Beau says the name we’re both now thinking. “Guidry.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Beau
There’sno way I’m digging up a potential dead body without the authorities here. No way, no hell is the new guy to town plunging anything into the dirt only to give the lackluster sheriff ammo to use against me. Especially not with the woman who could probably stand to benefit the most from the potential body’s untimely demise.
Never mind the location we’ve found ourselves in…by going through the potential dead man’s bedroom.
If I was working this case as a detective?
I’d haul us off in a second.
That’s why I called the department, meaning to speak to another detective on call. Instead, I got the sheriff. I hope he gives us the time of day before he starts casting stones of accusation like I think he might.
I’m not too sure how he’ll respond to maybe-Guidry being some feet under. Then again, he could see it as sunshine to his day.
If Guidry is gone and buried beneath the disturbed dirt?
Well, maybe Sheriff Roland can breathe a sigh of relief over it, having no one to answer to.
Then again, I don’t know much about the sheriff or his relationships.
Still, I’d called the department, and after I’d been transferred to the man himself, I told him we might have something on Guidry.
That was twenty minutes ago.
Now I’m watching Kissy stand opposite me, looking down at the dirt. I don’t know how she’s feeling. If Guidry is gone? She’s free. So is Micah.
Unless whoever got him is worse.
But who else would benefit from Guidry’s death?
Then again, who’s to say Guidry is even under the ground?
My thoughts loop back to the dirt again.
We don’t say much until the sound of an approaching vehicle carries out to us.
Kissy turns to face the direction but is talking to me. “I’ll tell the sheriff that I knew about the map in Guidry’s room from one of my visits with Micah and that we just wanted to find Guidry so no more people come after me looking for him.”
“Which is true,” I point out. “The second part, at least.”
She nods.
Half an hour ago, I was dipping into my memories, all serious, while she was the one trying to comfort me.
She was warm and open and assuring. Compassionate and beautiful, sun on her face.
Now she’s tense.
Jaw tight.
A wave of guilt wallops me.
She shouldn’t be here.
She shouldn’t be worrying about any of this. Not with the life she’s already had to lead.
