“Ah. Sure.” Charlie’s tone was oddly flat as he tipped his head back on the headrest. “Well, I hope it works out for you. Although I should tell you, Damon’s around again.”
“The fuck he is.” A flash of headache tightened his brows. Fucking Damon Kerr. And if I end up a cop again, what do I do if he shows up while I’m on the job? He rubbed his forehead.
“Are you really surprised?”
“No.” He’d been pretty sure they’d see Lori’s criminal brother when the birth got close, but a man could hope. “You’ve seen him?”
“Not seen.” Charlie closed his eyes. “We got an envelope hand-delivered to our kitchen table while we were out. What do you think was in it?”
“Don’t play fucking games. What?”
“Relax.”
“Just tell me!”
“Jesus, you’re gonna blow a fuse.” Charlie’s lips curved up in a smirk.
Must not hit Charlie. Must not. Through gritted teeth, he repeated, “What did he send?”
“Three thousand dollars and an insurance card for Lorraine Anderson, with a note saying use only in an emergency.”
“Oh.” That made a kind of sense. Giving birth could probably get expensive. “Wait, he left it in your apartment?” It figured Damon would break and enter to deliver insurance.
“Yep, and left the door locked again behind him.”
“Maybe Lori gave him a key.”
“She says not.” Charlie sighed and some of his show of relaxed amusement faded. “She’s thrilled to hear from him. I’m not.”
“No shit.”
“But. If you’re worried about leaving Lori without Brian for a few days, at least I can safely say she’s being watched over by a brother.”
“Having Damon around is the opposite of comforting. And why wouldn’t she have Brian?”
“If he’s Finding Ariana?” Charlie opened one eye to roll it at him.
Nick focused on sticking to his lane and not blowing the speed limit to dust. “Now’s not a good time.”
“Why not?
“You want us to charge off across country and leave you with Lori about to give birth?”
“She still has a couple weeks to go. Better now than after, when we’re juggling a new baby.”
“What if she has it early?”
“Doc’s gonna be more help than you are, unless you went to medical school and didn’t tell me.”
He couldn’t explain why seeing the baby born might deeply matter to Brian. Although maybe he’d rather not be there—
Charlie added, “Why not Find Ariana now? You’re not working yet. Brian said it’s Yasmin’s slow season, until after the New Year, when the sheep will need crutches.”
“Say what?”
Charlie waved a hand. “Something like that. Crutching? Anyway, the point is you both have the time. Unless Brian’s not up to it yet, this seems like the perfect chance to set your worries to rest. Finally.”
“He still has some headaches.” They didn’t seem bad anymore, but Brian wasn’t always up-front about when he was hurting.
“And if you wait, and Ariana needed you?”
“Shut up.” He’d thought about that too, late at night when Brian was sleeping. He’d had another too-late-to-save-her nightmare, but he didn’t need Charlie rubbing it in. “What’s on your to-do list? Disability office? Job hunting, if you can find something to apply for?”
He didn’t realize how bad that sounded until Charlie said acidly, “Maybe I should look into the sheriff’s department too.”
That had to be a joke. Black humor? Or maybe not. “They might need a dispatcher. Or some kind of desk job?” He couldn’t picture Charlie in one, but better than sitting at home, right?
Charlie shuddered. “Paperwork forever? No, thank you. I’ll look around. There’s got to be a job that needs brilliance, computer skills, a stellar personality, the curiosity of a cat, and the grace of a three-legged, drunken giraffe.”
That was definitely black humor. “You left out the other good stuff.” He wanted to say warm heart and sense of honor and how Charlie took care of people, but that was too mushy. “Although I always did think you were like a cat.”
Charlie was distracted from his reply by the sight of a burned hulk of a building off across a field. The charred, broken frame was bookended by scorched trees. “That doesn’t look good.”
“I wonder if that’s the organic farm the old guy mentioned.” Nick slowed down to check the sign on the driveway. “Yeah. What a mess.” He turned in at the gate without thinking, heading down the drive.
“What are we doing?” Charlie asked.
“Just taking a look.”
“You hate looky-loos.”
“I’m trying to figure it out.” He pulled up in a gravel parking area. The burned-out building was to the left. Three intact greenhouses ranged alongside, and a house and