I tuck the address into my back pocket. “Any idea how she and Sheriff Thomas are connected?”
Luke shoves his hands in his pockets. “Six years ago, she tried to enter the US from Canada with a fake passport.”
“And Thomas was the one who caught her?”
“That’s the thing. There’s no arrest. Just a red flag. Almost like they let her go, but that doesn’t make any sense. Use of a fake US passport is serious business. She would have been sent to a detention facility. Faced jail time and a hefty fine.”
“Thomas worked at the border during that time,” I say.
Kaz combs down his beard with his fingertips. “He could have been the one to bust her. Maybe he made her some kind of deal. Cut her loose in exchange for a few favors.”
My empty stomach flips, and I force out a grounding exhale at the ceiling tiles. “Sounds like a dead end.”
Kaz gives me a rueful nod.
Luke turns to me. “As for your kid CJ, he’s clean. Not that he’d get hired in law enforcement with a record, but you can rest easy.”
Guilt chews at my already frayed nerves. Asking for this intel was wrong. Dishonest. And Luke’s right—if CJ had some kind of record, he would be disqualified from ever working in law enforcement. I owe the kid an apology.
In fact, I owe him a few.
“One more thing,” Luke continues. “He was selected for a CO position once before. A couple of years ago. But he took a leave of absence right before he was due to begin training.”
I cock my head. “Do you know why?”
Luke shrugs. “Maybe it’s about Molly? The timing fits. Or he had some sort of medical issue, his own or a family member’s.”
Scott Shay seems to know the answer. And he’s holding it over CJ like some kind of flex. Typical Scott, being his typical asshole self. Maybe it’s time I did something about it.
After shaking hands with Luke and Kaz, I head for the door.
Outside, the mid-morning mist has turned to a steady rain, and I turn up my collar before sprinting to my truck, startling a sleepy Bruneau.
I slip out my phone and dial Keo’s number. She answers on the second ring, tension and wariness in her tone.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” My tone comes out heavy, but it can’t be helped. “Can we talk later?” I don’t want to interrupt her if she’s painting, plus I have a full day of problems ahead of me.
She hesitates long enough to make my stomach pitch. “You want to stop by tonight? I could make?—”
“I’ll bring something,” I interrupt, then run a hand through my damp hair. She’s always cooking for me. It’s time I return the favor.
“Okay,” she replies.
I should say more, but I don’t want to start this conversation on the phone. It’s too important to me for that.
We say goodbye, and I toss my phone into the console.
I spend the afternoon tracking down a new lead on our BaldEagle poacher case while the spring rain blurs the landscape, then my day runs long thanks to a bogus call about a wolf that turns out to be someone’s stray husky. I’m in my truck finishing up paperwork in the thickening twilight, Bruneau snoring softly in the passenger seat, when my phone buzzes from the console.
It’s CJ.
The drug test results aren’t due back until Tuesday afternoon, but maybe they’re ready early, and CJ wants to tell me himself. Or maybe he’s found out I betrayed him by asking Luke to look into his past and wants to chew me out. Or this is about Linnea and how he’s been lying to me. We’re supposed to be partners, damn it.
“Have you heard from Linnea?”
Startled by his rushed tone, I frown at my rain-slicked windows, but there’s no view now thanks to the quickly falling darkness. “No. Should I have?”