Because the only bar option in town worth going to is On Wasted Ridge, but it’s owned by the club. I tend to avoid those businesses. The only one I’ve regretted is the tattoo shop because I would love to get one, but I’m not entirely sure I’d be welcome.
Ezra groans, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to go out?”
Jessi looks at Ezra for a moment before taking in the uncertainty written all over Lara’s face before glancing my way. “Yeah,” she breathes out, “I get what you’re asking. I just wanted to, you know, have a night.”
“What about a wine night at my place?” I can’t help but offer and my sister’s eyes light up again.
“Oh,” Ezra gushes, “charcuterie board.”
“And brownies,” Lara throws in.
My phone beeps and I cringe. “I gotta go. We need to pick a date and I’m ready.”
I share a look with Jessi because sooner rather than later Dad is going to summon us for a family dinner. I’m not sure if he does it because he believes people are peeking around their curtains and making a note of how often we go back home or what the reasoning is.
I’ll have to stop by Dad’s office this afternoon. Maybe if I stop by and talk him into lunch then I can put off a dinner which Jessi will be forced to attend. You’d think he would be proud of her for being a teacher, but he’s never been happy with any choice she’s ever made. It’s ridiculous.
He’s always been softer with me. It doesn’t make any sense, but if it means I can protect my sister’s peace, even if only a little bit, I’ll do what needs to be done.
Who knows, maybe I’ll hear something about whoever is behind the dog fighting rings. It’s a longshot, but it’s worth a little sleuthing.
At the very least, Dad will pay for lunch which has to count for something. Maybe.
CHAPTER 3
RHODES
The moment I park my Sheriff vehicle and step out, I take a deep breath. When I look around Dogwood Ridge, it looks very similar to Sweetwater Valley. Still, it feels like I shouldn’t be here, like I’m behind enemy lines or something.
It’s a holdover from the years when the rivalry between the two towns was fostered on sports fields by kids who didn’t know any better. Maybe there was more to it at one point. Maybe it is all about money and status or something equally ridiculous. Either way, it tends to be easier to stick on my side of the ridge line and in my county.
“Wilder,” is called out and I turn toward the sound to find Sheriff Lyons striding in my direction.
He’s not smiling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man smile, honestly, but he’s not scowling as deeply as I’ve seen in the past.
“Lyons,” I greet with a nod.
When he’s close enough, we share a handshake before heading into the building. I follow him toward Mayor Cowell’s office, and we both give a nod to his secretary who waves us in, as if it was even needed, considering Lyons’s strides don’t slow.
He knocks on the door and opens it when we hear from inside, “Come in.”
Edgar Cowell has a large, welcoming smile on his face, one which feels just as fake as it looks. Shaking his hand makes me feel slimy, butat the same time I know how to play the game and keep a polite smile on my face even if it feels a little brittle.
Once we all sit, Cowell’s secretary comes bustling in with three cups of coffee. I’m not surprised; she has been efficient and professional every time I’ve met with these men. She’s in and out in under thirty seconds and my coffee is exactly how I like it—black with sugar.
“Now,” Edgar steeples his fingers under his chin as he leans over his desk, an attempt at a power move which doesn’t land with me, “what’s going on with the dog fighting operation? Are there any leads?”
I share a look with Lyons who leans forward as I take a sip of my coffee. “I wish I had a better update,” Lyons begins, his voice grave, “but I don’t. We’ve both been in contact with the surrounding counties while spreading our deputies out as much as possible to keep eyes on the area.”
With a nod, I throw in my agreement, “I have my deputies checking out the hidey holes in the county, but there hasn’t been any sign of them. Lyons has been doing the same over here and the surrounding counties have as well.” Exasperation fills my words, “We don’t really know how many counties these people are moving between which means it’s hard to know where to look next. Even though we’ve alerted other counties, not everyone is able to devote time to something which might not even be a problem within their jurisdiction.”
“Exactly,” Lyons agrees while sitting back in his chair slightly. “They can keep their eyes open, but these people know how to hide out and keep a low profile. It’s the only reason they were able to set up shop in the area in the first place. They cross county lines and start up again, making it a lot harder to track.”
“Even if they don’t,” I muse, “if they lay low long enough, maybe raising new dogs considering the number they left behind when we found their fighting ring abandoned, or gaining new connections, it’s easier for them to start up again.”
Edgar’s shoulders drop and he nods while taking a few sips of his coffee. His eyebrows are drawn together like he’s thinking over the update, which is thinner than I would like it to be.
“Everyone is still whispering about the lack of movement on this. I thought it would die down, but it hasn’t,” he tells us.
