“I’m not sure who’s going to be there, but you wouldn’t be crashing anything. You’re invited, Letty. I want you there.”
Her eyes searched mine. The pull between us was magnetic, and I knew she could feel it too. She smiled softly, her lashes fluttering for a moment before she blinked herself out of my gaze.
“Okay. I’ll try to stop by for a drink.” She winked as she walked past me. I reached my hand out slightly, just enough to graze it down her arm on her way past. I was rewarded when I heard her breath hitch.
I was playing with fire, and I liked it.
* * *
I grabbed the keys to one of the department’s undercover SUVs and strolled over to Matt’s desk.
“You ready?” I asked.
Matt and I needed to head into town and start asking questions. Lucky us, getting to spend eight straight hours attached at the hip and shoved in a car together. No wonder Chief pulled us aside to check our amicability first.
Besides the four break-ins I found, Matt had six more in the most recent three-month timeframe. That was ten break-ins in six months that were primarily underinvestigated. Shit like that pissed me off, but with the accusations rolling around in my head, I had to wonder if it was really a coincidence.
“Yup. Ready when you are.”
“I wouldn’t be standing here with keys in my hand if I wasn’t ready,” I replied.
Our first stop of the day was Geller’s Pharmacy. Not only was it the only business to be hit twice, but it also had the most danger associated with the thefts.
Ray Geller greeted us from behind the counter when we walked in. His gray hair was thinning with age, the lines in his face getting more pronounced as the years went by.
“Luke, Matt. Are you here on official business or personal?”
“Official business today. Do you have a few minutes to talk about the recent break-ins?” Monroe asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on back to my office.” He turned to his employee, Jamie, and asked him to cover the counter for a while.
Ray’s office reminded me of Wyatt’s. There was madness in the mess that only the person who worked with it understood. He shuffled some papers around and gestured for us to take a seat.
Ray walked us through the first break-in about six months back and then the one from the other night. Both times, a window had been smashed to gain entry. The thieves moved quickly, the blaring alarm not deterring them in the slightest. He had footage of both incidents that we reviewed. I would need to go through it again, look for more clues with a closer eye to the details, but at first glance, there wasn’t much to go on.
Matt and I left Ray an hour later and headed to the next business on our list.
We heard a similar story from Jeannie Roston. Calla Bay Candies didn’t have anything with street value, unless the perps were peddling rock candy as a new form of drug, but that didn’t prevent her storefront from being raided back in April. Another smashed window. Quick in-and-out cash grab. Jeannie’s camera footage looked like it was recorded in 1974, it was so damn grainy. There was nothing useful we could gain from it, but we obtained a copy of it as evidence. One thing was clear from the three events we’d investigated so far: they were definitely committed by the same small group. The two earlier incidents had three perpetrators, all in black clothes from head to toe, while the most recent one only showed two people.
Monroe and I headed out again after we wrapped up Jeannie’s interview. The only sound was the static of the radio as we drove along in silence.
“You hear anything from Winters about the Redmond case?” Monroe’s question broke that silence.
“Wes is doing his own investigation. It has nothing to do with me,” I replied.
“I thought you were working with him. Trying to dig up dirt to get Redmond off.”
“What the fuck makes you think that?”
My pulse quickened, but I didn’t let it show. He was clearly against Wes’s investigation, but what lengths would he go to to stop it? Would he threaten Scarlett for joining the fight?
“Just know you guys are close,” he said. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, not bothering to respond. “You think there’s any truth to the rumor that someone on the inside isn’t as clean as we’d like to believe?”
I could hear it in his voice. This act to seem casual.
Nothing to see here, just making conversation.
Bullshit. He was trying to figure out what I knew. What Wes knew. This wasn’t some chatty bullshit to pass the time while we drove to the next business on our list. He was fishing, but he wasn’t getting shit from me.
