Page 48 of Property of Whiskey

“I don’t know.”

Twila’s gaze cuts to the zip tie still hanging from Kaylee’s wrist, then to my bloody palm.

I can practically watch the prosecution building itself behind her eyes. There ain’t a jury in Kentucky that wouldn’t convict me from where she’s standing.

I breathe out slowly. “She don’t know because she’s scared half to death.”

“Step away.”

“She needs help.”

“She’ll get help.”

“From who?”

“From me.”

“And then what? You call Daddy?”

Her eyes narrow. “Sheriff Dix.”

“Same man with reports disappearing under him?”

“Careful.”

“Strike a chord?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Neither do you.”

“I know exactly what I’m looking at.”

“No. You think you do.”

“You’re at Pearly Gates with a missing girl. You have her blood on your hands.”

“Because I picked her up.”

Twila shifts left, opening a better angle on Kaylee without giving me her back.

Even pissed, she’s thinking like a deputy.

“Why?”

“To get her the fuck out of here.”

“And you just happened to know where she was?”

“No.”

“Another coincidence?”

“Deputy…”

“How many?”

My hands stop moving.