Page 90 of Property of Whiskey

“You want a real one.”

My spine straightens against the post before I can stop it.

Whiskey sees it.

“Road checks. Loose cows. Fights. People calling your daddy before they call you.”

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

“Don’t I?”

“No.”

“You wanna prove you ain’t Sheriff Dix’s little girl wearing a badge.”

I jerk against the chain.

“Fuck you.”

“There it is.”

“You think because you watched me wrestle and flirted with me at a bar you know me?”

“Never said I know you.”

“You just told me why I’m doing my job.”

“I told you what it looks like.”

“It looks like multiple women disappeared in the past six months, and Kaylee nearly became another voluntary departure while everybody kept explaining the new cases away despite the older Pearly Gates pattern.”

“I give a shit.”

“You’re a suspect.”

“According to you.”

“According to evidence.”

“What evidence?”

“You.”

He laughs once. “Strong case.”

“I found you at Pearly Gates with Kaylee.”

“Trying to save her.”

“So you say.”

“You want me guilty because guilty makes this simple.”

That hits. I hate him for it. “You want me wrong because you wear the answer on your back.”

“Kings got secrets.”

“There.”