“You know to keep that outside of Ordinary, right? These are peaceful streets. And I expect us all to work together to keep them that way.”
“You know we will, Chief,” he said.
I nodded, because I did know. Part of what made this community work was all the people in the community reaching out, pitching in, raising voices, and listening. Listening went a heck of a long way toward peace.
“All right. We’ll back-burner my house search, but if it doesn’t show up, you are welcome to go through it. Is there anywhere else you want to sniff out? If so, make sure I or one of the other officers come with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“If you want to make sure whoever stole the Heartwood doesn’t get off on a technicality, you call on us. Understand? I know this is important to your clan. I know it’s precious. And tempers can flare. Let’s do this thoughtfully and follow the law. So we don’t make any mistakes.”
He was still frowning, but he nodded.
Ben, still standing with one arm around Jame, rolled his eyes and mouthed:werewolves.
I smiled. “Okay, good. You two let me know if you need anything.”
Ben gave me a little eyebrow waggle and tightened his arm around Jame’s waist. He leaned in and said something I couldn’t hear, but Jame responded with a low growl that almost sounded like a purr. Ben chuckled.
So all good there. Good.
I checked my phone. Five o’clock. I had an hour to kill before meeting Ryder. Time for a shower and change of clothes.
I made my way to the Jeep, and as I was passing a shop, a dress in the window caught my eye. It was a simple A-line with a scooped neck. A summer dress made of whites and a spray of blues that reminded me of the lake, of still water outside my window where the blue heron and turtles soaked in the sunlight.
It reminded me of peaceful times with Ryder, just the two of us on the deck he’d helped his father build, the town all around us, but somehow far away. The two of us in our own little world.
He had said come in casual nice, and since I only owned two dresses, maybe stepping out of my routine a little might be a good thing.
“If it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit,” I reasoned, stepping into the resale shop. The little bell tinkled to announce my entrance.
The goddess Tyche, who went by Cheryl, wore a kilt over ripped jeans and a light flowery blouse that showed off her bronze shoulders and the straps of her black under tank. Her springy black hair was tugged into place by a deep turquoise headband. She looked up from something she was embroidering—and the shock that registered over her purple reading glasses was a palpable thing.
“Delaney? Is everything all right? Is it the apocalypse? It’s the apocalypse, isn’t it? And I wasn’t even done with my cross-stitch. Ah, well. Want a drink?”
She tossed the hooped material on the chair next to her and bent to retrieve a large bottle of very nice whiskey. “Glass or bottle?”
She hooked two coffee cups and set them,clack, clack,down on the countertop. She was already pouring by the time I walked over.
“No apocalypse,” I said.
“You sure?” She paused in the pour. Only one cup had any hooch in it. I picked up the empty and turned it upside down. “Nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing more than the normal.”
“Then why are you in here? Is it Myra’s birthday? Jean’s?”
“I’m shopping.”
She blinked. Owl like. “For whom?”
“Me.”
The silence could have swallowed a whale.
“All right,” she finally said. “Sure. Of course. And that’s because…” She swayed toward the rack of T-shirts and jeans, behind which were some sturdy overalls and puffy winter barn jackets.
“No, I—”
She changed course and pointed at a rack of boots and a wet suit that I was pretty sure was made out of Kevlar.
