“That’s all I ask.”
“And I want another Butterscotch Caramel coffee. Tomorrow. And every morning for the rest of the week.”
I rolled my eyes. “Done.”
“And—”
A jacked-up Chevy skidded to a stop just feet from the front door.
“Dammit,” Andrew muttered. “That’ll be Detective Jagger. Guy’s a dog with a bone.”
I turned to the window and watched a beast of a man unfold from the cab. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Check, check, check—but there was a dangerous edge to him, the kind of hostile energy that made women ignore every red flag and run straight into traffic.
“Crazy Carl’s his case,” Andrew said. “Been on me since hour one. Guy’s relentless.”
Jagger stepped onto the sidewalk, glanced at his watch, and in the process revealed a flash of ink crawling out from under his leather jacket sleeve. He didn’t look like a detective. He looked like a reformed felon turned MMA fighter.
“At least today,” Andrew added, “I’ve got news for him.”
“Thanks to me,” I said, smirking.
“Don’t get too cocky.”
“Don’t forget to call your brother.” I nodded toward the paper bag on the desk as the front door creaked open behind me. “And let me know if you hear anything.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He shifted his attention to the detective and dismissed me.
13
ROSE
Closing my eyes, I blew out a breath and leaned back in my office chair, willing the headache between my temples to go away. It had been a day of back to back appointments, playing catch-up in-between, and ending with a brutal monthly staff meeting to recap our current cases—all on three hours of sleep. And to top it off, Theo still hadn’t graced me with his decision about my Equine Assisted Therapy program proposal.
Not surprisingly, word had gotten out about the gruesome murder of Carl Higgins. The town was in an uproar, feeding gossip, demanding answers. Everyone was on edge, excluding Mr. Jenkins. His bakeshop had gone through twenty dozen donut holes in the morning alone.
I hadn’t heard from Andrew since I’d visited that morning, adding restlessness and anxiety to my fatigued state. Had his brother agreed to scan Creepy-Ted for fingerprints? Or, had Andrew forgotten about the favor? Or maybe he was too wrapped up with Detective Jagger and Crazy Carl.
I opened one eye and glanced at the clock on the wall—4:47p.m.—and considered packing up. It would have been the first time I’d left before five, ever.
Then, a knock at the door.
“Come in…”
The door handle jangled, then jangled again. Frowning, I stood and crossed the room just as the door swung open and Zoey stumbled in, balancing two large boxes in her hands. At the doorway, sat two more.
I took one from her hand. “What’s this?”
“A lot.”
“Yeah, but what?”
“Sorry, my X-Ray vision is on the fritz. A delivery dude—hot, by the way—just delivered them for you.”
“From where?”
She shrugged and kicked another box inside.
