I’m working at the tiny round table in the corner, a takeout order from the diner taking up most of the space and my laptop and notebook taking up the rest. Grayson walks over and drops into the chair across from me, snagging a fry before leaning back in his chair.
“Hey, that’s my dinner,” I say, pulling my food as far away from him as I can given the circumstances, which unfortunately is still within reach of those long arms.
Long, muscle-y arms.
Am I paying you to droll over a set of biceps or to track down The Witch?
Grayson eats the fry in two bites, completely unrepentant. “So, what are you thinking so far?”
“I’m thinking I should have asked for bacon fries instead of regular.”
He ignores me. “I see that little hamster wheel turning in your head. What are you thinking?”
I flip my notebook over, hiding my notes. “Hamster wheel?”
“That’s what it looks like when you think real hard. Like a teeny little rodent is running around and around on a squeaky wheel.”
First Dani’s assessment of me and now Grayson’s. “Don’t you have some mud to roll around in?” I say, turning my notebook back over and putting it in my lap.
“Pig jokes. Hilarious.” He goes for another fry. I try to intercept him, but when my fingers brush his, an almost electric feeling has me jerking my hand away. With a grin, he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.
I should be annoyed with him for taking my food, but there’s something about the way his eyes sparkle at me that makes me feel light-headed.
Stupid Sally and her stupid crush.
“Come on, Agent Jensen,” Grayson says. “What did you learn today?”
“That information, Mr. Michaels, is for law enforcement only.”
“I’m your partner,” he says softly, and when I glance up, his face is the most serious I’ve seen it since I ordered the BLT sandwich. “I can help if you’ll let me.”
I move my notebook back to the table and snatch up a couple fries before he can get snacky again. He is the only other person in Farrowville who knows what we’re really doing here. It can’t hurt to run my theory past him.
Especially not when it’s a good theory. Like…it’s possible I’ve just cracked the case wide open on day one. Cressida is going to be pinning a medal to my uniform before I know it. She’ll be all, “Agent Jensen, please tell all these less remarkable agents exactly how you sussed out The Witch despite that extreme layer of hair gel he was using as a clever disguise,” and I’ll be like, “Well, Captain, hair gel has never stopped me from seeking the truth,” and then?—
Grayson, I realize, is sitting there patiently waiting for me to speak with one eye on my burger. The faux-Tiffany lamp above us casts warm, golden light over him, turning him from regular sexy guy to a Renaissance painting:Hot Pig Shifter Contemplates Someone Else’s Dinner.
I clear my throat. “Who are we looking for?”
“Uh…The Witch? Criminal mastermind? Long-time evil doer?”
“That’s not…” I sigh. “I mean, what’s one thing we can probably assume about her?”
To his credit, he tears his gaze away from my dinner to ponder the question. “I assume we’re using ‘her’ as a placeholder since we don’t know for sure she’s a woman. And we don’t know what she looks like, or what she’ll be doing here. But…” He rubs his chin with the knuckles of one hand. “But she’s probably not someone the regulars on the circuit know, right? We think she’s targeting the show at random?”
Huh. That was exactly what I had been thinking.
“Right. The Witch will be new to pig showing. And guess who said he had just started showing pigs?”
“Reg?”
“Yes!” A little jolt of excitement coursed through me as I turned my laptop screen to face him. This was what I loved most about my job—putting the pieces together until the whole puzzle clicked into place. “And look at this. I’ve been looking into Reg’sbackground, and he has never built a successful app. It appears he burned through multiple rounds of cash from his father until he was finally cut off and had to start fending for himself. Look at the date of his last business failure.”
Grayson leans forward and peers at the screen. “Ten years ago. Whoa. Right before The Witch committed her first attack.”
“Yep.” I spin my laptop back around and lean back in my chair. “It all fits. I think he’s the guy.”
But Grayson won’t quite meet my eyes. “I mean…it doeslooklike maybe he’s the guy.”
