Reluctantly, I nodded.
“Fine,” I muttered. “But the second something feels off, we pull the plug. I don’t care what the plan is. She comes first.”
August inclined his head. “Of course.”
The tension in the room loosened and, almost immediately, the conversation shifted. August started to outline details, Fox chimed in about security placements, and Graham mentioned a few psychological patterns Anderson tended to follow.
Reid stepped closer to the counter, asking questions about timing and response windows.
Their voices blended together after a while because my focus had narrowed to one thing.
Palmer.
She had returned to her seat at the table, the white card still resting near her hand. She wasn’t looking at it anymore. Instead, she watched my brothers talk, her brow slightly furrowed as she listened.
A slow, cold promise settled into my bones as I looked at her.
I would let them make their plan.
I would let them set their trap.
But if Amos Anderson came anywhere near Palmer—I would do whatever it took to make sure he never walked away from it.
38
Roman
Itookaslowsipfrom the bottle of beer in my hand, the familiar taste from the local brewery sliding down my throat. Normally it was one of my favorites. Tonight, even that wasn’t enough to lift my spirits.
A crowd of concerned citizens had gathered around me, talking my ears off.
I was used to this sort of thing. There were always people in town who had something to complain about. As the fire chief, I was one of the town officials expected to listen. Most days, I didn’t mind it. But tonight? Tonight was a lot.
Everyone seemed to be talking at once—yapping about the fire damage, strange things they thought they’d seen, neighbors they didn’t like who they were convinced must be behind the arsons. I did my best to placate them, offering reassuring nods and the same calm explanations I’d repeated a hundred times this past week.
“We’re doing everything we can,” I told them. “We’re investigating every lead.”
“We’re safe, right, Chief?” Al Humphry, the owner of a bakery near Latte Pages, asked.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “You’re safe.”
Mrs. Leary, a particularly paranoid old woman, had been chewing me out for a solid two minutes when Nolan suddenly stepped into the fray.
He flashed the small group his warm, friendly grin. “Sorry to interrupt, folks.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “But I need to speak with the fire chief for a bit.”
Mrs. Leary scowled but didn’t argue. The rest of the group began to drift away, conversations already starting up between them as they dispersed.
Nolan guided me away from the crowd, steering me toward the bar along the far wall. The moment we were out of earshot, my shoulders slumped.
“Thanks for that,” I muttered, lifting the bottle to my mouth and draining the rest of the beer in one long swallow.
Nolan chuckled. “You can thank me by getting me a rum and Coke.”
I snorted softly but nodded, stepping up to the bar. I grabbed another beer for myself and ordered Nolan’s drink before joining him off to the side of the room.
“Gotta love being the fire chief in a small town,” Nolan mused, shaking his head as he took the glass from me.
“Comes with the territory.” I sighed.
