Something clicks inside of me. I suspected he was only interested in how this looked, especially the lack of someone being held accountable, but his words just solidify it. It’s the whispers he doesn’t like and how they could be turned back on him.
“It’s not just you at risk here, Sheriff,” Edgar continues while shooting a look at Lyons. “There needs to be movement on this.”
Even though Edgar is sitting behind the mayor’s desk, where his gold name plate is gleaming and polished to perfection, he comes off as weak. I’m thankful, again, that he’s not my mayor and I don’t answer to him.
My appearance at this meeting is a courtesy to Lyons. I’m more than willing to work with the Sheriff. He’s a stoic hard ass, but I know he does care about the safety of those in his county. Even if he can’t seem to do a damn thing about the motorcycle club which practically runs Dogwood Ridge.
“We can’t move on information or evidence we don’t have,” Lyons grits the words out through his teeth.
I can’t say I don’t understand his frustration; I completely get it.
“You couldn’t run down anything on the property?” Edgar’s question has me sitting back in my chair because it’s bold as fuck considering the man hasn’t worn a badge and sure as fuck isn’t out in a cruiser looking for the people who are behind this.
Lyons pinches the bridge of his nose. “They rented the house and the land. All the identification was fake, and it was all paid for in cash. There’s nothing to track there.”
“They paid over cost for the rent,” I point out remembering that tidbit from the information Lyons sent my way. “People aren’t going to turn that down, not in this economy.”
“Yeah,” Edgar grunts and cuts his eyes away from me.
If he wants to say something, he can. It’s not my town where half the economy has ties to a motorcycle club.
That’s all him.
“It’s the same pattern we’ve found in other counties. But until they pop their heads up and we get a bead on them, we’re out of luck. Someone could call in with information, but it’s a long shot,” the frustration in Lyons’s voice is clear to hear as he huffs and rolls his eyes.
He’s not wrong. The likelihood of someone calling in a tip which leads somewhere is slim, but it could happen. I won’t be holding my breath.
“I’ll take a miracle at this point,” Edgar grumbles.
What I don’t say, what the look I share with Lyons screams, is that it might take something like that. Sure, we can keep our eyes and ears open. We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, but even then, without anything to go on, the investigation can only last so long.
That’s the truth of it.
We’ve spread the information we have. Whoever is behind the ring might not even get picked up in this county. They might not originate from it either.
“Look,” I lean forward, “we’ve spread the information. Now it’s a matter of waiting to see where they pop up next. The likelihood of them just stopping is small. And if they cross state lines?” I click my tongue. “That’s another issue and makes things even more difficult.”
“Right,” Lyons’s agrees with me easily.
Edgarruns his hand over his jaw and nods before standing up. I do the same along with Raymond. He shakes both of our hands. “You should make sure you grab a piece of the Orange Creamsicle Moonshine Cake at Dolly’s before you leave town,” he suggests to me. “They’re famous for it.”
I perk up and nod, “That sounds delicious. I think I will. I saw it as I came in,” I assure him, not wanting him to feel obligated to give me directions or something.
“I’ll be heading back to the station,” Lyons chuckles.
“Well, me too,” I defend myself with a grin, “I’ll just be making a stop on the way.”
Both men laugh as Lyons swings open the mayor’s office door. I look through the doorway to see a gorgeous woman standing at the secretary’s desk, her fingers twisting together like she’s nervous. Her hair, a riot of brown tones, as it falls around her and down her back, a thick mane which I’m desperate to run my fingers through.
She looks up at me and our eyes lock. The gold flecks in her brown eyes catch the light and fucking glow. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. There’s something warm about her, something that makes me want to step closer. She’s wearing a simple dress with long sleeves and a high neckline. But her legs are covered in bright tights which almost look out of place.
“Helen,” Edgar greets pleasantly, but there’s something plastic about it. I barely swallow down the growl threatening to slip past my lips when she breaks our eye contact and looks toward the mayor.
My heart is pounding against the inside of my chest, and I swallow hard to try and fight against the way my mouth has gone suddenly dry.
I want to hear her laugh.
It’s the oddest thought, the strangest desire I’ve ever had upon seeing a woman for the first time, but it rings through me all the same.
