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“Shelby’s in surgery at the moment, so all you need to do is keep an eye on who’s coming and going. And after that, just be there if she needs you.”
“Bells in surgery,” Reyes repeated as he followed him toward the back. “I know she’s a vet, but that still sounds strange.”
Dev one hundred percent understood. He’d gotten quite the eye-opening this morning himself—and not only because waking up with her warm body snuggled against him felt so fucking right.
Knowing she was a veterinarian wasn’t quite the same as seeing her in action. That, more than anything, drove home the fact she wasn’t a kid anymore. Of course, he’d recognized the obvious on one level, but he’d still been thinking of her as that naïve sixteen-year-old girl who had no clue what she was asking of him in her bedroom that day.
Watching her work had him seeing her in a whole new light. Clients, animals, and co-workers alike were treated with kindness and compassion. About a half-hour ago, a dog had been rushed in that had been attacked by another dog. She seized control with a calm confidence that had her collogues looking to her for guidance, even though she was probably younger than many of them.
It was then he realized he needed to figure out a way to give her back some control in her personal life, or her anxiety would only get worse. For her sake, he’d hate to see it take over this part of her life, too.
After they left the front waiting area, Dev showed his brother where he could keep watch while Shelby finished her surgery. Reyes nodded to a couple of vet techs who eyed them with open curiosity.
“Everyone here is cool with this?” he asked with a quick glance around.
“We had a meeting with her boss first thing this morning. He said the staff was informed of the situation, and other than being extra vigilant if someone was acting odd, everyone was advised to go about their business as usual. People are curious, but they’ve been respectful.”
“All right, then. I’ll hold down the fort until you get back.”
“Thanks. I have a stop to make after my therapist appointment, but I’ll be back before her shift ends at three.”
Reyes averted his gaze at the mention of a therapist. And while Dev made a point to mention it whenever he could, he didn’t push, because that had gotten him nowhere over the past couple years. All he could do was let his brother know he was seeing someone after his own trauma, and show no shame in it. Hopefully, Reyes would choose to get the help he needed soon.
As he left the parking lot, Dev glanced at the animal hospital in the rearview mirror. Even knowing Shelby was in good hands—Rey was one of the few he’d trust her safety to—he still didn’t like leaving her when the cops hadn’t been able to get anything useful from the surveillance at her apartment building.
Ironic how quickly he’d gone from refusing the job to going all in.
Whoever it was threatening her, they knew how to cover their tracks well. Which had him extra eager to talk to Mark’s private investigator. He’d called him Sunday evening to look into Chad Mayer and expected to get some results in the upcoming mee
ting.
Gus Landrum had gone to high school with the senator way back when. He’d gone on to the police academy while Mark went to college for business before eventually getting into politics.
The muddy-haired PI was in his mid-fifties, nearly six feet tall, and looked fit enough to still wear the badge even though he’d retired as a detective nearly five years ago. He’d done some security work for Mark when he was governor, and then opened his own private investigation agency shortly after the election for Senate.
Unfortunately, Gus had no good news for him.
“You’re absolutely sure Mayer checks out?” Dev leaned forward with a frown. “Because I got some seriously bad vibes from that guy.”
Bad vibes, or were you jealous?
The PI flipped open a red folder in front of him and slid it across his desk. “None of the flower shops that delivered her flowers recognized him, and his phone records are clean—other than the time Shelby said they went to dinner last summer. Plus, he had an alibi for both the night her power steering was cut, and the night of the wedding. Hell—you saw him at the wedding.”
“I didn’t keep an eye on him for the whole night,” Dev argued as he scanned the page in front of him that confirmed exactly what Gus had just relayed. “He could’ve left right after Shelby and I went back to the reception.”
“His drink tab was closed out at twelve-thirty-four a.m.”
Right about the time he and Shelby left—which would’ve given the guy no time to break into her apartment, leave his insidious message, and get out again before they arrived.
He flipped the folder closed, shot it back across the desk, and rose with a muttered, “Fuck.”
“Listen man, something will pop—it always does. In the meantime, you just do your job, and I’ll keep doing mine. We’ll get the motherfucker.”
Dev raked a hand through his hair and rubbed at the tension throbbing at the base of his skull. “Do you have any other leads? I don’t care how insignificant they sound, is there anything you’ve come across that seems the least bit off?”
Gus dug under a couple of folders and pulled out a light blue one that was three times as thick as the red one. “I had just started to review these before you called about Mayer.”
He moved closer to the desk, flipped the folder open, then read the top page. It was a photo copy of a death threat that had been sent to the senator about six months after he took office. Dev scanned the words, then flipped to the next page to see the same type of letter. He fanned the remaining pages, guessing there to be a good sixty to seventy letters.
