The words settle heavy in my chest. I stare at the boarded windows again, picturing the broken glass scattered across the floor and that stupid note sitting on the bar.
This wasn’t random.
This was planned.
I slide off the stool and grab my keys. “Unbelievable.”
Wayne studies my face. “Don’t.”
I glance back at him. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t get that look.”
“What look?”
“That one.”
I smile sweetly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Rae.”
“What?”
“You’re about to go do something stupid.”
I tuck the keys into my hand. “I’m going to take a drive.”
Wayne closes his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
“I’m just gathering information.”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
I push the door open and step outside into the sunlight, the sound of hammers and power tools filling the air as the contractors keep working on the damage.
I climb into my truck and start the engine.
If Voss thinks he can push people around in this town and nobody’s going to push back, he picked the wrong bartender to piss off.
And I’m about to find out exactly how many places he’s been hitting.
I pull out of The Rust Nail parking lot with Wayne’s voice still ringing in my ears telling me not to do anything stupid.
That advice lasts exactly until the next stop sign.
Because once the idea settles in my brain, it refuses to leave. If Voss has been leaning on other businesses around here, someone has to know something. This town isn’t that big, and people talk whether they mean to or not. The trick is figuring out who knows something useful and who’s just repeating rumors they heard from somebody’s cousin’s barber.
The first place that comes to mind is Murphy’s Hardware.
Murphy’s shop sits on the corner just off Main Street, the same red brick building it’s been in for decades. The windows are big and dusty, and the bell above the door still jingles every time someone walks in. It’s the kind of place that smells like motor oil, fertilizer, and sawdust no matter what time of year it is.
If anyone has heard something about Voss, it’ll be Murphy.
I park out front and push open the door.
The bell jingles overhead.
Murphy looks up from behind the counter immediately. He’s got a tape measure in one hand and a pencil tucked behind his ear, and his gray hair sticks up in the back like he’s been running his hands through it all morning.
