a woman so stunning walking down the streets of Quincy. Her hair was down today, straight and long as it draped down her spine. Without sunglasses to shield her eyes, those blue irises sparkled beneath the afternoon sun.
We reached an intersection and she checked both ways before crossing the street and marching to the bar. Her shoulders were square and her serious face in place as she opened the door.
Old Mill wasn’t the over-the-top scene that was Big Sam’s. It was more of a sports bar, and if I wasn’t up for Willie’s, I came here to catch a game and have a drink. Flat screens were mounted between neon beer signs. Three keno machines hugged the wall just inside the door. Above them hung a framed Quincy Cowboys jersey. Two different baseball games were playing tonight, the announcers’ voices muted through the bar’s sound system.
“Does your family still own this place?” she asked as we walked toward the bar.
“Not anymore. My parents sold it to Chris when I was a kid.”
“Who’s Chris?”
I pointed to the bartender.
“Is there another ordinance in Quincy requiring all bartenders to have bushy white beards?”
“Not that I know of.” I chuckled and pulled out a stool for her at the bar before taking my own. “Hey, Chris.”
“Griff.” He nodded to me, then held his hand out to Winn. “You’re Covie’s granddaughter, right?”
“I am.” She fit her delicate hand into his meaty grip. “Winslow. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. What brings you two in?”
“Winn’s got a few questions for you. But how about a beer first? Whatever’s on tap. Surprise us.”
“You got it.” Chris wouldn’t be gruff like John—who, compared to Willie, was as welcoming as a doormat. Of the regular three bartenders in town, Chris was the nicest guy.
Winn didn’t need me here, but I was having a hard time walking away.
Her questions for Chris were the same ones she’d asked John.
Was Lily here on Saturday or Sunday? Do you remember seeing her with the same guy more than once? Did she have a boyfriend?
Chris’s answers were the same as we’d gotten at Big Sam’s. Neither of us finished our beers, and when she went to pay, I beat her to it. With a wave goodbye to Chris, we retreated to our vehicles on the opposite end of Main.
“You talked to all of Lily’s friends, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I did. I hoped that one of them might have noticed something wrong. But they were all as shocked as Melina.”
“Conor’s broken up about it. I think he might have had feelings for her.”
“Really?”
“I don’t think she returned those feelings. He got shoved into the friend zone a long time ago.”
“Hmm.” Her shoulders fell.
“You think she had a boyfriend, don’t you?”
She stayed quiet.
That was a yes. Maybe Lily had hooked up with the mystery guy before she died. But who? Now my own curiosity was racing down the block. If Lily had been seeing someone, Conor would have known about it. Unless Lily had hidden a relationship to spare his feelings.
“Maybe she was sleeping with someone who worked at the bank with her,” I said.
“I never said she was sleeping with anyone.”
I gave Winn a knowing look. “You didn’t have to.”
“Why did you come to town with me?” She crossed her arms. “You told me to back off. You told me to drop this, remember?”
“I remember. But for Melina’s sake, for Conor’s, I respect that you’re trying to give them more of an explanation.”
“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bye, Griffin.”
Before she could climb into her SUV and disappear, I walked to the passenger side of her Durango.
“What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes through the window.
“Might as well drive together to Willie’s.”
“How did you know I was going to Willie’s?”
I chuckled. “Do you want me to drive instead?”
“No.” She huffed but unlocked the doors.
The five blocks to Willie’s was too short. The inside of her car reminded me of her bed. The moment we pulled into the parking lot, the temperature in the cab spiked. Attraction crackled between us like a spark.
Would I ever come to Willie’s and not picture her in my truck? Probably not.
Winslow parked and was out of the car so fast she practically jogged to the door. Her cheeks were flushed when I caught up.
“Shuffleboard?” I nudged her elbow as I opened the door.
“No.” That pretty flush deepened. “I’m here on official business. And you said it yourself this morning. Not a good thing to repeat. You’re a busy man.”
I said a lot of stupid things.
“Griff.” Willie stood behind the bar, his scowl fixed firmly in place as we walked in.
“Hi, Willie.” Winn didn’t bother taking a seat, and what I’d told her about making nice at the other bars had been forgotten. Or maybe she knew ordering a drink and making pleasantries with Willie would be a waste of time. She launched into her questions about Lily, and when she received a series of grunted nos, she thanked him for his time.
Winn turned, ready to leave, when the door opened and a familiar face walked into the bar.
“Harrison.” My uncle Briggs walked over, his hand extended. “What’s going on, brother? I didn’t know you were coming into town tonight.”
Fuck. My stomach dropped.
