Bound to Forever - Book ll

New Lead

Simon's Point of View:

Finley had contacted me to meet him at the office, confirming that Steve was available for a meeting after returning to town. He advised me to wear casual clothes instead of my uniform as, according to Steve, did not want a lot of curious glances when a man in uniform arrives at his complex.

I rode with him in his unmarked car, parking in the guest parking spot before stepping out of the car to look around. "Not a single security camera, Riley."

"Probably doesn't want a record of what's going on around here." I replied, watching a group of men unload numerous bags of cattle feed into the bed of a pickup truck from a semi-trailer. I may live on a ranch and know a thing or two about cattle thanks to marrying into Kiera's family, but I certainly know that even we don't buy that much cattle feed for our herd of more than three hundred. Like I said, this was a semi-trailer full of it, and unless he had a few thousand, the shipment automatically raised red flags for me.

"Mr. Finley! Over here!" A woman chimed from the sidewalk; a tablet clutched under her arm. I assumed that she was either a personal assistant or receptionist. Either way, Finley and I closed the distance and met her at the sidewalk. "Right this way. Mr. Richardson is expecting you." She smiled at us.

"That was a big load of cattle feed back there." I whispered to Finley, watching him shake his head at my statement.

"We're in Montana. There are more cows than people in this state."

I figured that. Montana and Wyoming both have more cattle populations than people, but for one person or business to buy semi-trailer loads full? Something just doesn't sit right with me about that. Maybe it was nothing, but if Legacy Investments only focuses on developing land and shipments, why would cattle feed be any concern in the first place?

I made a mental note to talk to Kiera about it later.

The hallway leading to Steve's office was dark, only lit by dim lights that accented the line of taxidermy animal trophies that were lining the hallway. Zebras, elk, a moose, two bison, a rhino, and a lion.

"A family of skilled marksmen..." I trailed off as I gazed at the inhumane trophies this man had lining the wall. He didn't hunt for food, he hunted for sport, and if there was another reason to not like this man, this was added to the list.

"I'll do the talking, Riley."

"Good. I don't like talking."

The assistant closed the heavy oak door to Steve's office right behind us, leaving us to take a seat right in front of him as he sat at his desk, looking at me as if he knew why I was there in the first place. He didn't seem distressed about Eva's murder, and I was certain that he wasn't going to say a word about it unless I brought it up.

"What brings you two to my office today?" He asked, a sly smirk curving on his mouth before he reached for the small glass of whiskey he had been sipping on all morning. Whiskey this early? Need something strong to calm your nerves, bastard? "I'm afraid I don't have the resources to help you in your investigation. I wish I could, but all I know about these murders is the gossip from the diner which we both know is far from reliable."

You talk too much.

"Mr. Jennings, a guard from the prison has disappeared, called your company multiple times in the last three days. Grant Johnson, also deceased, a former truck driver of yours—"

"For a company we contracted with." Steve corrected him, pouring more whiskey into his glass.

Nervous, are you?