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We’re all standing in the middle of the street at this point, and the sheriff’s car is completely blocking the center of the road. His engine is still on, and a couple of neighbors are peeking outside.
“Not here,” she says. “Park in my driveway and come inside, Peterson. I’ll make tea.”
With that, she turns and marches toward the house.
“Neil, bring me my keys.”
Sheriff Peterson looks at me and then to Finley, and then back to me. He seems to silently be asking what I think he should do, and it’s really kind of a weird thing. Finally, I just shake my head and shrug.
“Well, you heard the woman,” I say.
I don’t really know what else to do.
I head toward the house and pray for my life. I hope the sheriff is actually willing to listen to what she has to say, and most of all, I hope he doesn’t shoot me in the back.
Chapter Eleven
Finley
I’m shaking as I pour the tea.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Have I really done this? Have I really invited the damn sheriff inside for mid-morning tea? What the hell is wrong with me? I fill my electric kettle with water and plug it into the wall, and then I stare at it for a second.
“Hey,” Neil comes up behind me, but he doesn’t reach for me or hug me. I miss his touch already, but I know why he’s not touching me. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and he doesn’t want to
give the sheriff anything to use against us.
Right now, though, I don’t care.
I turn around, and I reach for him, pulling him close.
I meant what I said.
I meant it when I said I thought we were dating.
Oh, I know that we aren’t. Not really. I know this entire situation is messy and fucked up. I get it. Still, he’s the one guy I’ve always been drawn to and the one guy I’ve never been supposed to have.
Somehow, that just makes me want him even more.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says.
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m right. Finley, before I came to you, I didn’t have a chance at finding answers. I never would have thought about the carts being moved. Now we actually have a real shot at finding Sammy’s true killer, and it’s all thanks to you.”
A knock at the door interrupts our embrace, and I pull away from Neil, kiss him quickly, and head to the front door.
Sheriff Peterson is there now. He looks uncomfortable and tired and honestly, he’s starting to look, well, old.
He’s always been considered to be a young, hip cop. Part of that is because he used to spend a lot of time with high schoolers, especially when Sammy was one. Now, things are different. His son isn’t around anymore and if I had to venture a guess, I’d say that the high schoolers just remind him of everything he’s lost.
“Please come in,” I force myself to say, and I step aside so he can enter my home. In the city, it might be weird to invite a cop into your house, especially one you’re only mildly acquainted with.
In Kurlin, things are different.
I guarantee every single person on my street knows exactly where Sheriff Peterson is right now, and the sheriff is fully aware of this fact. If he thinks entering someone’s house is dangerous, I’d venture a guess that he feels a little better knowing that there’s no way Neil or I could get away with harassing or hurting him.
