Stars & Stripes (Cut & Run 6)

Maybe they were trying to kill him.

Ty pulled on a pair of pants and headed downstairs, stepping over the cats without being molested, laughing again as he heard Zane come out of the bathroom and yowl in pain. After a few thumps and curses, Smith and Wesson thundered down the stairs to swarm Ty’s feet and wait for food.

“Good kitties,” Ty whispered to them. They were both purring so loudly it was impossible to hear Zane’s movements upstairs, but a few minutes later, Ty glanced up when Zane came stomping down the steps. He had his phone to his ear.

“Hey, Annie,” Zane said on the phone. He met Ty’s eyes and smirked as he swiped a piece of toast from one of the plates Ty was arranging. Ty swatted at him with a spatula, but missed. “No, no, it’s okay, I was up. What’s going on?”

Zane tensed as his sister spoke to him. Ty set the frying pan aside and watched his lover as an unsettling feeling started in his gut.

“Why the hell didn’t you call me earlier?” Zane blurted. “Do I need to come out there?”

Ty held his breath, straining his ears to hear. He couldn’t make out any of Annie’s words, but whatever she was saying was making Zane’s nostrils flare and his shoulders snap back. Classic signs that Zane was about to delve into Dark Mode.

Zane listened for a few more minutes, then bade his sister good-bye and hung up. He looked at Ty with wide eyes.

“You okay? What happened?”

Zane didn’t answer immediately. When he did speak, Ty knew he was whitewashing whatever he’d just learned. “Annie said they’re having trouble on the ranch. Trespassers. They think maybe it’s poachers or rival breeders after the horse stock.”

“Okay,” Ty said, confused about why that would warrant a call to Zane. As far as he knew, Zane had little contact with his family. Even his sister, who Zane got on well with, rarely called just to chat. “So, what, you need to go down there?”

“I don’t know. I mean no. No, they don’t need me.”

“Then why’d they call you?”

Zane waved his hand. “I don’t know, Ty. I can’t help, so there’s no point.”

“If you need to go, we can figure something out at work.”

“I don’t!”

Ty arched an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Zane shook his head, although he looked conflicted and more than a little annoyed that Ty hadn’t just let it go. “I’m sorry. If it’s still a problem when the weekend hits, I’ll head down there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, can we drop it now?”

Ty nodded and watched with a frown as Zane headed back upstairs. He stopped halfway up, then turned and thumped back down.

“Forgot what I was doing,” he mumbled. He snatched another piece of toast before Ty could stop him.

“Hey!”

“Shut up,” Zane said as he went back up the steps, taking them two at a time.

Ty watched him go, frown in place. Despite seeming to shrug it off, he knew Zane was worried. Whatever was going on in Texas, it was so much more than a few trespassers.

Ty jumped at the sound of a file folder hitting a box on the floor. He glanced up at Special Agent Scott Alston, who ignored the file when it skidded off the top of the stack to thump to the industrial-grade carpet. Alston leaned back in his chair as he loosened his tie, and then stuck his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

Their whole work group had been tasked with slogging through a load of files sent over from one of the other investigative teams, desperate to dredge up evidence on a case that was going colder by the day. There were literally hundreds of files, and the six of them were on their last hour before they could break for the weekend.

“Garrett, are you getting off on all this paperwork?” Alston asked.

“Zane went to the bathroom like five minutes ago, Scott,” Ty said. His words were marred by the yellow highlighter between his teeth. Both hands were full of papers, held aloft as he planted his elbows on his desk.

“Oh.” Alston said, running his fingers through his blond hair. Ty felt like Alston looked: exhausted, seeing double, and desperate to go home.

“Thank God it’s Friday,” Alston said on a deep sigh as he looked at the clock. Ty glanced at it too, out of habit. Close to quitting time.

His cell phone began to buzz at his hip, and he twisted to try to see the display. He had no free hands, and no free space on his desk to set one of the unorganized stacks down.

“Want me to get it?” Alston asked. He pushed out of his chair, and Ty nodded and stood as well, turning his hip toward Alston.

He spit the highlighter out. It clattered to the desk and rolled until it hit a stack of files too high to bounce over. Alston plucked the phone off his belt and hit the speaker button.

“Grady,” Ty said as Alston put the phone on the desk and took one of the stacks of papers from his hand. “Thanks,” Ty whispered.

“Ty?”

“Hey, Ma,” Ty said, distracted as he and Alston tried to switch things around while still keeping the stacks in order.

“You’re not still at work, are you? I can call back.”

“No, I’m about done here.” Ty glanced up at Alston and waved a handful of files at the shredder nearby. Alston shook his head, and Ty nodded in response, managing to start an argument without a single word.

On the other side of the pod of desks, Michelle Clancy began to giggle.

“What’s going on?” Ty asked his mother as he sat down and leaned closer to the cell phone, struggling to finish up his last file and listen at the same time.

“Well, I need a favor. A few favors, actually. But they can wait ’til you get home and call me back.”

Ty rolled his eyes and shook his head. Alston chuckled as he leaned against Ty’s desk. “Ma, will you just get to the point, please?”

“Well, we’re aiming to fix the old tin roof on the storage shed this weekend ’cause it’s leaking.”

“Oh God,” Ty groaned. He lowered his head, files forgotten. Alston squeezed his shoulder, mockingly comforting him.

“We wouldn’t need your help normally, but this morning I cut your daddy’s finger off, and he says he can’t hold a hammer.”

Ty’s head shot up. “You what?”

“Cut his finger off,” Mara said again, as if she hadn’t realized the news would be shocking.

The others were drifting closer, trying to hear the conversation. Ty sat silent a moment longer, his mouth agape. “On . . . purpose?”