Thirty-One and a Half Regrets Page 58

I jumped at the sound of a knock on the kitchen door and Muffy released a low growl. I started to move away, but Mason’s arm tightened around my waist. “Come on in, Deputy Miller,” he said.

Deputy Miller pushed the door open, averting his gaze when he saw how close I was to Mason.

The deputy turned his gaze to Muffy who ran over to his feet and danced around. “Sir, I got the truck in the barn to turn over and I left the keys in the ignition. It’s really old, but someone’s been taking care of it. I think it would be safe for you to take it out.”

I glanced up at Mason in surprise.

“Thanks, Deputy.”

He nodded and went back outside, clearly eager to escape any more PDA.

Mason turned toward me with a small smile. “I wanted to drive around the land, and I figured you’d probably welcome the chance to get out of the house.” He stood. “Do you want to see the farm?”

“Yeah. I do,” I said, surprised that I actually did. “But don’t you need to get back to work?”

He shook his head. “I’ve gone over these files and cases so many times I’ve lost perspective. I’m hoping a little fresh air will help bring me some clarity.” He reached down to help me up.

I ran upstairs to grab the jacket Mason had packed for me and met him in the kitchen. He was loading a shotgun when I walked in—a grim reminder that this wasn’t just an afternoon drive.

“Does Muffy like car rides? Do you want to take her?” he asked, looking up.

“She loves them. And yeah.” She’d been my shadow all day, and she was standing at my feet. “Muffy, do you want to go bye-bye?”

She jumped up on my legs and released an excited bark.

Mason laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Muffy is definitely her own person.”

He smirked. “Well, she’s a lot like her owner.” He slung the strap of the gun over his shoulder. “No wonder you two are so close.”

We went out the back door and hiked out to the barn, following the path the tires had made in the tall weeds. The sun had begun to sink in the sky and the air had gotten colder since yesterday. I pulled my coat closer, thankful Mason had thought to grab it.

“There’s snow in the forecast tomorrow.”

I turned to him in surprise. “This early in November?”

He chuckled. “So much for global warming.”

Muffy romped excitedly through the grass, stopping every couple of feet to sniff.

“Do you worry she’ll run off?” Mason asked, pausing to watch her.

“Not really. Not unless she’s scared. The only time she ran off was when Joe called the police with an anonymous tip that the gun that had killed Sloan was in my shed. The police showed up and a crowd gathered and Thomas’s car backfired. Muffy freaked out and took off. I tried to run after her, but the police handcuffed me and left me in the driveway in front of everyone.”

He slipped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned my head against him as I watched Muffy run to a new stretch of weeds.

“Joe was on his front porch watching the entire thing. He took off after her, but he couldn’t find her. I was sure I’d never see her again. And then she came back the next day and saved my life. Now I listen to her. She has a sixth sense about things.”

“I’m glad she’s with us.” He kissed my temple before releasing me.

When we reached the barn, he pulled open the big wooden doors. I walked into the darkness, letting my eyes adjust. An old pale blue pickup truck that I remembered from some of the old photographs filled the front of the building. I walked around the barn, discovering empty stalls and musty hay.

“They kept horses,” I murmured, moving to the wall covered with reins and halters.

“Looks like it,” Mason said, following me. “Do you ride?”

“I did when I was a girl. I spent a couple of summers with Uncle Earl and Aunt Bessie. They have a farm in Lafayette County.”

We wandered around the barn for several minutes, Muffy sticking close to my side. Mason stood in the open doors for a few moments, staring out at the fields. “Let’s go see the land,” he finally said.

“Okay.”

“Do you want to drive? It’s a stick shift. I can teach you how.”

Warm memories of Mason helping me buy my own truck washed through me. Then I remembered the last time I drove a stick shift was when a crazy drug addict held me hostage at gun point and we ended up crashing into the back of a truck. I didn’t feel like pressing my luck. “I think I’ll pass. Why don’t you drive?”

He held open the passenger door and Muffy jumped in first, claiming her seat in the middle.

“This reminds me of my Nova,” I said as Mason slid behind the steering wheel. I turned the knob on the radio, watching as a dot rolled back and forth over the line charting the stations. “I love my truck, but sometimes I miss that car.”

He turned over the ignition and the engine sputtered to life. “They don’t make ’em like they used to.” He gave me an ornery grin.

After pulling out of the barn, he started to follow the one-lane dirt road abutting the fields north of the house.

“This road looks like it’s been used within the last few weeks,” he said. “It’s not overgrown like the fields. But the question is who was out here and will they be back?”

“It could have been Uncle Earl. He checks on the property regularly.”

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