Chapter 15

I stompthrough the front door and find Griz on the couch, reading a floral-covered paperback with big, bold purple letters that reads: "Marriage Assault."

"Where's Ace?"

"Fuck if I know." He lowers the book just enough to give me an annoyed glare. "What's gotten your panties in a pucker?"

"You're in everyone's business." He has to know at least something about Laney that I don't. It's not in his nature to be out of the loop. I put my hands on my hips and square off with him. "Did Bea Harper happen to fly into town with our newest resident in tow?"

"That's a very specific question," he drawls out. "Sounds like you already have the answer. So what the hell are you really askin', Grant?"

Raising my hands, I rest them on top of my head like I've just run miles and need my lungs to open up and make room for air. "The last time Bea fucking Harper decided to rustle shit up in this town, people ended up out of sorts and dead." As soon as I say it, I regret it. I stopped being angry at Fiona for going out on that call, but I'm not even close to forgetting.

"There are three girls who have gone missing in this county in the last six months and not a single person is asking the one question they should be," she said, biting on the end of her coffee stirrer.

"I'll bite," I teased with a smile, kicking my feet up on the desk. "What's the question?"

She gave me that signature 'don't be a prick' look. "Why here?" Standing up, she closed my door. "I've been looking into inconsistencies with property ownership in places that sit on city borders between Fiasco, Victory, and Montgomery. There are at least three of them that have sold in the past year."

"Fi, when do you have time to be looking into this? You're patrol, not detective." Not to mention, any time that she wasn't at work, she was either bowling with her old man or spending time with me. Not that anyone but me knew about the time we'd been spending together.

"I remember a long time ago, my mom talking about how they were always buying up properties in threes to utilize as relocation options. A single property purchase that wasn't used right away would normally look suspicious, so they bought in bulk. Like an investor might."

"So you think this relates . . . how? I'm not following."

"Grant, if we haven't found bodies, then they're still alive, being kept somewhere that nobody ever planned to look."

She looked at me with sheer excitement. The thrill of this line of work was always there for her. Before she ever considered the academy, she was hooked.

I was anxious about the idea. Without substantial evidence to even look in the direction she was suggesting... "It's a helluva reach, Fi."

"Yeah, but it's a starting point."

A starting point. I needed to know, why here? "I'm asking, what's Laney's story?"

"I think that story needs to come from her," Griz says.

Ace comes in from his office and looks between our grandfather and me. "What am I walking into right now?"

"I don't like being in the dark about this. What's going on with a woman being dropped on our front porch in the middle of the night by Bea fucking Harper?"

He ignores the tone in my voice as he walks toward the bar on the other side of the room, pulls out three glasses, and then chips out three rocks from the block of ice that's kept in the bar freezer. Each with a couple of fingers high, he gives one to Griz, and then to me. "You are left out of certain things because you like to play above the line, baby brother. Your moral compass doesn't have any fault points. You know that when you were PD, we didn't want to make any lines muddled."

"No shit, Ace. But I haven't been a cop in years." I take a swig of the bourbon and I can tell right away it's higher proof than the typical year he likes.

"You sure about that? You've been grilling Laney like you still are."

I hold up my glass to the light and then take a smell as I flip him off with my free hand.

With a laugh, he shakes his head. "I don't know all that much more than you. Laney isn't exactly an open book, despite the word vomit at dinner. But yeah, Bea Harper dropped her here in the middle of the night. You're right about that. Told her she could start fresh here, and now I have a favor to cash in whenever I might need it." With his hand slung in his pocket, my brother looks like a businessman. Buttoned up and always ready to negotiate.

"Why go to you and not me?"

He sips his bourbon. "You're really asking why someone would come to me and not the cop in the family? Wouldn't that be self-explanatory?"

"So she's off the books, then?"

The stoic expression that my brother has mastered gives away nothing. "I don't think she's here to cause any trouble." He looks over at Griz. They have a silent exchange that pisses me off, like they used to have when Lincoln and I were younger. "I know that you know what it feels like to want to start over. And to do it without having to answer a bunch of questions."

My gut sinks, and I immediately feel like he just put me in my place. My brother has a way of doing that. It's a talent. When an entire town wanted to be in my business, more than anything, I didn't want to have to explain why making barrels instead of being a cop anymore was the only thing that got me out of bed.

I finish the bourbon in my glass and walk it into the kitchen. I don't need to tell him he's right. "It's been a long time since I've seen this kind of life out of you, Grant," Griz says as he crosses the threshold.

"It hasn't been that long since you've seen me annoyed, Griz. Happened last week when you decided to tell my guys to keep the barrels burning for longer than they should."

Swatting at the air in front of him, he pulls a bottle from one of the lower cabinets. "You want to play dumb? That's fine." He uncorks the unmarked bottle. "Maybe you don't see it because you're trying to fight it, but I can see when one of my boys sees something they want."

I'm not interested in Griz telling me all the ways he's reading a situation so I leave my glass on the counter, clap my hand on his shoulder, and lean in when I tell him, "Might want to switch to water, old man."

I'm halfway out the door when I hear him say, "Might want to stop being such a tight ass, Grant." Then he shouts after me, "Pretty things like that don't just show up and then stick around."

And all I can do is worry about what would happen if she does.

Julep's waiting for me on my front porch, and I bend over to scratch the top of her head. "You behave while I was gone?"

She gives me a little growl and leans into me. I could spend hours scratching the spot on the back of her neck where the chestnut brown meets the gray and white speckles of her neck, and it still wouldn't be enough. "What are you doing out here in the heat anyway?"

I look over my shoulder and see her singing to herself in the window, moving around the cottage like she's tidying up. There's a lightness to Laney in this moment, and I can't stop myself from studying the way she rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck while she pulls her long hair up into a messy bun.

"What's your story, Laney Young?" I say out loud, knowing full well she's not going to tell me. I shouldn't be so interested. I should chalk it all up to what it is: a new person in town. But she's got my attention. In too many ways that I'll never admit.