“Carly—”
“It’s done. I’m here now and I’m starting where Joe left off. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of it.”
“Except for El Jefe.”
With a sigh, she slumped back in the seat. “Yes.”
Linc reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll deal with him together. You aren’t alone anymore.”
She didn’t argue, though it wasn’t really true. For now Linc was her ally. Once he fulfilled what he considered his obligation to Joe, he would be out of her life and she would again be on her own.
She felt tired just thinking about it.
She jumped when her cell phone rang, hurriedly dug it out of her purse. The phone was playing her ring tone, not signaling a text, so it wasn’t El Jefe, or at least she hoped not. She checked the screen but didn’t recognize the number.
“This is Carly.”
“Sheriff Howler here. Got some news for you on that break-in at your place. You need to come down to the department.”
She covered the phone. “It’s Howler. He’s got information on the break-in. He wants me to come in to his office.”
Linc slowed and pulled the truck over to the side of the road. “Tell him we’re on our way.”
“We’ll be right there,” she said to Howler as Linc started turning the truck around.
“You and Cain?” the sheriff asked.
Carly’s mind flashed back to Deputy Rollins’s report, which mentioned the night they had spent together. “That’s right.”
“You bein’ Joe’s granddaughter, I figured you had more sense. I’ll see you when you get here.” The sheriff hung up the phone.
Carly tried to ignore what felt like embarrassment mixed with uncertainty. Was she making a fool of herself with Linc? Was half of Iron Springs laughing at her behind her back or maybe feeling sorry for her?
She didn’t want to be another of Lincoln Cain’s women and yet here she was, sleeping with him while the whole town speculated on how long the affair would last.
There wasn’t nearly enough time to compose herself before Linc pulled the GMC into a parking space in front of the Iron Springs Sheriff’s Department. With a sigh, Carly climbed down from the truck and the two of them walked into the building. Silver-haired Daisy Johnson was at work behind the counter.
“Sheriff’s been expecting you,” Daisy said, dragging a pair of reading glasses off her nose as she rose from the chair at her desk. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
“Send ’em in,” the sheriff called out from his office, mostly out of sight behind the open door.
Howler kicked his boots from the top of the desk to the floor and sat up a little straighter as they walked in. “Take a seat,” he said.
They sat down in straight-backed wooden chairs across from him. “You told me you had information on the break-in,” Carly said. “What did you find out?”
“We got prints,” the sheriff said. “Plenty of ’em. Guy wasn’t trying to hide his identity.”
“Who is he?” Linc asked.
“Fella’s name is Raymond Jackson Archer. White male, thirty-six years old, arrested in Austin six days ago on a domestic violence charge. Beat the hell out of some woman he was living with. Got out on bail and took off. The break-in at your place is the first sign of him the law’s come across since he skipped town.”
“I don’t understand,” Carly said. “Why would Raymond Archer vandalize my house?”
“Good question,” the sheriff said. “We’re looking into it, getting all the facts lined up. I was hoping you might have something to add that would be useful.”
“Such as?”
He studied her down the length of his nose. “Maybe Archer was an old boyfriend. Or someone else who had a grudge against you.”
