“But he’s so nice!” I protested.
“Miss Graves, I’ve been in this world a long time. You’d be surprised how often people say that exact thing when they find out what heinous crime their neighbor committed.But he’s so nice. He mowed my lawn. I never suspected.” Sherwood set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers. “It’s my job to suspect, so that’s what I do. I suspect everyone.”
Now I felt slightly less miffed about his suspicious eyes, but I still didn’t think Mateo was behind any of this. “Psycho stalkers don’t have dimples like that. They just don’t.”
Jeremiah turned his head slowly to look at me. “No,” he reprimanded curtly, like I was a misbehaving puppy.
Sherwood’s mustache trembled as if he were holding back a laugh. “Dimples notwithstanding, I’ll be talking to Mateo and everyone else at the ranch. But let’s start with you, Miss Graves.”
Oh, hell.
“Me?” The word was barely a squeak. The sheriff’ssteely blue eyes narrowed on me again, and I cleared my throat. “What about me?”
“Tell me about your life in New York. What did you do for work? Who did you associate with? Is there anyone you can think of who would want to harm you? An ex-boyfriend, maybe?”
I chewed my lip, thinking. Enemies? No. I had dangerous information, thanks to Benny—information I had no business having. That was why he wanted me out of New York. But the postcards had started a year before I’d even met Benny. This had nothing to do with him. He’d protected me, sent me far away from his mess. I wasn’t going to betray him and drag him into mine now.
“I can’t think of anyone who would want to harm me. I don’t have enemies, really. I’m too busy working to get into shit I shouldn’t be in. I’m kind of a jack of all trades, you know? I have a lot of different jobs. I model a little, mostly catalogues and some fit modeling?—”
“Fit modeling?” Sherwood interrupted.
“I stand there for eight hours a day while designers fit the clothing to different body shapes. It’s exhausting and not very prestigious, but it pays pretty well.”
He nodded. “What else?”
I licked my lips. “I’m a cam girl. That’s where most of my money comes from.” I crossed my hands over my lap, meeting the sheriff’s gaze squarely. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was or how I paid my bills, but that didn’t meanI enjoyed talking about it with people who thought it gave them permission to treat me like garbage. Hopefully the sheriff wasn’t one of those people.
“A cam girl.” He leaned forward, looking up at me from beneath his furrowed bushy brows. “Miss Graves, do you mean to tell me you’re the first person in the history of the world’s oldest profession to not have a single enemy? That doesn’t seem likely.”
My head tipped sideways. “Prostitution is illegal, Sheriff. I’m a cam girl. Think of it like a stripper, but online. Subscribers can look but they can’t touch. And yes, Iamtelling you that my regular subscribers have never threatened me or made me fear for my safety. But of course there are people who harass me. I’m a woman on the internet. They’re just trolls using anonymous accounts. I have no idea who they are.”
Jeremiah tapped his fingertips on his knee like he was thinking through something. “Wearing a mask isn’t enough to protect your identity from someone determined enough to find you. Did you ever meet one of your subs in person?”
My head whipped toward him. “I didn’t tell you I wore a mask,” I said slowly.
Jeremiah stared back at me. “If one of your subs?—”
“Shutup,” I hissed. My eyes burned. He knew. He fuckingknew.
Jeremiah’s gaze faltered beneath the accusation in mine. He dragged a hand through his hair and nodded.
I gripped the armrests with shaking hands and turned back to Sheriff Sherwood. “My top subscriber didn’t find out who I was. I found out whohewas.” Honestly, I couldn’t be surprised people were after Benny. He never knew how to shut up. “So, yes, we met in person and started dating. But it’s not him. There’s just no way.” Benny was as gentle as a butterfly. He wouldn’t send those postcards, much less trick me into coming to Mercy River. That didn’t make sense at all. His problems were the reason I was here.
The sheriff exchanged a glance with Jeremiah. It was clear that neither one believed me. “All right,” Sherwood said finally. “Can you think of anything else I should know?”
But I was done. Still shaking with fury, I shoved back my chair with a loud scrape and pushed to my feet. “Why don’t you ask Jeremiah? It seems like he knows everything anyway.”
I stormed out. If I stayed a second longer, I’d be forced to punch Jeremiah in his beautiful, lying mouth.
The good thingabout running out of clean clothes and being forced to wear my going-out dress was that it was an excellent dress for flouncing. I stomped along thecrumbling brick sidewalk, the short skirt bouncing against my thighs with every furious step.
“Get in the truck, Lennon.”
God, that voice. Deep and steady. The same voice that had pulled me out of a panic attack only hours ago. I had trusted that voice.
I glanced up. Jeremiah was driving on the wrong side of Main Street at two miles an hour, keeping pace with my angry stride. I stopped, and he hit the brakes.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, you lying sack of shit.”
