The heat from the forge beat at me. Droplets of sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down my spine. The quiet of my workshop surrounded me. Nothing but the clink of metal on metal, the low roar of flames in the forge. I was at peace here, alone with my work.

I pulled the metal disk out of the heat with a heavy set of tongs and brought it over to the anvil. It had once been part of a piece of machinery, long since discarded. But with some heat, and shaping, I’d give it new life. It was what I loved to do. Take something that had been thrown out and use it to make something beautiful.

With two sets of tongs, I bent and shaped the disk as it cooled. It would take several passes through the heat to get it looking like I wanted. Working with scrap could be painstaking. I always added a tremendous amount of detail to my pieces. But that’s how they existed in my head. I could see every curve and angle. It was just a matter of bringing the vision in my mind to life.

My phone buzzed on the work bench. I put the tongs down and wiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my forearm. Checked the call.

It was Deanna Silvers, my art dealer. She’d discovered my work a few years back and now she found buyers for me, especially for my larger pieces. She’d secured the commission I was working on, an installation for a brand-new building in Charlotte, North Carolina. It was the biggest thing I’d ever done, and the most expensive. The client had given me a surprising amount of creative freedom, simply asking for a piece that would look beautiful in front of his building. He liked my style, and he trusted me to come up with something amazing.

For what he was paying me for it, it needed to be spectacular.

I picked up my phone and answered. “Hey, Dee.”

“Hi, Jameson.” She had a slight New York accent. “How’s the piece coming?”

“Just fine.” I was hedging a bit, because I still wasn’t quite sure what the finished piece was going to look like. Until last week, I’d had it all worked out. But there was another vision in my head that I couldn’t shake. It was making it hard to stay focused on this one. I usually knew exactly what each piece was going to look like, but this time was different.

“If you’re going to have trouble delivering on time, you need to let me know as soon as possible,” she said. “This commission is a game-changer. The client loves your work, but I wouldn’t count on him being very forgiving of a missed deadline.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“All right,” she said, although I could tell she wasn’t sure. “There’s something else I need to run by you, and you’re not going to like it.”

I adjusted the phone, holding it against my ear with my shoulder. “And that is?”

“There’s going to be a grand opening at the building,” she said. “They’ll unveil your piece then. And you need to be there.”

“Ah, hell, Dee. They don’t need me there.”

“This is part of the deal, Jameson. You need to show your face once in a while. People like to see the genius behind the art.”

“I’m no genius.”

“I beg to differ,” she said. “Although the fact that you don’t realize it is part of your charm. Don’t worry about it for now; we have time. I’ll be there, too. And you can bring anyone else you’d like—your girlfriend if you want.”

“Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Well, maybe we need to get you one,” she said. “A guy like you shouldn’t be single.”

“I’m not sure being my art dealer qualifies you to comment on my personal life,” I said, my voice light so she’d know I was teasing her. She always commented on my personal life. Or lack thereof, as it were.

She laughed. “You don’t know how much I hold back with you, Bodine. Boy, would I love to play matchmaker. I know a few girls who—”

“No, thanks,” I said, cutting her off before she could continue. “I don’t need you going to all that trouble on my account.”

“Fine,” she said. “But if you change your mind, let me know. My niece—”

“No, Dee.” We’d had this conversation too many times already. “I’m certain your niece is lovely, but I don’t need you settin’ me up with someone.”

“All right, back to business. Keep me posted on your progress. And pencil in a trip to Charlotte for October. You’re going if I have to come out there and drag you with me.”

I had no doubt she’d do just that. “Duly noted. Take care, Dee.”

“Talk soon.”

I hung up and put my phone down just as Jonah stuck his head through the door.

“You about ready?” he asked. “We’re supposed to be at Bowie’s soon.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll just be a minute.”

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

Jayme, our family’s lawyer, was calling to update us on the investigation, so we were all meeting at Bowie’s. The police had taken the sweater Scarlett had found and obtained a warrant to search Dad’s house. So far, we hadn’t heard if they’d found anything new, nor when we might be able to get back into Dad’s place. Hopefully Jayme had some good news for us.

I took off my leather apron and hung it on a hook. My workshop was housed in a re-purposed old barn next to my house. It had a forge and several work benches. I’d built heavy duty shelves to house all the scrap I collected, and there was a big open area for me to work on larger pieces. Nothing fancy, but it suited my purposes just fine. I liked it in here—liked the quiet. I was in my element when I was creating things. Sometimes the rest of life seemed like it was just a bunch of interruptions.

Jonah was in the kitchen when I came in the house. One thing I would say for having a roommate foisted on me when I’d been too drunk to say no—Jonah could cook. I was eating a damn sight better than I had been before he’d moved in with me.

“I just need to change,” I said as I passed him.

My jeans had a few burn holes and I’d gotten pretty sweaty, so clean clothes were in order. I rinsed off in the shower, then put on a t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans. My going-out jeans, not my work jeans. Work clothes always ended up with scorches and burn holes. My hands and forearms had their fair share of scars, too. Small ones, mostly—I’d never seriously injured myself, but little burns were just part of life when you worked with hot metal all the time.

Jonah and I drove the short distance to Bowie’s house. He lived in a duplex in downtown Bootleg, not far from the high school. Gibson’s Charger was already outside, but I didn’t see Scarlett’s truck. Bowie let us in and grabbed us each a beer from the fridge. I took a seat on the couch and took a swig.

Gibson sat on the other side of the couch, glowering at something on his phone. I knew better than to ask him what was wrong. He either didn’t want to talk about it, and he’d tell me to shut up, or he’d let us know on his own. Wasn’t much in between with Gibs.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Jonah said as he settled onto a chair. “I’d like to organize a 5K run through Bootleg. What do you think? Would people be into that?”

“You should make it a moonshine run,” I said. “Finishers get a free drink at the end.”

“Does everything have to revolve around moonshine?” Jonah asked.

Bowie and I both looked at him with furrowed brows.

“You can have a regular old 5K run anywhere,” I said. “This is Bootleg Springs.”

“Point taken,” Jonah said.

Scarlett burst in wearing a big smile. The kind of smile that made me nervous. She was up to something.

“Hey, y’all,” she said. “Guess who is in town at this very moment, staying in one of my rentals?”

I glanced up. “Leah Mae Larkin?”

Her expression fell, her mouth dropping open, and her shoulders slumped. “What? How did you know?”

“I saw her at the Pop In.”

“Way to ruin a girl’s fun.” She crossed her arms. “I was hoping to surprise you.”

“Sorry.”

Scarlett’s grin returned. “That’s okay. Because there’s more.” She paused, no doubt attempting to add to the drama.

“Get on with it,” Bowie said, gesturing for her to continue.

“She asked about you,” she said, pointing her finger at my nose.

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” she said, her eyes shining with glee. “And I gave her your number.”

I blinked at my sister, my mouth partially open. I couldn’t think of anything to say to that.

“There’s something I’m missing here,” Jonah said.

“Jameson and Leah Mae Larkin were friends when they were kids,” Scarlett said. “Now she’s a model and on TV.”

“I knew the TV part,” Jonah said. “I guess now I know why you started shit with Rhett the other night.”

I hunkered down in my seat. “Just wasn’t right, is all.”

“Hmm,” Scarlett said. “Well, you better answer your phone when she calls you.”

I gave her a noncommittal grunt.

“Is Jayme calling or what?” Gibson asked.

Bowie got out his phone. “I’m calling her. I was just waiting for everyone to be here.” He dialed and put his phone on speaker.

“Bodines,” Jayme said when she answered. “Everyone present?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bowie said.

“All right, here’s the latest,” she said. “The sweater tested positive for blood. There will be more DNA testing to determine whose blood, although the chances of it not being Callie Kendall’s seem slim. Still, all we can do is wait for the forensics report.”

“Okay,” Bowie said. “What about the house?”

“They’ll be finished soon,” she said. “I’m pushing to get them out of there. They’ve had plenty of time. If they were going to find something, they would have by now.”

“So they haven’t found anything else?” Bowie asked.

“If they have, I haven’t been made aware of it,” she said. “They certainly didn’t find her body buried in the backyard, or we’d all know about it.”

“Hey,” Gibson barked. “No need to be so insensitive about it.”

I met Gibson’s eyes and nodded. He was right. Callie was a Bootleg girl, and we all cared about her. Dead or alive, we stuck up for our own.

Jayme paused before replying. “Apologies. My point is, chances are they didn’t find anything new.”

“What are we looking at here?” Bowie asked. “Dad can’t be charged with anything, right? You can’t try a dead man for murder.”

“No, you can’t,” Jayme said. “Even if there was overwhelming evidence, no criminal charges would be filed. But since it’s a missing persons case, they’ll try to reconstruct what happened to see if they can locate her body and determine if anyone else was involved. The other thing you have to be concerned about is Judge and Mrs. Kendall.”

“What about them?” Scarlett asked, crossing her arms like she was uncomfortable.

“They could potentially file a civil wrongful death suit against your father’s estate,” Jayme said.

“Over a sweater?” Scarlett asked.

“The burden of proof in a wrongful death civil suit is different than a criminal case,” Jayme said. “I don’t know if finding the sweater is enough, but it’s a possibility to be aware of.”

Gibson scowled. “His estate. Not like he had anything worth taking.”

“There’s the house,” Scarlett said.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jayme said. “For now, keep laying low. And quit starting bar fights.”

I knew everyone was looking at me, but I kept my eyes down.

“That’s it for now,” Jayme said. “I’ll let you know when you can get back into your father’s house.”

“Thanks, Jayme,” Bowie said. “Appreciate the time.”

“Sure,” she said, and hung up without saying goodbye.

“Well ain’t that some shit,” Gibson growled.

“I think it’s all gonna be fine,” Bowie said.

Ever the optimist, my brother. I wasn’t so sure things would be fine, but I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t have much to add that hadn’t already been said.

“We done here?” Gibson asked, already up and halfway to the door.

“Bye, Gibs,” Scarlett said.

Gibson grunted on his way out.

“I guess that’s about as good of news as we can hope for,” Bowie said.

“Y’all want to get some dinner?” Scarlett asked.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and a hit of adrenaline surged through me. Had Scarlett really given Leah Mae my number? Or had she just said that to mess with me?

While Scarlett made dinner plans with Bowie and Jonah, I carefully pulled my phone out of my pocket and peeked at the screen. I had a text, but I didn’t recognize the number. Made my hands shake a little, but I didn’t want to draw any attention.

I flicked my thumb across the screen. Tapped the text.

Hey Jameson. This is Leah. Hope you don’t mind me sending you a message. I thought maybe we could get together and catch up. Tomorrow? What do you think?

I closed the screen quickly so no one would glance at my phone and see it. I didn’t want to answer questions about it right now.

“What about you, Jameson?” Bowie asked. “Dinner? Devlin’s gonna meet us there.”

I stood, pocketing my phone, and kept my eyes on the floor. “Not tonight.”

“Aw, come on, Jame,” Scarlett said.

“You want a ride home?” Jonah asked.

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “You guys have fun. I’ve been holed up in my workshop so much lately, I could use some air. Gonna walk home.”

“Guess I can’t argue with you getting out a little,” Scarlett said. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Fine, Scar,” I said, smiling at her over my shoulder. “Night, y’all.”

The air outside was finally starting to cool. I hadn’t been making shit up. I did need the fresh air. But not because I’d been working too much. One little text from Leah Mae had my palms sweating.

It was ridiculous. She was just a girl I used to know.

That’s what I was telling myself, anyway.

I reckoned she had asked Scarlett about me. And here I’d thought I wouldn’t see her again after that encounter at the Pop In.

Taking a deep breath, and feeling mighty foolish that it was necessary, I took out my phone. Kept walking down the street in case one of my nosy siblings came out.

Me: Hey Leah Mae. Yeah, I’d like that. When are you free?

Leah Mae: Really? Oh good! How does lunch sound?

Me: Lunch sounds great. Moonshine at noon?

Leah Mae: Perfect. I’ll see you then.

I found myself almost typing it’s a date, but I stopped. It wasn’t a date. Just two old friends catching up. I reckoned she’d be leaving town soon anyway. Her life wasn’t here. It was off being famous. Marrying someone else.

Still, it would be nice to spend a little time with her. Find out how she was really doing. Maybe I could figure out why her eyes didn’t sparkle the way they once had. Get that image of the girl in a cage out of my head so I could focus. Because right now, it was all I could see.