The space was modernized with the reception desk at the front near the waiting room. A hallway down the left side led to a larger room with beehive desks, some with computers on top.
The night shift receptionist noticed him, and her eyes widened. “Hayes. This is an unexpected surprise. It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Phillis,” Hayes said with a smile. She was in her sixties, with black dyed hair and bright red nail polish on fake nails, a face full of wrinkles from heavy smoking, and a love of fine whiskey. “You’ve been well?”
“Same old, same old around here,” she said. “Are you here to see your father?”
Hayes nodded, giving his hair a shake, removing some of the water. “I am. Is he in his office?”
“Sure is.” She buzzed the door next to her desk. “Go on back.”
“Thanks.” He strode through, the door quickly locking behind him. Each step took all of his strength; with each one, he was desperate to turn around and go the other way. He had decided to transfer to Denver to stand on his own two feet, without having his father watching his every move. And in the years since he’d last been here, not much had changed. He passed the water fountain, then the waiting room where a couple of teenagers lingered, and officers sat at their cubicles doing desk work. Filing cabinets opening and closing, police radios squawking, every sound was exactly the same. It felt like no time had passed at all.
When he finally reached the corner office and saw his father behind his desk, Hayes asked, “Big case?”
Dad’s head jerked up, his eyes bulging before his expression went into cop mode, completely blank and unreadable. “I see you got home safely, minus a truck.”
Hayes nodded, entered the office, and sat in the guest chair. “I’ll miss that truck.”
“I bet,” Dad agreed. Then he gestured at the papers on his desk. “We’re down a couple of officers, I’m trudging through applicants for a handful of positions.” Which explained why his father had pressured Hayes about getting back on the force. His dad tilted his head to the side, laced his fingers together on top of his desk. “Now, let’s get to the reason why you’re here.” Because I never thought you’d step foot in here again, his focused gaze suggested.
A telephone rang out in the cubicles, fingers tapped constantly against keyboards. Hayes shut it all out with a steady breath. “I want to investigate who stole my truck and Maisie’s trailer.”
His father replied, “Boulder’s working that case. And need I remind you that you’re not a cop anymore? Your choice, not mine.”
Hayes dealt with the first part of his rebuttal. “The case could be worked in conjunction with River Rock, if the request came in from the chief of police.”
Dad leaned back in his chair. His slow smile began to build. “Ah, which brings us back to the second part of my statement.”
Hayes nodded. “What are you asking from me?”
“Six months. Work this case, then work here for me. If you want to walk away after that, then walk. But I want six months of your service.”
Hayes knew why. His father thought he’d miss the job, realize that the law was in his blood. It had been a part of him. Maybe the best parts of him. At the moment, Hayes didn’t care if that love came back. For Maisie, he needed to right this wrong. Hayes rose. “How long will it take you to reinstate me?”
“Officially, about a week,” his father said, his body posture perking up. “Unofficially, you can start tomorrow morning.” Dad hesitated now. The look in his eye was not that of the police chief, but of Hayes’s father. Attentive. Concerned. “Before we move ahead with this, do you have your mind straight? I do not need you becoming a liability.”
The light draining from Maisie’s eyes when she saw the burnt-out trailer filled Hayes’s mind. He’d seen the light go out of her eyes before. Never fucking again. He tapped his knuckles against the top of the chair. “Yes. Make it happen.” And with every step out of the station, he wasn’t thinking about his regrets or concerns, he only thought of Maisie.
10
The night seemed to drag on and on and on, and Maisie had tossed and turned the majority of it, mulling over the entire situation. All she wanted was to fulfill Pops’s final wishes, but all she did was fail. And late into the night, as Maisie stared at the bright moon outside her window, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Clara was right. She’d caught a curse somewhere in her life. Maisie had no idea by who or what, but the more she thought on it, the more she wondered why, no matter how hard she tried, everything went wrong. What had she done to irritate fate?
When exhaustion finally swallowed her up, Maisie dreamed of fairies with magical powers and pretty meadows with vivid, bright colors. When she awoke to a beautifully sunny day, she knew exactly what she needed to do. Extreme times called for extreme measures, and she was done sitting around waiting to fail again. She snatched her phone off her bedside table and dialed Penelope.
A sleepy Penelope answered the phone. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to go see Luna Whittle,” Maisie said, staring up at the flower shaped medallion above her ceiling fan.
Penelope croaked, “The psychic?”
“Yes!”
Shuffling sounds filled the phone line, and then Penelope groaned. “Maisie, it’s seven o’clock in the morning.”
“I know. I’m sorry for calling so early, but please tell me you’ll come with me.”
“Of course, I’ll come with you,” Penelope responded immediately. Some of the sleepiness left Penelope’s voice. “What time do you need me ready by?”