Page 115 of Property of Whiskey

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

His hand curls into a fist.

“You were seen near old Pearly Gates.”

“Lots of people go out there.”

“My daughter’s patrol unit was found abandoned there.”

That’s news I need to fake a reaction to. She drove it there before I threw her into Bullet’s van. Still, hearing Amos say it makes the consequences feel more official.

His thumb rubs along the edge of his gun belt like he needs something solid beneath his hand.

“You know what ain’t been found?”

“Guessing your patience.”

“Twila.”

Her name cracks through him. He ain’t just Sheriff. He’s her father.

“She’s missing?”

His eyes search my face. “You touch her?”

I almost laugh. Bad idea.

Don’t.

“Depends what you mean.”

His hand moves toward his belt.

I straighten. “Easy.”

“You put one fucking hand on my daughter…”

“What? You’ll arrest me?”

“I’ll forget the cuffs.”

Now I know exactly where Twila gets it.

“Sheriff, threatening murder on my porch ain’t great procedure.”

“Neither is kidnapping a deputy.”

My shoulders tighten before I can stop them.

Amos catches it.

“You know something, Weller.”

“Dix, I don’t.”

His eyes burn into mine. “She’s all I got.”

That lands because I understand it too fucking well. My gaze cuts toward the hallway before I can stop myself.