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A photo of my nieces sits next to a screwdriver, a busted old police-beacon light, and a thick stack of folders. I grab up the folders and start sorting them according to the case type. Least I can do is help out around the station when I can.
“Did you hear?” Topper asks, picking up a donut dusted in powdered sugar. “Gary Custer ran the stop sign at the Shawnee bypass. Slick as snot outside and he started sliding. Mick Anderson tried to miss him but…” Topper chuckles. “He gunned the gas instead of hitting the brakes. Drunk as a skunk.”
Small town gossip means nothing to me, yet I glance back into the hallway at the jail cell use to lock up drunks from the bars on Main Street. In the off-season, our tiny force tends to mostly deal with local drunks and car accidents. “When did you turn him loose?”
Topper shrugs. “Never locked him up.”
I shake my head at the miscarriage of justice. Topper’s an idiot.
At the squeak of boots, I rotate in my chair. “Need a favor,” I tell Richter, who’s on his way out.
“Fill out a form.”
“I need a tail on Koty McGraw.”
It’s shitty and shady, sending someone else to watch out for her, but I need all eyes on her. No chances. No surprises. Not with Dakota.
“Tailing Koty McGraw?” Richter chuckles, his brown eyes drifting to The Corner Store. “What’d that girl do?”
A chuckle from Topper. “Girl’s got you twisted up, Montgomery.”
I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to grab the box of donuts and smash it in his fucking face. “Did I ask for your opinion, Topper?”
My dark scowl has Topper blanching.
A smile twitches Richter’s mustache. He nods. “Fill out the form. We’ll get it done.”
“Think you can spare the manpower?” I ask dryly, arching a brow in the direction of the donut-devouring deputies.
“Alright, point taken, Montgomery.” Richter blasts a warning at Topper before drilling a finger at me. “Paperwork.”
I grunt, swallowing down my objections. Paperwork will be the death of me. Although, if it’s this or running referee between the McGraw sisters, I’d take paperwork any day of the week.
Once again, my gaze drifts to The Corner Store.
The woman makes me insane. Dakota trying to charm her way into one little kiss. The flash of fire in her eyes as she goaded me to touch her. Christ, if she knew what I wanted to do to her, she’d think better of it.
You don’t care about me.Dakota’s sad voice echoes in my head.
Her thinking I don’t want her makes me feel like a fucking piece of shit.
She’s wrong.
Because, hell, I’ve done some scary things in my life, but protecting Dakota fucks with the beat of my heart. If anything happens to her on my watch…
I sigh and drag a hand down the stubble grating my jaw.
The military taught me preparation and calm, but nothing could have prepared me for just how on edge I am. Ever since Koty McGraw sweet-talked her way into my life all those years ago, I’ve been on edge.
Shoving aside the earlier events of this morning, I fill out the fucking paperwork, leave it on my desk for Richter to sign, and log Cassie’s missing persons case into the database. After I check Dakota’s tracker, making sure it’s working correctly and paired with my phone, I pull up the baby app I’ve downloaded.
I cast an eye around the office.
Christ, if anyone sees this…
Dakota’s twenty weeks today. Her baby is the size of a banana. The fruit comparison makes me chuckle as I scroll through the bright, cartoon images.
It’s not my right to get involved. But a little voice inside my head tells me I’m already involved. I couldn’t get out if I tried.
