“What would teenagers do if they couldn’t get into some kind of trouble?” It was a rhetorical question, and we both let out low chuckles. “I’d rather them be safe while doing stupid things than just being plain stupid.”
Lyons grunted, “I hear you.” Then we both sobered because he wasn’t done. “Now, they’re not so sure the reports and rumors are justabout kids blowing off steam. Every time a deputy has driven out near there, they haven’t seen any activity.”
My gut tightened when he said that. Without thinking, I mused, “Could any of those deputies be involved?”
“Not my monkeys, not my department,” he responded, his tone far too flippant for my tastes. I bristled but kept my mouth shut.
Making any accusation about another county’s sheriff office was dangerous waters and we both knew it. Even if we were thinking the same thing while knowing it was none of our damn business.
Except for the fact that we both wear the same badge and take an oath to uphold the laws of our state. Letting the thought, the possibility, go was difficult, but I swallowed down my questions because I knew Lyons wouldn’t know anything.
“What’s the plan?” I couldn’t help myself and asked, needing to know what kind of resources were needed while already trying to figure out ways to help.
“Nothing right now,” his voice gave away exactly how he felt about his answer.
Lyons hated it and he didn’t agree with it. But he also couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“They’re going to keep an eye out for activity and see about a warrant.” Before I could say a word about how fucking ridiculous that sounded and how it wasn’t a plan at all, Lyons blew out a breath. “Can’t say I agree with it, but I did let him know that my department, and yours, is ready to assist.” His voice changed, turning almost coy for a man who wears a badge, “Hope it’s okay.”
“Of course,” I was quick to assure him, “I’d be more than happy to help. If they have someone sitting on the place and need some more bodies, I’ll gladly take a shift.”
“I’ll let him know,”Lyons grumbles. He pauses for a moment before adding, “I just wanted to call and fill you in. That’s all I know though.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
He hung up without another word being spoken. It didn’t offend me in the least. It’s not like we were going to organize a fucking spa day together or a lunch date or some shit. We work the same job in two different counties, but we sure as fuck aren’t friends.
I’ve spent the last few days looking at maps and old pictures of the mill in question, hoping to see something, hoping to find some sort of pattern when I added it to the other information we’ve gathered about this operation, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
And I still haven’t reached out to Helen.
I should, I know I should. But I’ve been putting all of my energy into trying to figure out what is going on in McMinn County and to ensure no one has set up fucking dog fighting ring in my own backyard. Of course, nothing has come of it.
And it’s pissing me off.
Because now I’m no closer to putting whoever is behind this ring behind bars. And I haven’t seen or talked to Helen.
When someone breezes into my office without knocking, my head snaps up from where I’m scrunched over the map on my desk. I’m fully ready to rip into whoever has walked into my office without notice, but the words die on my tongue.
Because standing in front of me in all of her five-foot nothing glory is my grandmother, Betsy Wilder.
Even though she looks fit to be tied, I find myself smiling from ear to ear and standing up. I reach her in just a few strides because my legs are long and my office isn’t big.
She mightbe pissed at me, which is clear from the glare she’s giving me, but she doesn’t resist when I envelope her in my arms and give her a small squeeze.
“Ugh,” she groans like I’m crushing her, “let go of me you big brute.”
“G-Bets,” I greet her brightly, ignoring her attempt to get me to let her go. I rock from side to side and squeeze her just a little bit tighter.
“Stop rocking me,” she demands, “I’m going to get seasick.”
“Should have taken your Dramamine today,” I tease her.
G-Bets makes a tutting sound that would have had me running in the other direction when I was growing up. Because this woman is the only reason that I’m here today.
When I was three, my parents passed in a car accident involving a drunk driver and a rainy night. The only good thing was that I wasn’t in the car with them. If I had been, I wouldn’t have made it out of the accident either.
I’ll admit, there have been times in my life when I’ve wondered if it would have been a better turn of events. Then I wouldn’t have had so much pressure on my shoulders to succeed, to honor the life I was given, even though I never asked for it, to make my parents proud even though I could no longer remember them.
