“Denis Gavellin.”
“Yes?”
“We agree to your terms.”
My back straightened from where I’d been pricking new seedlings into the garden. I’d been spending more time out here since my world flipped inside out. If my people skills were limited before, they’d now gone on sabbatical indefinitely.
“All of them?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. All of them.”
Colour me impressed. The local council had approved something in under a day. Maybe it’d rain cats and dogs next—or I’d win the lottery.
“With one contingency,” he added.
Always so close.
“Which is?”
“Local police need to be on site and there can be no spectators besides the two listed.”
I’d figured the first might be a requirement. I tried not to hope that a certain detective would be there. He hadn’t contacted me since yoga class, and I’d taken to cleaning Steamy Sips after hours to reduce my interaction with humans.
“Fine by me.”
“There’s a contract being drawn up by our lawyer—Trevor. You’ll need to go over it with your own counsel before we can begin prep.”
I threw my head back and laughed. Fucking Trevor. Fitting, really—coming full circle with him involved.
“How long will prep take?”
“Two days, give or take. We’ll need time to notify residents that a training is taking place—otherwise the phone will ring off the hook come go time. Then there’s traffic management,prepping the grounds and building, and sending invites to neighbouring stations.”
Sounded like a party.
“Miss Walls?”
I groaned. “Mr Gavellin?”
“You said you wanted this done as soon as possible. We’re happy to honour that. But it begs the question… have you really thought this through? Do you need…” he cleared his throat again, like something unpleasant was stuck in it. “Do you need to talk to someone? Professionally?”
I snorted. Poor Denis. That must’ve taken some effort.
“Sir,” I said, pressing the earth around a new spinach seedling with my fingers before sitting up straight. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
It took a week.Seven days of churning stomachs, nervous poops and the inability to eat anything except Breeze’s chocolate caramel slice.
I felt airily calm as I flicked on the indicator and turned towards Bellamy Lane. Traffic management trucks cordoned the entire block off. Their colourful cones and security stationed at every street entrance. The disruption to residents was minimal—the area was mostly farmland and reserves, just beyond the main drag of town—but I could see why Denis had needed to alert them. The most exciting thing to happen in Glades Bay most weeks was the bet going on how many times Meryl would take a tumble on the street in a given week.
A few drops of rain hit my windscreen as a man in an orange high-vis jacket shone a torch. Finding my number plate on his clipboard, he moved a few cones aside to let me through to the darkening street. He pointed towards a paddock behind his truck, where a handful of emergency vehicles, a bus, and other cars sat, and I pulled in beside the recognisable black Jeep. June was sitting inside furiously sipping at a bottle of water.
“Ready to fuck shit up?” I asked after I’d ripped the door open.
She smiled at me in her hot pink pencil skirt and camel-coloured cashmere jacket, then took another swig of her water.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
