Page 63 of Waiting in Wyoming
“I’ll just start with their names and license numbers,” Sage said, pulling out her phone.
“Why?” Meyra was beyond confused here. Why did Sage care about a guest Meyra had seen in Finley Creek?
“Mey, the people who hurt Brandt’s family, they have ties to Finley Creek. And they’ve been using trucks to move those drugs between here and there. I’m going to be safe rather than sorry. Just in case this Mr. King knows more than we think,” Sage said, rocking the baby before passing her to Dylan. “I’m going to callMiranda. See what she can find on these names. Off the record, and everything.”
Meyra just nodded. Sage had that look that Miranda got, too.
Well, they could do what they did best. Find bad guys. Meyra was going to go upstairs and find her man. Then she had to be in the dining room by five a.m.
It was time to get back to her routine. And figure out just how Brandt Barratt was going to change her world completely.
Because Meyra had realized something, watching him tell his sister goodbye and that he loved her. Watching him hug her so close like that.
Meyra lovedhim.
Just as much as Dusty loved Ben. As much as her father loved Rhea. And now she had to figure out what she wanted to do about it. And what kind of changes it would mean for her life now.
Anew normal.She liked that.
53
Sonny hadthe bag of baby laundry in his hands and had just crossed the road when it happened.
The crash.
It was on the highway, right there, not even fifteen feet from where he stood.
He barely got out of the way in time.
The bag of laundry and his own duffel bag of clean clothes went in two different directions. Sonny ended up on his ass in the snowbank. As the four-by-four pickup ended up going over the damned sidewalk and hitting a light pole. The car that had almost hit him just took off.
Like the dumbass driving didn’t care that he could have killed someone.
Sonny picked himself back up. To his feet. That other dude wasn’t getting out of his truck. What if he was hurt, or dead, or bloody? What was Sonny supposed to do?
Someone else came running. A guy in sweats who had been jogging in this cold shit, apparently. “You okay, man? He almost got you. Fast footwork there. Good move.”
Sonny just nodded. And followed the guy toward the truck. “I don’t know about the guy in the truck.”
“That asshole in that car didn’t even stop.” The jogger pulled open the driver’s door.
Sonny went to the other side. And looked in. “Shit. There are little kids in here.”
He yanked on the door, after the jogger hit the unlock button on the other panel.
There were two kids back there. And they were crying. Sonny looked at the first. A little boy of no more than five or six. “Hey, dude. It’s okay. It’s okay. I know it was really scary. Are you hurt? You’re safe now. We’re going to help you, okay?”
And then the kid was reaching for him. “I want my daddy.”
The jogger was helping the driver out. The driver was moving. Maybe he was just stunned or something.
Sonny helped the kids out of the truck and over to a bench. It was damned cold out there. But there were people coming out of the buildings across the street. A pizza place. Someone wrapped coats around the kids.
And then Sonny just stepped back and let the jogger take over. Sonny didn’t know what he was supposed to do in this kind of situation. He wasn’t the kind of guy who knew how to be in charge in stuff like this, to help people. To do good things or any shit like that.
When the dark-haired pretty cop from the inn came to his side, he just did what she told him to do.
“Is Katie okay?”