Complicated Page 15

  Hix halted and turned only his head to his deputy.

  He liked all his deputies—in their jobs and out of them—including Bets when she wasn’t being a pain in his ass.

  Not including Hal.

  He was a good enough deputy.

  But he was an asshole.

  His voice said things Hix wasn’t going to verbalize, but he still made them clear when he replied, “How ’bout I leave your private life to you, you let me have mine, and you don’t say shit about Bets like that at all in anything owned by this county, like this building, your cruiser, during your time earning a paycheck or to anyone who’s also on the county’s dime.”

  What Hix hadn’t verbalized was that Hal’s private life included the fact he’d been a cop in Kansas City until his wife had become fed up with him chasing skirt.

  She’d given him an ultimatum: they changed their lives in order to assist him in changing his ways or they were done.

  Instead of cutting her loose, what he should have done, he’d changed their lives. They’d moved up to Glossop and he’d moved into his position as a deputy.

  But he hadn’t changed his ways.

  He had a steady woman on the side and a couple of other not-as-steady ones he also saw.

  Who he banged, and so many of them not being his wife, was unfortunately not something Hix could release him for.

  Hal did the job, had a number of years on it, was as good at it as he could be, considering nothing ever happened, so Hix was stuck.

  Therefore Hix put up with him.

  But Larry only tolerated him.

  And Bets tried to avoid him because he razzed her about Hix, also about being a rookie, and lastly she avoided him because he was an asshole.

  Donna detested him and was professional enough to work beside him without hurling, but that was the extent of it.

  This last came to a head after they’d solved the burning mystery of the farmer whose chickens were getting stolen (the farmer’s daughter’s boyfriend said farmer wouldn’t let her date was doing the deed).

  Donna and Hal had worked that, and after they sat in his office reporting on it, Donna had turned to Hal and declared, “If I have to sit in a squad and listen to your trashy sex talk with one of your floozies again, Hal, I’ll forget about the protect-and-serve brotherhood and share with Ashlee you can’t keep your dick in your pants. Don’t test me. This is your only warning.”

  She’d gotten up after that and walked out.

  Hal had turned to Hix, clearly feeling the brotherhood he didn’t consider Donna a part of because she had a badge but not a dick would commiserate, but Hix just stared at him until the man spoke.

  “I just—”

  Hix had lifted a hand. “Not my business. But Donna’s right. That shit does not happen on county time. You got life stuff with family and friends you need to deal with on the job, that’s not an issue. You wanna talk like that with one of your women on the county’s time, we got a problem. Now, you want my counsel, I’ll tell you to keep your dick in your pants for anyone but your wife. You want my opinion, I don’t like how it reflects on this department that you don’t. Since you didn’t ask my counsel or my opinion, I gotta keep my mouth shut about both. I won’t, I find any more of your shit happens on the job.”

  “Everyone takes personal calls on the job,” he’d defended.

  “And right now I’m tellin’ you, my deputies don’t take that kind of personal call on the job,” Hix returned.

  Hal said nothing.

  So Hix did.

  “Feel we got that straight. Now, out.”

  Hal had slunk out and Hix had made a point not to schedule Donna on weekend call with Hal, nor had he put them on a case together.

  It was working.

  Just.

  “Sorry, boss,” Hal muttered.

  Having been reminded of his place, something, thankfully, that Hix didn’t have to do often, Hal looked that mix of chastised and pissed he pulled off so well.

  He then cleared his throat and asked, “Larry phone in about the weekend?”

  “Accident on 28,” Hix told him. “Lots of damage to the cars, thankfully minimal damage to the people. He says his report is on my desk.”

  Hal nodded.

  “Outpost had a thing but Betty-Jean handled it before Larry and Donna could hit it,” Hix went on. “That’s it.”

  “Right.”

  “Yeah,” Hix said, dipped his chin and then walked the rest of the way to his office.

  He didn’t look at Hal as he settled himself and he also didn’t think of Hal.

  He’d had Junk Sunday with his kids. It had been great. Now was the not-so-great part, since they were off to Hope’s after school and practices that day.

  But also now he could turn his mind to something else, something his, and what he was turning it to was Greta.

  He should have gotten her number before he left her.

  He didn’t.

  He’d rectify that.

  But that morning, after Lou’s opened and he was sure Greta would be around, he was going to call down to the salon and ask her to meet him at the Harlequin for lunch that day.

  He didn’t care what that would say to anyone but Greta.

  And what he hoped it would say to Greta was that Hix wanted to spend time with her in a place they couldn’t lock lips and things would then get out of control.

  Not that he didn’t want that. Greta out of control was a very good thing.

  He just wanted to get to know her better.

  He liked looking at her. She made him laugh. There was stuff about her he was curious about and he wanted to know.

  And she knew where he was in his life and his head, and she didn’t care.

  She was uncomplicated, the only thing in his life that had been in a long time. She gave him that freely, when he wasn’t acting like a dick.

  He liked it.

  And he wanted more.

  He could give it headspace, overthink it, fuck it up.

  There was no reason.

  She was just Greta. She made him laugh. She made him feel good.

  So he wasn’t going to make something simple, complicated.

  He was just going to have lunch with a woman he liked to spend time with.

  What came after that, he wouldn’t give it headspace either.

  His son had been right. He’d been living so long with trying to hold together his family his only focus, he forgot to look after himself.

  That wasn’t teaching his kids good lessons.

  If his two girls found out about Greta, he’d deal with that if or when the time came.

  But Corinne may give her brother guff, she still looked up to him and listened. Mamie adored him and would follow his lead.

  It might end up in disaster.

  It might be great.

  It didn’t matter right then. He wasn’t bringing her into his children’s lives right then.

  Right then it was two people getting together for lunch.

  That was all Hix was thinking about.

  And for the first time in a very long time, he was looking forward to something.

  This lasted all of ten minutes, when the deep chill that came from the bullpen hit his office.

  He looked from the report he was reading out the window to see Bets had arrived and she was avoiding Hal at the same time doing that to Hix.

  If he was there before her, she came in and said hey.

  This time, she was at her desk, staring at her computer like the impossible had happened and something interesting was on it.

  She’d been like that all last week.

  He’d give her that week.

  Then he’d find some way to snap her ass out of it.

  He was finishing up reading the report when another feel came from the bullpen.

  He looked out the window and then he fought closing his eyes and tipping his face to the ceiling.

  He just drew a breath in through his nostrils.

 
Letting it go, he got up and moved to the side of his desk, standing there but leaning his thigh into it as he watched his ex-father-in-law, Jep Schroeder, finish walking by the window to disappear down the back hall.

  Hix aimed his eyes at the door and saw Jep walk through.

  Jep had a thinning head of gray hair and a thick mustache over his top lip, and the only thing about it that had changed since Hix had met him was the color.

  He also had a way about him that said plain he was a good ole boy in the right sense of that—he was a good man and he was not young.

  “You got a minute, son?” Jep asked.

  In all likelihood, he had all day.

  And it had been setting itself up to be a good one, if Greta agreed to lunch.

  Now?

  Not so much.

  “Jep, not sure this is a good idea,” Hix said by way of answer.

  Jep gave him a look that lasted a few beats before he replied, “Won’t take much of your time, Hix. Promise. And I won’t be much of a pain in your patoot. That’s a promise too.”

  Hix sighed before he tilted up his chin.

  Jep closed the door behind him and walked in. He stood behind a chair and put a hand on it when Hix didn’t move from his place, leaning against his desk.

  “We got a situation with Hope,” Jep announced.

  Well then . . .

  Right.

  He had to make this clear as best he could without hurting feelings or damaging a relationship that meant something to him.

  And he had to pull that off now.

  So Hix shook his head. “Love you like a father, you got that and always will, no matter what papers I’ve signed. I hope you knew that before I just gave it to you. That being so, I also hope you get you got my respect even as I tell you whatever situation you have with Hope has nothin’ to do with me.”

  Jep held his gaze as he nodded slowly.

  “That’s the situation we got with Hope, son,” he said quietly.

  Not a surprise. She probably went straight to their ranch after her conversation with Hix in that very room last Tuesday.

  “I know it’ll take time,” Hix replied. “I know it won’t be easy. And I know in this town, it bein’ so small, that’ll make it even harder. But that doesn’t negate the fact I’m tryin’ to move on from all this and I’ll ask you to help me with that by not bringing this kind of thing to my office. But also, Jep, not bringing it to me anywhere at all.”

  “You’re done with her,” he whispered.

  “She divorced me, so yes. I’m done with her, Jep. I’m sorry but there it is.”

  Jep swallowed, looked to the side, sniffed loud and Hix gave him time.

  The man was sixty-two and he had more land than Hix figured took up the whole of the town proper of Glossop.

  He was a rancher, not a farmer, as his father (this happening twice over) had been, all of them expanding the ranch and the head of cattle on it to the point they didn’t see lean years like other ranchers sometimes had to endure. His sons worked with him as well as both owning their own small farms. His daughter worked for him too, doing the books, dealing with the auctions, making the sales of steer sperm, overseeing her brothers’ individual accounts, their farm business, and all the rest that was required, which was a lot with an operation that large.

  For the men, the work was honest, but hard and never-ending.

  Even so, Jep looked his age, not a day younger, but not a day older either.

  Except right then.

  Right then he looked about a hundred.

  “Jep,” Hix called.

  His ex-father-in-law turned his eyes to Hix and requested, “Can I ask one thing of you, Hixon?”

  “Hate to say it how I gotta say it, but it depends on what that thing is.”

  Jep accepted that with a nod.

  “What it is, is that I know it’s none of my business, wasn’t when you were with my daughter, isn’t now. But can I ask if you’re needin’ to use that money your uncle gave you to buy you a new place?”

  Hix straightened from the desk, surprised this was something he wanted to know.

  Surprised, but there was no reason not to tell him.

  “No choice,” he shared. “Had to use some of it on a lawyer and setting up the apartment too. Why?”

  Jep’s eyes went even sadder and he shook his head. “Just . . . guess . . .” He pulled in breath, looking like he was struggling, and Hix hated watching a man who was always so sure of himself going through that. Finally, he got where he needed to go. “Wanna know you’re covered, son.”

  This wasn’t surprising.

  Hix had a great dad.

  But Jep still was like a father to him and had always treated him not like a son-in-law, but like a son.

  Not to mention, Hix had Jep’s grandchildren half the time.

  “I’m good, Jep. Kids’re good. We’re lookin’ at houses. We’ll be settled soon.”

  “Unh-hunh,” Jep mumbled.

  “We’re okay and it’ll get better, time passes,” Hix assured him quietly.

  Jep nodded.

  Then he lifted himself up, faced Hix dead on and declared, “We spoiled her. Our last. A girl. Marie wanted one so bad. I didn’t admit it, but I did too. Let her have her way until it was time to stop doin’ that, then she set about makin’ things her way and we shoulda nipped that in the bud too. We just didn’t, and now—”

  Hix cut him off. “Jep, now she’s an adult and she needs to bear the consequences of her actions, not you. Not Marie. This isn’t on you. Or Marie. And further, no need to find a place to lay blame. What’s done is done. It’s over. We just gotta find our way to move past it and settle in.”

  “Reckon you’re right,” Jep muttered.

  “No choice but to be right about that,” Hix told him.

  His shoulders slumped, the light in his eyes dimmed, and Hix wished he’d found different words or not said anything at all.

  “We’ll miss you at our Thanksgiving table, Hixon,” Jep told him.

  “And I’ll miss being there, Jep,” Hix replied.

  Jep brightened. “Maybe one day, you all get settled in, we’ll all—”

  “Jep,” Hix said carefully.

  “Yup. Yup,” Jep replied, catching his meaning and nodding. “You’re right, Hix.” He took his big, calloused hand from his chair and lifted it Hix’s way, pressing it toward him a couple of times, saying “Best be leavin’ you alone. No need to follow me out, know my way.”

  Hix stood where he was and watched Jep walk slowly to the door.

  He stopped in it and turned.

  “End this the only way I can,” he stated. “And that’s to tell you the God’s honest truth. Me and Marie, we want you to be happy. Cook and Jessie do too. Reed, he spoils his sister more than any of us ever did, he’s not handlin’ things well, but he’ll come around. His Molly’s already there.” He gave a grin he didn’t even try to make Hix believe was real. “But she’s always been the sharper tack between those two. Smartest thing Reed’s done is make that woman his wife, and you know I’ve said that to his face so you don’t gotta keep it under your hat, mostly ’cause Reed agrees with me. But we all . . . just to say, we all . . .” He smacked his lips, held Hix’s eyes, and finished, “Don’t care what no papers say. You’ll always be family, son. Not my grandbabies’ daddy. Family, Hixon. The real kind. Always.”

  Hix found he had to clear his throat before he replied, “Same.”

  Jep nodded quickly and repeatedly and murmured, “Let you get to work.” And on that, he opened the door and walked out.

  Bets walked in.

  Damn.

  “Bets—” he started.

  She interrupted him.

  “The Mortimers called. They just got home from a weekend in Lincoln. Home game. Made a thing of it and cashed in some freebie they’d won for a double-night stay at a Best Western. Got back this mornin’, found someone painted graffiti on their barn. They’re ticked. They want someone out ther
e. I’d say I’d go with Hal, but, don’t get pissed, he’s being more of a dick than normal and I’m fed up with his crap. So just wanna ask, can I go alone?”

  Butch Mortimer was born in a bad mood and he was big as a house.

  His wife Louella didn’t come straight from the loins of her momma. She came straight from the loins of Satan.

  No way in hell he was sending Bets out there to deal with those two alone.

  And this would take some time. Time to listen to Butch shouting. Time to listen to Louella bitching. Time to ask the questions that might give them answers that possibly might pinpoint the actual person who graffitied their barn rather than the dozens of suspects who disliked them enough to be moved to do it.

  Shit.

  Apparently, he’d have to ask Greta to lunch tomorrow.

  He moved from his spot, saying, “We’ll both go.”

  She looked panicked.

  She’d have to get over it.

  He was her boss. They had to work together so she had to find a way to make that work.

  She might as well start now.

  That night, after they did not narrow down the suspects of the barn taggers, and after Hix had gone to the gym to work out, he sat at a stool at the bar of the Outpost between his buds, Toast and Tommy, watching Monday Night Football on Betty-Jean’s eighty-inch TV.

  His gut was full of wings and pop and his mind was full of football and the lunch he hoped to share tomorrow with Greta.

  In other words, he was feeling good.

  Until his phone rang, he lifted it from the bar and the screen said Hope Calling.

  Toast made a grunt, but then again Toast had had his own bitter divorce from his wife two years previously. Tommy just shifted on his stool, giving Hix a half-grimace that said he felt Hix’s pain even though he was a confirmed bachelor so he couldn’t even come close to doing that.

  They’d seen the screen.

  For Hix’s part, she had his kids, he had to take the call.

  “Be back,” he muttered, sliding off his stool and letting the phone ring until halfway to the door of the bar where he took the call. “Hope.”

  “Hixon,” she replied shortly.

  He pushed out the door. “The kids okay?”

  “Yes,” she bit out.