Ten minutes later, he was walking toward the empty space where the statue once stood.Once he reached it, he did a three-sixty, noting the neighbors across the street on three sides and the school behind him.Whoever took the statue had brass stones; that much was for sure.There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t visible from at least one of those houses.Which meant there was likely a witness.Or perhaps one of those homeowners was responsible.How else could you haul off a half-ton brass statue and no one be the wiser?
Slade had considered heading over to Walker Demo to talk to his cousins, see if they could help make sense of how someone could move the statue, but paying a visit to each of those residents was probably a better place to start.He could canvass the area, talk to people, and see if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary.Surely if there’d been any heavy equipment used, someone would’ve heard something.
As he headed for the sidewalk and the row of neatly kept houses opposite the school, he found himself wishing someone would run out and say, “Oops.We forgot.We sold the stupid statue.Our bad.”
Unfortunately, no one came out, so he kept going.
He started from the end and worked his way down.Eighteen houses total faced the school directly.Fourteen of those houses had no answer.Made sense.Mid-morning on a Thursday.They were likely at work.That, or they ignored the doorbell because they thought theirno solicitationsign spoke for itself.
At house number three, he was greeted by a grumpy old man who had no comment.That was what he said.Verbatim.
At house number six, he was greeted by a teenage girl who claimed she was just home to grab homework for third period and was going right back.And no, she had no idea who might’ve taken the statue.
At house number eleven, Slade thought he hit pay dirt when the elderly woman wandered outside, claiming she knew exactly who took the statue.His hope dwindled when she insisted it was one of the sheriff’s deputies because he was secretly an alien in disguise.Slade thought he smelled whiskey on her breath.
Last but not least, at house number seventeen, the one directly across from where the mustang usually stood proudly, he spoke to a man who looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, and tired from a strenuous workout.“Sorry, man.I honestly thought it was still there.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah.Story of his life.
“Thanks,” he told the guy as he started back down the driveway.
“Hey!Are you related to Spencer?”
Slade stopped and turned.“Yeah,” he admitted grudgingly.
The guy smiled.“Cool.I haven’t seen him since high school.”His grin widened.“We kinda had a thing back then.”
A thing?Slade was about to tell him he was likely one of a few dozen, but he refrained.
“If you see him, tell him I said hello.”
“Will do,” Slade lied, waving a hand and continuing toward his truck.
The morning had been bad enough, the last thing he wanted to do was think about his backstabbing asshole of a brother.
Now that the task force had cleanedout all the articles and photographs from the apartment, Archer didn’t have any reason to go over there.Since he wasn’t quite an official member of the task force—paperwork and all that—he didn’t have a reason to go there, either.But he was tired of sitting around the B&B waiting for something to do.
Okay, so that was only partially true.He didn’t mind it so much since he’d spent the better part of the morning listening to Bailey tell the story of how she ended up with Rafe and Holt.It was interesting, he’d give her that much.
Now that she was finished, he didn’t want to sit idly anymore, so he decided to make the most of a morning off.
At least that was what he told himself as he strolled across Walker Park toward the downtown businesses on the other side.He pretended he didn’t have a destination in mind, but that only lasted so long.As soon as he crossed Main Street, he was forced to make a decision.Go into the bookstore and strike up a conversation with Violet, or slip between the buildings and head up to the second floor.
Right.As if it were really a choice.Sure, he liked Violet and all, but choosing between seeing her or seeing Spencer … kind of a no-brainer.
Archer didn’t miss a beat, aiming for the metal staircase.He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to pause at the top.He strolled right up to the real estate office, knocked on the door and then turned the knob to let himself in.
Spencer was on the phone, holding up a finger without bothering to look over.
“Yes.This afternoon.Three o’clock,” Spencer said into the phone.“On paper, the house has everything they’re looking for.They need a quick close.Is that something your clients could accommodate?”
Archer remained where he was, watching Spencer work.As had been the case since the first time he saw Spencer in the bookstore, his body responded to the man’s presence.It was an instant attraction on his part, and it hadn’t decreased even a fraction since that day.In fact, it was growing significantly more intense with every passing minute.That was likely due to him taking things slow, which caused the intense lust to simply build inside him.He figured at some point—probably in the very near future—it was going to burst, and his hard-earned self-control would be put to the test.
Kinda like it was right now.Just thinking about the guy made his dick hard.Those moments when he recalled kissing the man … yeah, it was going to be painful to walk in a few minutes.
Spencer’s dark brown hair was styled as though it had been cut just that morning, and for some reason, that made Archer want to run his fingers through it to muss it up a bit.And while he was at it, he wanted to tip Spencer’s head back so he could—
“That’s fantastic.They’ll be happy to know that,” Spencer continued.
