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“Do you know how to interrogate people? Will there be a good cop and a bad cop? Who would be the bad one and who would be the good one?” Frank smirks at my barrage of questions.
“Yes, I know how to run an interrogation.”
“Without torture?” I smirk back at him, only making his smirk turn into a full smile. Damn he’s sexy when he smiles.
“I was thinking of having Kelly in on it.” My eyes widen.
“That’s brilliant!” I squeal. I put my hand over my mouth when everyone turns to glance our way. “Sorry,” I whisper to Frank. “God, he’ll hate having a woman interrogating him.”
“Yep.” He takes a giant bite of his burger. I made Steph get him a bun for it. He protested until I reminded him our bodies don’t work the same. It’s not fully healthy for him to eat the way I do. He relented I think only because he wanted to suck up any information I’d give him on the subject.
“I know you said you only took this job because of me, but I think you’d make a great chief of police here even after you solve this,” I tell him.
“That’s nice to hear, babe, because I’m not going anywhere.” I think I love those words as much as I’d love hearing him say I love you.
CHAPTER 13
FRANK
Her belly is full, and whatever danger she might’ve been in due to me not properly feeding her has passed. Still, I’m going to do a lot of research on this so I can best take care of her.
“Are we going back to the station?” Melody wonders when I make a left turn, opposite of the direction of her home.
“No. We’re stopping by Mom and Dad’s to get my clothes.”
“Nooo!” she wails and slumps down into her seat.
I cast a quick glance to see she’s covering her face with her hands. “Why no? I thought you loved my parents.”
“They can’t know we are sleeping together. That’s embarrassing. Turn around right now.” She shakes my shoulder, but it’s too late. We’ve already arrived.
I pull into the drive and cut the engine. Melody clutches the vinyl-covered door panel. “I’m not getting out,” she declares.
“Mom is going to raise hell if I leave you out here.”
“I don’t care. Go on and get your stuff.”
I’ve never seen her wear a more determined expression, and her grip on the door is so tight I think I’d have to take the door off the hinges and carry both her and the auto part inside.
“I’ll be five,” I say.
She gives me a tight jerk of her head and then stares out the window so she can’t see the house, as if by not seeing it, she can pretend she’s not here. I swallow a chuckle.
Inside, Mom is making fried chicken. A big pile of fried pieces are piled onto a layer of newspaper so the grease drains off. My stomach rumbles even though I just had a burger and the salad.
“Smells good.” I sniff over her shoulder.
“You staying for dinner?”
“I picked up something with Melody, but I’ll take any extra.”
“What do you mean take?” She cranes her neck to peer out the kitchen window that overlooks the drive. Lines appear between her eyes when she spots Melody in the car. Mom rears back and gives me an evil eye. “Now Benson Charles, why is that sweet girl sitting in the car like she’s some kind of unwelcome disease?” She waves the flour-coated tongs she’s been using to turn the chicken in my face. “Go on and bring her in here. You can eat at the table like civilized people.”
“She won’t come in.” I sneak a wing and chomp it down.
“Now why is that?”
As I toss the bone in the trash, I reply, “Cuz I’m staying over there.”
“Because of the killer?” Mom wants to know.
“That and because I want to.” I figure it’s best to be honest with Mom.
Her eyes narrow. “You can’t be fooling around with Melody. She’s a good girl, and just because her family is all gone doesn’t mean she’s alone. If I have to protect her from my own son, I will.”
Moms are terrifying. I put up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not fooling around with her. It’s going to be permanent once I solve this murder.”
“Permanent as in what?”
I grin and wink. “Marriage. Feel free to reserve the church.”
“Then you’ll be staying here and taking the chief’s job for good.”
“I reckon I am.”
Mom’s face grows smug. “And that Vincent boy?”
“I suppose he will have to be a deputy.”
A smile so bright that it’s blinding creases her face. “That’s good. You’re making good decisions.” With all the details of her pups back in the kennel called Harrisville, she returns to flouring and breading her chicken.
I hurry to my bedroom, stuff my shit into a bag, and then make a beeline for the exit. Mom hands me a paper bag full of fried chicken. “I put some extra wings in there since you’re doing a good job.”
