Most of the neighborhoods around Eureka are clustered close to Main Street, where the courthouse is located, where I live above Mom’s Star Parlor, where El Rio is located, and where most of the thrift stores and the one small grocery store are nearby on Beach Street, which is across the courthouse square.

  Edward hops out of the bed of the truck, and Aiden leads us up the drive to the backyard, where a cute little henhouse is located behind a small fence made of chicken wire.

  Slipping plastic gloves over my hands, I take the old boot out of a large plastic bag and hold it down for Edward to get a good sniff. At once, his nose is to the ground, and he’s running all around the yard, sniffing up close to the coop, going around a tall pine tree near the back fence.

  I follow him, studying the soft ground around the chicken house, dropping to my knee and checking for prints or any sign of metal indentions. I don’t see anything.

  “You said it’s been a week since the burglary?”

  “A week today.”

  Nodding, I walk to the fence at the back of the property and rise on my tiptoes to try and look over it. I’m too short.

  “Is there an alley behind these houses?” I glance back at Aiden, and he’s watching me as intently as he did when we were at Terra’s.

  “I think there is.” He goes to a door in the chain-link fence leading to the wooden barrier.

  I follow him to a mostly grassy alley behind the fences. It’s large enough for walking or biking, but not big enough for a car or truck. Edward is right with me, furiously sniffing every blade of grass.

  “He should be able to pick up week-old clues.” My heart jumps to my throat when Edward barks loudly at a corner of the gate. “Jesus, Ed, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  I walk over to where he’s running up and down and drop to my knee again. The plastic gloves are still on my hands, and sure enough, just off the path in the soft mud near the fence, I spot two things.

  Whipping out my camera and a card, I drop a number one and two and take several shots of what I’ve found.

  “What is it?” Aiden is beside me, leaning close enough that I can smell his sexy, clean scent.

  “Just what we need.” I hold the longer grasses to the side so he can see the boot print right next to a partial indentation of square-nubbed tire treads. “Same ATV tires, and I’m guessing this print will match our boot.”

  “Amazing.” His voice is quiet admiration, and I can’t help a smile splitting my cheeks.

  “Edward’s my not-so-secret weapon.” I stand, and we’re face to face for the first time all day. My voice is softer. “I probably wouldn’t have found that without his nose.”

  Our eyes meet, and so much energy is in Aiden’s gaze, my stomach tightens. We’ve been in this position before, and I know where it can lead and how incredible it is. My bottom lip slips between my teeth, but he blinks and turns away.

  “Good work.” He puts his hands on his waist and goes through the gate. “We’d better head over to the Jones’ unless you need to do more here?”

  I remember to breathe and glance at my dog, who’s standing beside me waiting for his next orders. “I think Edward’s found everything we need.”

  Back in the truck, we’re headed to the outskirts of town. The radio is playing the local country music station softly. Willie Nelson is singing about his heroes always being cowboys.

  “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.” Aiden glances at me, and my throat tightens.

  Please don’t take everything back, I pray silently.

  “Okay?” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth again.

  His eyes go to my mouth then back to the road quickly, and he clears his throat. “Let me do all the talking with these guys. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. Clearly, you’re very good at your job. It’s more, these guys can be real shits, and I’d rather you listen and observe. Watch for anything you think we should follow up on.”

  Exhaling softly, I nod. “I can do that.”

  He turns onto a narrow road cutting through tall pine trees. Palmettos growing in sand line the shoulders on both sides of the road, which means this land isn’t good for farming or pretty much anything. I’m not sure if we’re even still in Eureka.

  “Here we go.”

  The dirt road ends at a double-wide trailer with an attached, screened-in front porch. Junk is scattered around the yard—old paint buckets, a broken laundry basket, and a tire with a little flower bed planted in the middle. The one bright spot.

  Three lawn chairs are arranged around a fire pit, and it looks like somebody had a party here last night from the number of beer cans scattered around them.

  An ancient El Camino is on cinder blocks off to one side, and a motorcycle is parked beside it. Behind the two is a covered area where a truck is stored along with something large under a tarp. My spidey senses are on high alert, and I wonder if it might be an old three-wheeler. It’s the exact place I’d expect to find one.

  “How old is Thad?” I ask quietly as we approach the front door.

  “Mid-to-late sixties.” Aiden lifts his hand and knocks sharply.

  “Does he have both his legs?”

  An older man in a dirty white T-shirt and jeans opens the door. “You’re back?”

  “Morning, Thad, I was hoping to catch Bull and Raif at home.”

  My eyes fly down to his bare feet—of which he has two. I exhale the breath I was holding. Like solving the case would be that easy. Edward is sniffing all around the property, but so far, he hasn’t barked or seemed to find any scents he recognizes.

  The old man’s eyes narrow on me. “Who’s this?”

  Aiden answers quickly. “Britt Bailey is working with us now. She’s Edna’s granddaughter.”

  “I remember you, little girl.” He scratches the white scruff on his chin. “That your dog?”

  I don’t say a word, and Aiden cuts in again. “He’s with me. Are the boys home? We won’t take much of your time.”

  He leans into the house and yells their names, and I take a step back, going to where Edward is sniffing around the El Camino.

  The slow thud of feet on the elevated porch precedes the appearance of two men I vaguely remember.

  Bull and Raif Jones are older than Aiden, which means they were way out of school before I started—if they even finished. They never spent much time in town, and I think Bull is a welder. I vaguely recall Raif going out with the fishing crews.

  “What’s up, Aiden?” Raif shakes his hand, but Bull stomps down the steps, walking straight to where I’m following Edward and itching to look under that canvas tarp.

  “What are you doing over here?” My heart jumps, and I look up to see Bull Jones scowling down at me.

  Bull is as tall as Aiden, with dark hair and menacing eyes. A tattoo is on his neck, and his bottom lip is sliced with a silver scar.

  I’m not sure I can get away without speaking, but Aiden walks to where we’re standing, with Raif right behind him. Raif has lighter hair and isn’t as tall as his brother. He’s also way less scary, with only one visible tattoo on his forearm and no apparent scars.

  “There’s been a series of burglaries and vandalism happening around town—” Aiden starts, and Bull’s quick to step to him.

  “So here you are, rounding up the usual suspects.” He’s practically nose-to-nose with Aiden, and my throat clenches.

  Aiden doesn’t back down, meeting Bull’s menacing glare with a pretty menacing glare of his own. Despite my nerves, I confess, it’s pretty hot to think he could take this guy if he wanted to fight.

  Aiden says one word. “No.”

  Seconds tick past with the two men locked in a staring contest, until Raif steps forward, catching his brother’s arm. “If you’re not here to arrest us, what do you want?”

  Bull allows his brother to pull him away, but he’s still seething.

  Aiden’s glare doesn’t break, and his voice is commanding. “We discovered evidence pointing to someone with a prosthesis on his right leg.”

  “What’s that mean? Prosthesis?”

  “It means he’s got a fake leg,” Raif answers his brother quietly.

  The exchange seems to make Bull angrier. “You can keep on looking, Sheriff. We’ve got all our body parts around here. Two good legs to walk on, and one to give you the ride of your life, little lady.”

  My brows shoot up, and a low growl comes from Aiden’s throat. “You’ll treat my officers with respect.”

  “Oh, don’t listen to him.” Raif steps between the two men, giving me a smile that’s faint but sweet. “He’s got a twisted sense of humor.”

  I kind of feel sorry for Raif trapped in this place, but I follow Aiden’s request and keep my mouth shut.

  “Our suspect was also driving a three-wheel ATV.”

  Raif turns his back to Bull, looking up at Aiden. “Those have been illegal as long as I’ve been alive.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’re not still around.” Aiden glances between the brothers. “Do you know anybody who fits that description?”

  “Nope,” Bull answers fast, and I figure he wouldn’t tell us even if he did.

  “I’ve come across a lot of folks with a lot of challenges, but nothing like that.” Raif shrugs, and I’m more inclined to believe him.

  “If you do come across anyone like that, give us a call.” Aiden hands Raif a card.

  “Will do, Sheriff.” He takes it, and Aiden hesitates a moment, looking around the area.

  Edward is finished sniffing, and he’s back to standing beside me. My hand is on his head, and even though I’m dying to look under that tarp, I wait to follow Aiden’s lead. We don’t have a search warrant, and at least two of the men here are on the defense.

  “All right, then.” Aiden takes a step towards the truck. “I appreciate your help.”

  “You said your name was Britt Bailey?” Bull’s black eyes are on me, and I immediately look to Aiden.

  “She’s Edna’s granddaughter.” Aiden answers his question.

  “She can’t speak for herself?”

  “If you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

  “I’ve got something to say.” Bull crosses his arms, his voice a taunt. “You’ve stepped in a big pile of shit bringing another Bailey on the force, Sheriff. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next thing you know, you’re out on your ass. Those people are not your friends.”

  Aiden’s jaw tightens. “And you are?”

  “I’ll tell you what you should be asking,” Bull continues. “Why does Edna Brewer want only her family in charge in Eureka? What secrets are they hiding?”

  A knot is in my throat, and my fingers start to tremble. The muscle in Aiden’s jaw moves, and I can tell he’s pissed. What I don’t know is if he’s pissed at Bull or if he’s pissed at me and my family. Would he believe what this guy is saying? I have no interest in taking Aiden’s job, and I definitely don’t want him out on his ass.

  Aiden’s tone is calm. “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then we’re headed back to the courthouse.”

  “You’d better watch your back, Sheriff.” Bull’s eyes are on me now, and my stomach is queasy. I thought he said he was done. “There’s things nobody knows about that family. Buncha redneck carnies acting like they’ve gone straight.”

  His words are as bad as a kick in the gut, and the anxiety in my chest twists harder. I remember why I left, and I wonder why I thought it was a good idea to come back. I’ll never be free of my family’s reputation, and I’m afraid to look at Aiden.

  I’m afraid he agrees.

  Aiden lowers the tailgate, helping Edward jump into the truck bed, and his voice gives nothing away. “Let’s go, Britt.”

  CHAPTER 9

  AIDEN

  Britt sits silently in the passenger seat across from me. Her eyes are on her camera, but she’s not scrolling through photos. She seems upset, and I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.

  After last night, I’ve done my best to be professional and give her space—even in the alley behind Holly’s house. We got too close, and all I could think about was how soft her lips were against mine. How easy it would be to take another hit. How no one was in that alley to see what we did.

  Just now at the Jones place, it took all my strength not to pop Bull Jones in the face for his crack about her family being shit. Like that asshole has any room to talk. Britt’s family is reckless and probably unhinged, but they’re not habitual offenders living on the outskirts of town in what amounts to a junkyard.

  We drive a little farther, and when her mood doesn’t change, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I have to make this right.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve made things uncomfortable between us. Last night, I mean.”

  Confusion lines her brow. “I really enjoyed last night.”

  I’m probably too happy to hear that. I look back at the road, but when I glance at her again, she still seems worried. “Is something else bothering you?”

  Her lips press together before she answers. “I was just thinking about what Bull said about my family and your job. I hope you don’t think he’s right. I’m not here to undermine you or get you fired.”

  She looks up at me again, and her green eyes are so open, my stomach tightens.

  Still, I won’t lie to her.

  “I’ve had my issues with Edna, and I’m sure you know your mother and I don’t see eye to eye.” She nods slowly, and I continue. “But I’m not worried about my position or anything Bull Jones said. I meant what I said last night. I think you’re doing a good job, and you deserve to be judged on your own merit.”

  The smallest hint of a smile touches her lips. “That means a lot to me.”

  We’re back at the courthouse, and I pull into my reserved space. “That being said, we need to keep our eye on those boys.”

  She smiles, wrinkling her nose in that way I’m starting to find irresistible. “They are pretty suspicious.”

  Edward hops out of the back, and we walk to the large, white-brick building. When we reach the door, she pauses. “Except for Raif. I think he’s trying.”

  My gut doesn’t agree. “I think when push comes to shove, he’ll be loyal to his family. His kind always is.”

  Her smile melts a little, but she doesn’t argue. She pats Edward’s head. “I’ll take him home and try talking to my mom again. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

  I hesitate, watching her go. Her usual lightness hasn’t fully returned, but at least we cleared the air.

  “Where do we stand on this vandalism?” Edna sits at her desk across from me, and we’re having our biweekly check-in, which has turned into a weekly check-in since the incidents started.

  “Britt turned up some pretty good evidence, so we have a solid lead.” Her eyebrows rise, and I’m ready to go on the record. “She’s a good addition to the team. You were right.”

  A smile breaks across Edna’s face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  She leans back in her chair still grinning. “My granddaughter has always made us proud. She’s smart as a whip… if a bit more of a perfectionist than I’d like.”

  I don’t say what I’m thinking, which is that Britt’s perfectionism is what distinguishes her from the rest of the kooks in her family.

  Instead, I maintain the peace. “She picked the right field for it.”

  “Yes,” Edna sighs, sitting forward. “However, it can be a burden to be so focused on the details in life. I’d like to see her a little more balanced, getting out more, having fun. Perhaps she might date. Your brother Adam was always a good friend. Is he seeing anyone?”

  A stab of anger hits me at the suggestion. “Adam’s a bit of a free spirit.”

  “Hmm…” Edna smiles. “I like that, and friendship is a solid foundation for a relationship. Maybe you could reintroduce them.”

  “No.” It comes out as a sharp retort, which I quickly try to smooth over. “Britt’s old enough to manage her own social life.”

  “Of course.” Edna exhales a light laugh. “Listen to me talking like a grandmother. My apologies, Sheriff.”

  “It’s okay.” The collar of my shirt feels too tight, and I have an unreasonable urge to punch my hippie brother in the junk, which is ridiculous.

  She lifts a sheet of paper off her desk. “Speaking of social lives, the Founder’s Day festival is ten days away. Is it possible we might have this burglary case wrapped up by then? Or is that wishful thinking?”

  Shaking off my irritation, I refocus my mind on business. “Perhaps you can help us. We’re looking for a male, mid-sixties, prosthetic leg, driving a three-wheel ATV. Know anyone in or around Eureka who fits that description?”

  Edna’s hazel eyes rise from her phone to mine. “A prosthetic leg?”

  “On the right side, at least missing a foot, possibly more.” Glancing down at my phone, I see a note from Doug reporting no leads, which frustrates me.

  “That is very specific.”

  “It’s all your granddaughter’s work. You’d think with that much information, we’d be able to put our finger on the perpetrator—and you’d be wrong.”

  “Why is that?” Edna watches me with a curious expression.

  “Three-wheel ATVs were outlawed thirty years ago, so sales records are all but gone. None of the clinics we’ve checked have records of an amputee, so we’re having to count on the memory of citizens who might know or remember someone who fits the description.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “So far, nothing’s turned up.”

  Edna exhales with a nod and stands, crossing her arms. “He can’t hide forever.” Her voice is quiet, and she walks to the window, looking out.

  My eyebrow arches. “Do you know anyone who fits that description?”

  “Not for certain.” She turns, arms still crossed, facing me. “Why would anyone destroy a pickle farm? Did he seem to be searching for something or someone in particular?”