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Sunny sensed the slight drop in his guard and moved in quickly. “You could do that. Or you could come back to my place to talk. I know what it looks like, but I swear I’m not the bad guy. She’s been threatening me and my staff. Threatening to shoot us, no less.”
Detective Callahan paused, stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at her.
“Plus—” Sunny took a step closer “—I have whisky.”
The detective gave a soft laugh. He looked her up and down. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
“Maybe.”
Just enough silence passed to make Sunny nervous, but when the detective spoke, he surprised her. “Get in your car,” he said. “I’ll follow.”
Without the vest, his shirt undone at the top two buttons and his sidearm safely holstered, Detective Callahan was a slightly less imposing figure as he leaned back on Sunny’s couch. She poured him a glass of Scotch and passed it over.
“Are you going to get into trouble for not taking me in?”
The detective sipped his whisky and watched her awhile, maybe sizing her up or trying to decide what to say. “I’m not on duty. Nobody knows I’m out here but me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But that won’t stop me from taking you in and throwing you in jail for the night if I don’t like what I hear.”
“You’re not on duty?” Sunny measured her words carefully. “Then why are you out here?”
“I spoke with your sister the other day.” Detective Callahan’s unflinching gaze was bright above the Scotch glass. “She suggested looking into the dog operations when no one was expecting it. I decided to come out here tonight, see the layout. Then I spotted your car. The way it was tucked off the road drew my suspicion immediately.”
So, he was a good detective. Nobody else would’ve seen her car there, on that back road that only the Morrigans and Matteris knew existed. “I’m sure my sister meant you should check out Janice Matteri’s operation. Not mine.”
Callahan laughed a little. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not seeing Ms. Matteri breaking into your kennels. Am I?”
Sunny silently agreed that she’d walked into that one. “If you talked to my sister, then you know that I rescue dogs. I also help kids who’ve been in trouble so they get a second chance. They’re innocent. Janice Matteri, on the other hand, sells for profit. She overbreeds and keeps many of her dogs in inhumane conditions.”
Callahan rolled his glass around in his fingertips, then ran it beneath his nose. “Is that who lives in your cabins, out back? Kids who work here?”
He had done more than a little sleuthing. “Only one resident works for me. Roger. He’s an adult, but yes, he started here with the youth program. He was in foster care his whole childhood.” Sunny dispensed with the fake pleasantness and loosed a little of her frustration by thunking a glass upright on the bar. “The other cabins are rented out by people who don’t want to camp but also don’t want to glamp. I’m a mix between the two. Helps pay the bills.”
“I see.”
“I’m surprised you came with me.” Sunny poured herself two fingers and tossed it back. She braced herself for the burn, but the amber liquid went down much smoother than she’d expected. “Why not just throw me in jail?”
Detective Callahan ran the glass under his nose again and drew a breath. “Because I like your sister, Miss Morrigan.”
“Call me Sunny.”
“I like your sister, Sunny.” He took a second sip and showed his appreciation by eyeing the glass with raised brows. “She shot straight with me. That’s why I tend to believe your story about why I caught you breaking several laws tonight.”
“Everybody likes Cici.” Sunny rolled her eyes. Introverted Constance, who needed nobody. She just had a way with people. “She’s like that grumpy aunt who doesn’t like cats, but all the cats go to her, anyway.” Sunny shrugged. “Except she likes cats. And she’s not really grumpy. She’s just kind of...intimidating, without being intimidating.” Sunny expected confusion but the detective smiled.
“The opposite of you?”
Sunny poured herself another glass. “I get it.” She spread her arms open. “I’m not large and intimidating.” She threw back the second drink and was grateful for the warmth that spread quickly through her body. “Like you.”
“Size isn’t everything.” Callahan shook his head and stood up. “A black widow can be just as dangerous as a great white shark.” He approached her, his demeanor considerably more relaxed than outside Janice Matteri’s, and took the bottle of Scotch from her hand. “Something tells me that you just might be a venomous little spider.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sunny dropped her voice down. “What tells you that?”
“Everything from the way you invited me out here to the way you’re guzzling this very, very,very—” Callahan eyed the label “—expensive Scotch, when you should be sipping it. Smelling it. Savoring the different aromas.” He set the bottle on the oak bar and leaned his elbow there.
“I don’t know anything about Scotch,” Sunny said. “This was a gift.”
Callahan nodded toward the bottle. “Macallan. Thirty-year-old single malt. Whoever gave you that likes you a lot.”
“One of my frequent customers.” Sunny opened her arms, as though to embrace the grounds. Mr. Healy. A wealthy property developer from New York City who came down twice a year, rented a cabin for two weeks, took all his meals alone and always greeted Sunny with a peck on each cheek. He’d never asked her out or gave her lascivious looks, but he always presented her with a “hostess” gift, and bowed when she accepted it.
