“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, ma’am. But you need to turn around, it’s not safe here.”
She mumbles under her breath—quietly—but I still hear it, “Fuckin’ good boy complex, so proper and prim.”
“What?” I ask, my nostrils flaring with fury.
“Nothing, Sheriff,” she replies with a wide, plastic smile. “Thank you so much for your help, but I should be on my way.”
“Where are you going?” I ask as I grip the edge of her window, surely not expecting her to do something stupid.
But she does. The sexy minx hits the gas and drives off, the rear of her car swerving a bit, making me jump out of the way. She’s a fucking psycho! In my town!
I run to my cruiser and follow her.
“Boss,”the radio comes alive.
Not now.
“Yes, Jennica,” I reply anyway.
“There is a fight at Cat and Stallion. How far are you?”
As usual, the timing is perfect. Just perfect. “I’m still on the road with the stuck car.”
“Okay, I’ll check it out.”
“Be safe.”
“Always am.”
The radio hums and goes silent. I feel bad for sending her to resolve a fight, but I can never say it to her—Jennica wants me to treat her like any other cop, but I grew up in a small town, and a woman is still a woman, even if she’s wearing a uniform. And besides that, her husband will skin me alive if she ever comes home with a shiner under her eyes. I wouldn’t blame him. So I usually go to cases like that myself or send Jake. Well, used to send. But now I have to chase after a crazy fugitive on the muddy road instead of dealing with other problems.
There is no way she doesn’t see me, but she doesn’t take her foot off the pedal. Swerving every so often, she keeps driving ahead. I can press the gas harder, but she’ll press it too, and I don’t want her to end up in a ditch. I wonder where she’s going other than to prove me right by being a squatter in my sister’s ruined house.
And right on cue, we enter the opening in the woods. The gravel clacks under the tires as the car slows down.
The crazy lady hits the brakes only when she’s almostonthe porch. Her car screeches, gravel shooting up behind it. She jumps out of her tin and rushes inside the building, jumping over broken steps. Her ass jiggles in her tight, red pants every time her foot hits the ground, making my jaw squeeze tighter.
I park the cruiser, rush inside, and find her in the kitchen, clutching her phone in her hands and trying to press buttons.
When she sees me, she drops her phone on the floor and jumps back.
“You’re trespassing now!” She points her sharp, red-tipped finger at me. “Where is your warrant?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” My forehead wrinkles. “You just broke in to this house.”
“I didn’t break in to anything. I work here. I have the keys!” she shouts back.
That makes me pause. “What?”
“I have the keys,” she repeats quieter.
“I heard that,” I reply, annoyed as I stare at her, waiting for her to crack. “You said you work here. How?”
“I’m a designer. The owners hired me to fix the place,” she explains, picking her phone up from the floor and eyeing me warily.
“Huh.” Interesting, because I sure as fuck don’t know anything about that, and I know everything about my town. My friend and my sister sure would have told me if they hired someone to fix their fucking place.
“Huh?” She looks at me as if I’m a dumb fuck. “That’s all you gotta say? You scared me shitless, and all you say is ‘huh’?”
