“Your dog’s been causing havoc, Tay.” He turns around, raising a bushy eyebrow at me.
“Notmydog, Grizz. Poupon belongs to my aunt. Dean and I are looking after him while she’s in Paris.”
He grunts and shakes his head. “Damn stupidest name I ever heard for a pooch.Poupon. What’s that mean anyway?”
“Something to do with mustard.” I shrug and go inside.
My brother Dean is in the kitchen while Poupon attacks a small pink bone by his feet.
“Your turn, Tay. Poupon ate something weird and had to poop twice. Poupon by name, poop-on by nature. I have to go and do the rounds.” Dean is part of the volunteer service who visit sick and injured people in Snowflake. The two of us couldn’t be more different; he’s a jock and I’m a nerd.
I nod, pour myself some coffee, grab my laptop, and take his seat at the table. Some of the guys are yucking it up out in the backyard, so I tune them out. One of the better things about having a reputation as a grumpy nerd is that people tend to think twice before they bother you.
Poupon hasn’t got the memo, though. He leaps up into my lap, turning around a couple of times, and then curls up and starts snoring. Trying not to disturb him, I open my laptop.
I’ve kept a diary for the last few months to track what I know about Silas Thorn. I’ve also kept a close eye on Ava and her Mom. Mila lives with Brock now, so I’m confident he can look after. Brock knows what I’m doing, although I don’t think he suspects I’m keeping tabs on Ava so closely.
One of the latest initiatives in Snowflake’s ongoing nature program is webcams to track animal and bird life around the town. When I’m not out on a job, I can track Ava’s movements through these cameras, checking her house and the three different businesses she works for as a PA.
I review the footage, examining it carefully to make sure there’s nothing out of the ordinary. My cock jumps at her familiar, hip-swaying walk, her golden hair swinging in the breeze. Everything about her is perfect to me, even the way she brushes her hair away from her face and ties it up in a ponytail.
A dark red car I don’t remember seeing before, with distinctive orange-trimmed hubcaps and tinted windows, hasdriven past Snowflake Souvenirs three times today. It’s also been parked outside the library, where Ava’s mom works, for the last hour. I scroll back to check if anyone gets out of the car.
Poupon wakes up with a snort and starts yipping when Brock walks in.
“Hey Chief,” I raise a hand.
“Hi, Sherlock, what have you found out for us today?” As he sits, he reaches for Poupon’s pink bone. The little dog leaps out of my lap and runs for it, growling. Ember, the firehouse dog, sticks her nose around the door, looks at Poupon, and then withdraws.
“Check this out.” I move my screen around to show him the car.
A line appears between his eyebrows. “That car is from out of town. I’d remember if anyone here owned it. Looks like whoever’s in it is keeping tabs on Ava and her Mom.”
I nod.
“You aren’t on shift for a couple of days, are you? Just emergency calls? Can you check out who’s in the car? I’m going to make sure Mila and her Mom are okay. They’re at the house this evening, baking.”
Standing, I reach for my jacket. “I’ll do it now. Come on, Poupon.”
Once I’m outside, the dog and I walk to the library. The car is there, but it’s impossible to see in through the tinted windows. I knock on one, but nobody’s inside.
I don’t like this. I’m going to head over to Ava’s work and see if she’s there. If she’s not, I can look at the webcam footage to see where she’s headed.
I need to keep her safe.
Chapter Three
AVA
Last night I couldn’t sleep. Today, I can’t concentrate.
My job is all about being organized. I’m the one who takes the load off my clients’ shoulders. I’m good at it. Being a freelance PA suits me. I get to spend my time in different offices and I don’t get bored stuck in one place.
Mila teases me that I’m happiest with my nose buried in a spreadsheet. But what I enjoy the most is getting to know how people turn their business dreams into a reality. I’d love to open up my own bookshop one of these days.
Deb, who runs Snowflake Souvenirs, never misses a trick. “You okay, darlin’? Seem a little preoccupied today. How about another donut?”
I shake my head. “Thanks, Deb.”
