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The desk phone rang, startling both of them out of their dark thoughts.
Royce grimaced at his sister but answered the damn thing. “Sheriff’s department.”
A woman’s voice came through the receiver, a bit tinny sounding. “This is Briar Nilson.”
He was quiet for a moment too long, a bit shocked, not prepared for Briar Nilson to be on the other end of the line. Even if he had planned on tracking her down, he hadn’t been expecting to hear her voice quite so soon.
Her voice was hard. “I’m wondering why I wasn’t informed my father passed away. This is your one and only warning that I am on my way to Rexville, and I will be talking to everyone involved. I want to see every scrap of evidence you have on what happened.”
There was a click as she hung up without waiting for his reply. He stared at the receiver for a second before setting it back down.
“Who was that?” asked Raine.
Probably there was protocol about sharing sheriff’s phone calls, but Royce hadn’t read the rules yet. He hadn’t found the rules yet. He glanced around, wondering how he was supposed to find anything in this mess. Fuck it, he was making his own fucking rules.
“Briar Nilson. She’s on her way.”
Raine nodded, pursing her lips.
“I never knew her, not really. She was a couple years ahead of me, I think?”
Royce had never really known Briar Nilson, either, and now she was coming back to Rexville and didn’t sound happy about it or the situation, which was fair. Still, a feeling Royce wasn’t ready to identify started slowly unfurling in his gut.
“She was a junior when I was a senior.”
“It must have been hard, being Tor Nilson’s daughter.”
That was his sister, with a soft spot for everyone, even one of the town outcasts. Although Briar probably hadn’t had it as bad as the Reeser family. Royce had never really thought about it. As a teen, he’d been more worried about being Douglas King’s son.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Tor Nilson was—had been—something of an eccentric, known for his intricate custom-made furniture that had drawn clients from far and wide back when they were kids. Royce wasn’t sure exactly, he’d been busy being a rebellious teen. But Tor’s alternative lifestyle had often been the subject of town gossip. Royce didn’t remember ever hearing anything much about Briar’s mother.
He looked around the office mess, not knowing what was trash and what needed to be taken care of. “There’s not much I can do this evening. I’ll start tomorrow.” Crime could wait, a beer and hot wings at the Tainted Crown were calling him.
Tor Nilson would still be dead tomorrow and, hopefully, Jordan would pull his head out of his ass so Royce wouldn’t have to worry about him all the damn time. He’d do this sheriff gig until the time was up and by then, there’d be a better candidate. There’d better be.
“I knew you’d step up, big brother,” Raine said in a serious tone as she moved toward the door. “We need you.”
“Whatever,” he groused, even as he secretly loved Raine’s praise.
The Tainted Crown was loud with its usual motley collection of Tuesday afternoon customers. Someone had programmed seventies classics into the jukebox, and Don Henley was crooning the lyrics to “Desperado,” begging someone to come to their senses. Royce said hi to Sadie, the waitperson on shift, and waved to Rufus in the kitchen before heading further inside. Topher, Caleb, and Bishop were taking up their favorite table toward the back, near the darts and billiards.
“We ordered you wings,” Caleb said when Royce reached them. “Sadie says they’re great today.”
“The wings are always great. You’re just trying to make up for not alerting me to what Raine was up to.”
Caleb actually looked shocked at Royce’s suggestion.
“I had no idea!”
Transferring his glare to Topher, Royce pulled a stool out and sat down. “You did. Don’t even try and deny it.”
Luckily for Topher, Sadie arrived with Royce’s hot wings and her customary cheer.
“The guys said you need beer.”
“God yes. A pint of IPA, please.”
