Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
His brown eyes nearly bug out. “What? Seriously, what the hell is wrong with people in this goddamn town?”
“They’ve been getting away with it.” I don’t say it unkindly, and no shade is meant to be thrown the good sheriff’s way, but it’s the truth. “We’re going to fix that.”
“I really thought Hank was a one-off. I thought our fathers were all talk, you know? Just set in their ways. But, it’s clear they’re capable of more hatred than I gave them credit for.” He cocks his head to the side. “Speaking of… You speak to Terry and Leah yet?”
Terry and Leah.
Otherwise known as Dad and Mom.
“I haven’t spoken to Terry and Leah since I joined the military.” The mention of their names causes my anger to raise a few more levels. “The only reason I ever came back here was because of Brie. To see Brie and only Brie. Fuck Terry and Leah.”
“Right. Got it. Touchy subject.” He sighs. “Your dad took Jeremy Powers’ case.” Jax purses his lips together as he lets me take that statement in and chew it up for a minute. “He knows you were the arresting officer.”
“Lovely,” I grind out.
Larson and Larson Law Firm. Husband and wife power team. My fucking parents.
“Small towns are complicated,” Jax mutters, commiserating with me.
“I still stand by my arrest. Just like I still stand by your father’s.”
“I dropped the DUI charge,” he explains as though he’s sorry on my behalf, “but he still has to pay the tickets.”
“Lucky Mayor Bell.”
“I just…I worry you’re starting a war.”
“A war we’ll win. A war we have to win. Otherwise, those assholes will continue to treat people like Callan like scum. You really want that for this community?”
“No,” he says fiercely. “Sometimes I hate this job. I really do.”
“Well, it’s yours anyway. Brie’s too psychotic to be sheriff, and if I’m sheriff, we’d need a bigger jail. Time to man up, Bell, and remind them you’re the boss of this town.”
“You make it sound easy. Like it’s not political whatsoever.”
“You’re making it harder than it is.”
He stews on that for a bit and then packs up his shit to go. Before leaving, he drops a file on my desk. “Paul’s shop got broken into and vandalized again. That’s twice this year vandals have hit the BFB Daily Herald.”
“The Rainbow Vigilante?” I ask with a lifted brow.
“Doubtful. Something doesn’t sit right with these reports of vandalism. Paul is….well, you know how Paul is. He’s like Dad and Terry and Ned. I just feel like there’s more to it.”
I flip through the file and note that, for both instances, the security cameras conveniently malfunctioned during the hours of the break-in. Either that means it’s an inside job, or the criminal is extremely clever in knowing when to do their dirty work. I’m not one to believe in coincidences.
“I’m going to lock up here and patrol,” I assure him. “Who knows, maybe I’ll capture this guy. Maybe I’ll arrest Ned, the spitter. Maybe I’ll arrest my dad this time. The night’s young.”
Jax shakes his head. “Glad you’re here, Atlas, even if you make my job a thousand times more difficult. Complacency wasn’t getting us anywhere.”
As soon as he’s gone for the day, I leave the station and hop into my truck. I cruise around, looking for troublemakers. The country club parking lot is blocked off with barriers. Fuckers. I keep driving along Blue Shark Boulevard and hang a left on Caper Way. I drive past my neighborhood, looking to catch a peek of Callan, but end up uneventfully back on Main Street a few minutes later. I pass by the BFB Daily Herald, driving slow, and take in the darkened building.
Who even reads a newspaper anymore?
The guy’s probably vandalizing himself to get the insurance money. I make a note to put that in the file for Jax to read later. I’m coming to the intersection when a Lexus blows through the yellow light on First Street, going way too fast.
I flip on my lights and tear after the Lexus. The driver is either oblivious or deliberately ignoring me because they continue to drive until they reach the Red Hake Bed & Breakfast. I pull in behind them and park, and their horn begins to blare.
What the actual fuck?
I fling open my truck door, drawing my weapon at my side. “Step out of the vehicle,” I bark out. “Hands where I can see them.”
A woman climbs out, a roll of toilet paper in her hand, both arms raised in the air. “Officer, I can explain!”
Someone exits the B&B as I start to lower my gun. Imagine my surprise when I see a familiar, sunshiny young thing with the brightest yellow Docs I’ve ever seen.
“Are you going to shoot my sister?” Callan asks, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “Can I watch?”