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Without mentioning he’d been at the diner—simply saying he’d walked in on what was clearly a bad situation—Ryan relayed the incidents as he’d experienced them while the sheriff filled out a report. When he was done, Ryan added, “The vic doesn’t want to be identified, as I mentioned, but I’m hoping you can recover her money and keep the perps from striking again.”
“If I locate them, I’ll need her to ID them in a lineup.”
Ryan nodded. “I think she’ll agree to that. It’s anonymous. I could pick them out too. I don’t want to obstruct justice in any way. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to help out.”
“Hmm,” the sheriff muttered. “Sounds like she’s not willing to press charges.”
“I won’t say that’s a definite. I just think she’s intimidated by my family.”
A dark brow jerked up. “The Bains do have a way of singling out those who go against the grain. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“You’re willing to help this person and keep her name from the papers when word gets out about a robbery? Because word always gets out in this town, son.”
“I don’t want her feeling pressured. She had a pretty tough night.” Ginger’s imploring look remained stamped on his brain. And he understood her plight and her concerns.
“Something about her that your aunt and uncle disapprove of, I assume.”
Ryan shrugged. “She wouldn’t be the first person they’ve disapproved of.”
The sheriff nodded his head. “Point taken. Well… Let me see what I can come up with, based on your descriptions and summation of the incident.” He stood and extended his hand to Ryan in parting. But then he drew it back and suggested, “Unless you’d care to observe this process as part of the interview.”
Ryan knew he had a written test and several hours at the shooting range ahead of him tomorrow, but he rose to the challenge of finding the two guys who’d robbed and attacked Ginger.
“I’d appreciate the opportunity, sir.”
They shook hands, and the sheriff said, “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
Pleased with the turn of events, Ryan left Sheriff Johnson’s office. Unfortunately, his optimism evaporated when he caught a glimpse of his aunt and uncle leaving Pietro’s and heading toward him.
They had no idea he’d rolled into town late this afternoon, and they certainly didn’t know why he was here. Or that he wasn’t intending to work with Jonathan at the church. The ministry was not his calling. Solving crimes and helping people like Ginger was.
Okay, protecting Ginger was now part of his mission. He couldn’t help it. She was a spitfire, but so pretty and dainty, he just wanted to tuck her against his body and shield her from everything and everyone. Including his sometimes overbearing relatives.
His aunt hurried toward him, her hands clasped together at her chest. When she reached Ryan, she held his face in her palms and said, “You are such a sight for sore eyes.” She then gave him a hug and added, “My goodness, look how tall and strong you’ve gotten.”
He hadn’t been back to Wilder in seven years, but the Bains had attended his college graduation. Though he officially held a degree in ministry, he’d minored in criminology, something they were unaware of, as the dean hadn’t announced it when he’d handed over Ryan’s diploma.
Giving both of them a smile, he said, “It’s so good to see you. Been much too long.” He shook his uncle’s hand and added, “I would have called to let you know I was coming, but the trip came up unexpectedly.”
Jonathan clasped his shoulder and said, “We’re so happy to have you back. Lydia will make up your room.”
With an inward cringe, he admitted, “I already booked a suite at Reese Middleton’s bed and breakfast. She said she could use the business when I contacted her.”
His aunt made a soft tsking noise. “Why on earth would you stay anywhere but home?”
“I didn’t want to impose,” he simply told her.
Ryan didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he’d never really thought of their house as home. Especially not after he’d graduated high school and had moved to Arizona before his first semester had even started. The tension at the Bains’ residence had increased over the years and he’d been glad to escape the overly strict and often pious environment.
That did not mean he didn’t love his relatives and appreciate them taking him in when he was seventeen, after his parents had died in a car crash outside Austin. But he didn’t wholly subscribe to all their beliefs.
“Well,” his uncle said, “you know you’re certainly welcome to stay with us. Anytime.”
“Thank you.”
“What brings you to town?” his aunt asked, still visibly prickled by what she clearly considered a personal slight. She was probably worried people would gossip about him not wanting to stay with his own family.
