Hidden Summit (Virgin River #17)(87)

She knew she’d hear from him.

Conner drove around Clear Lake and up the highway toward Humboldt County. He’d been on the road for four hours. Before he headed into the mountains, he pulled off the road and placed a call to Max.

“Did you notice I’m missing?” he asked.

“Frankly, I’ve been too busy for that,” Max said. “Where are you?”

“Just about back in Virgin River,” Conner said. “Any new developments?”

“A significant one. It hasn’t been released to the press yet, so please give it a few hours before you throw your freedom party. Mathis didn’t make it out of surgery. The bullet went through his heart—impossible to repair. His lawyer will recover, his son is fine and the shooter is in custody. Randolph’s girlfriend. Or whatever. Apparently you weren’t the only one to worry he wouldn’t be convicted. And Randolph did in fact dope up Mathis’s daughter.”

“God,” Conner said, shock and relief flooding through him.

“That’s right, my man. No more trial.”

“You don’t sound that happy.”

“No, I am. There’s at least one bad guy off the streets. He looked real upstanding, but he was a bad guy, you can trust me. But what the hell,” Max said. “I wanted to get him!”

Conner actually chuckled. “You’ll get the next one.”

“Wanna bet I’ll never have a witness with a conscience and balls like yours?” Max asked.

“Nope. Don’t want to take that bet. Been fun, buddy. Good luck.” And he clicked off and got back on the road.

He might’ve driven a little fast on the road up the mountain to Virgin River. The clock on the truck console said almost five o’clock, but there was plenty of sunshine left on this day and he was so damn glad he’d made a decision to just drive. He was done with this nightmare. Right after he reassured Leslie, he’d call Katie and tell her.

When he pulled into town, it was with an entirely new appreciation for the way the sunlight sifted through the tall trees and cast late-afternoon shadows along the street. There were a few cars at Jack’s, but no throbbing music—folks would be having a quiet, friendly beer or early dinner. The streets were still; dinner was being fixed in these houses. Tomorrow was Saturday—kids would be anticipating soccer and softball.

He turned down Leslie’s street. She’d been such a rock through this. It reminded him yet again how like his sister she was—she was brave. Stalwart, a word he hadn’t heard or used since his long-past military days.

He pulled up to her house and saw her on the porch. The second she saw his truck, she stood up from her chair, and he jumped out of the truck, coming around to her side. For a moment, he just looked at her. She was so beautiful with a soft smile for him.

Then he said it. “He’s dead, Les. Mathis didn’t survive a gunshot wound.”

Her hand came up to her open mouth, and a little squeak escaped her. Then she ran down the porch steps and flung herself into his arms.

For a while all he could do was kiss her and kiss her, changing the angle of his mouth to get a deeper kiss. Finally he broke away enough to ask, “Did you know what was going on down there? That he was shot on the courthouse steps? I didn’t call you on purpose—there wasn’t any solid information and I kind of made a run for it.”

She nodded. “Brie called about fifteen minutes ago. But why, Conner? Who would shoot him?”

“The victim’s girlfriend, or a reasonable facsimile. I talked to the D.A. less than an hour ago—he’s dead. No more trial. No more villain.”

“God, Conner. The one thing I never dared imagine.”

“It’s over, Les,” he whispered. “Over.”

She shook her head. “No, Conner. This is just the beginning.”

“Right,” he said, giving her a kiss, longer, deeper than before. “Our beginning.”