He takes one of my hands, placing it over the bulge in his uniform pants. “And you worried I would forget about you. Silly girl.”
My face hurts from the smile lifting the corners of my mouth as high as they’ll go, because this moment is so us.
I didn’t think I could ever be this happy.
He kisses my forehead and then takes a step back. “Love you.” A smile beams across his face when he says the words. “Good luck at your appointment. Text me after.”
Maui follows her daddy, sad to see him leave. He shoots me a wink as he closes the door. Once I’m alone, my one-socked foot stomps on the kitchen floor wishing I could do my best Tom Cruise and slide across the room. Pure giddiness is what I’m feeling. It’s a feeling I’ve fought for years. Now that I’ve given up the fight, the reward is glorious.
I love Owen, and he loves me. Dusty is behind bars. Giddiness seems the appropriate emotion for the moment.
The dog thinks I’m playing and jumps and barks along with me until I pick her up. Holding her to me, with one chocolate paw in my hand held out like she’s my ballroom dance partner, we dance. There’s no music playing, but I hum “Boogie Shoes” like I have been for the last few days. Visions of Owen putting on a show to the song cause my smile to grow to the point of painful.
Only two minutes after Owen leaves, my phone lights up with a text notification. I thumb on the screen and fear vanquishes my giddiness, as the sender doubtlessly intended.
Unknown Caller:
Looks like we’ll have to take care of things ourselves.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Owen
“Listen... you’ve got the footage. You know it was me. What questions could you possibly have?”
“Mr. Armstrong, before we go any further, are you sure you don’t want an attorney here on your behalf?” Detective Hibbs asks from the other side of the table in the crowded interview room. Two other detectives, my sergeant and lieutenant, along with the two uniformed officers who escorted the suspect into the room are also on the other side of the glass window.
My stomach twists as I watch Hibbs question the traitor who has been torturing the McKinnon’s.
I had just put my truck in reverse when Daisy forwarded me the text she received. I rushed back into the house to find the light I had seen in her eyes when she kissed me goodbye gone. For that alone, I want to rip the throats out of every person involved in this shitshow.
Smith and his security team are tracing where the text came from, and we agreed it was best for me to go to work and follow my usual routine.
County and local officers have been stationed at the ranch, the store, the bar, and our homes. Sharon and her dog, Petey, are staying with my mom, and we have a county officer there, too. I know we’re covered, and coming to work was the smart thing to do, but I’m going mad. The need to be with Daisy has formed an ache in my chest so deep I can barely breathe.
When I got to work, I made it clear I was watching this interview. There was no pushback, so here I am.
“Nope. No need for an attorney,” Dusty says. “I won’t be here long.”
“We’d like to know who else is involved.”
Dusty leans back in his chair as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He folds his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his face. I doubt he can afford a lawyer on his own, but he seems confident that whoever hired him will have him out of here as soon as this interview is over.
“Were you paid to start the fires?”
“The McKinnons think they’re better than all of us. They own the hardware store, the local bar, and the ranch. Hell, you can’t even remodel a house without the women of the family getting involved. They think they have their own personal police officer in their pocket with Swift. It’s time someone put the McKinnons and Swift in their place.”
“And you’re that person?”
“Why not?”
“Did you act alone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you also cut the fences on the McKinnon and Shelton properties?”
“Yes, sir.”
