The Birthday List(90)

An hour after I’d left the restaurant with Belle, we were back.

Belle’s meager belongings were in Jamie’s truck. She’d called her grandmother to announce her pregnancy and confirm she was still welcome in Oregon—which she was. And she’d left a note for her dad, something she didn’t expect he’d see—or care about—until she was long gone.

So while Belle was inside the restaurant using the bathroom before her journey, I was sitting in the driver’s seat of Jamie’s truck, staring at the picture I’d pulled out of the visor.

“It’s not exactly buying a stranger a car, but I think you’d be okay with it.” I touched his face. “You’ve watched over me for long enough. Look out for her instead, okay?”

His frozen smile was all the answer I needed.

I pressed a kiss to my fingers, then to the photo, before tucking it back into the visor so it could be with Belle as she drove to Oregon. Leaving the truck running, I grabbed my purse and went inside. Then I walked straight to the office safe, where I pulled out all of the cash Molly had planned to take to the bank tomorrow.

“All set?” I asked Belle as she came back to the kitchen. She had the takeout bag Helen had made her looped over one wrist.

“Are you sure I can borrow your truck? I don’t know how I’ll get it back here.”

I smiled. “You aren’t borrowing that truck, Belle. It’s yours.”

“No, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. That was my husband’s truck, and he’d want you to have it. No arguments. Just promise me to drive safe. Find somewhere to stay tonight before you get too tired.” I handed over the wad of cash. “Here. For your trip.”

She stared at it with wide eyes, probably never having seen that much money before.

“When you get settled, you’ll need to send me your new address so I can transfer the title of the truck to your name. Okay?”

She was still staring at the money.

“Belle? I’ll need your address, okay?”

Her eyes snapped to mine and she nodded wildly. “Okay.”

“Good. Now you’d better get on the road if you want to make it to Missoula before it gets too late.”

Tears flooded her eyes as she took the money and tucked it into her coat pocket. “Thank you.”

I stepped up and wiped a tear from her face. A face so young, but so brave. “Keep in touch.”

She fell into my arms, hugging me so tight with her thin arms I could barely breathe.

“Drive safe.”

She nodded against my chest, then let me go, waving as she disappeared through the back door.

Keep her safe, Jamie. Get her to Oregon.

I wasn’t sure if sending a sixteen-year-old on a twelve-hour road trip was smart, but it was better than the alternative. And I had faith that once Belle got to Oregon, her grandmother would see her through.

Until then, she had Jamie.

I ignored the burn in my throat and took a settling breath just as Helen came bursting through the kitchen door. I spun around to see her arms full of dirty dishes and stress written all over her face.

“I’ve got the counter. You take a quick break.” I came unstuck, smiling as she sighed and went back to work.

Not long after the dinner rush subsided, Cole came into the restaurant with a manila folder under his arm. He came behind the counter for a kiss, then set the folder on the counter.

“What’s this?” I flipped open the file. A school picture of Belle was the only thing inside.

“This is the cashier’s daughter.”

I stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the picture. At the bottom, written with a Sharpie, was her full name. Tuesday Belle Hastings.

Tuesday.

Belle had given me her middle name instead of her first. Had she told me Tuesday, I would have remembered her name from the newspaper articles about the murder. I’d memorized those articles—the ones printed alongside Jamie and Kennedy’s obituaries.

“What are the chances?” I muttered. Coincidences. They really were our thing.

“What?” Cole asked.

I shut the folder. “You’re never going to believe what I did this afternoon.”





“You’re shitting me,” Matt said, sitting on the edge of my desk.

“How fucking crazy is that?”

Matt shook his head, letting everything I told him sink in. “Holy fucking shit.”

Holy fucking shit. Those had been my exact words to Poppy last night.

I was sick over what had happened to Tuesday Hastings. Her dad, Aaron Denison, was a meth junkie. His name was on the drug task force’s watch list, but since he wasn’t a major player, we hadn’t brought him in. Instead, we’d been spending our time going after dealers like Aaron’s friend, Tommy Bennett.

Tommy was one sick fucker. His specialty was getting young kids hooked so they’d help him sell drugs to their naïve friends, but unfortunately, we’d been having hell proving it. We hadn’t even been able to bring him in for using—as far as we knew, he never touched the products he was selling. He got off on selling drugs to ruin the lives of others.

I cringed, thinking about the kind of pleasure he’d taken from Tuesday. And here Poppy had inadvertently gifted Jamie’s truck to Tuesday. Kennedy Hastings’s daughter. “We’ve got to get guys like Aaron and Tommy off the streets.”