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“Sheriff Rawlings,” a smooth voice said behind them. “This is hardly the time or the place for an interrogation.”
Ash growled and straightened, turning to face the state attorney general. Thomas Parker was in his mid-fifties but still had the trim build of a younger man. His graying hair was always neatly combed back from his sharp, hawk-like features. JT stood directly behind the man with a self-satisfied look on his skinny weasel face.
“Tom, I suspect there’s been long-standing corruption in my department, starting with the former sheriff here. I’m well within my purview to question him.”
Tom’s too-white smile remained genial, even as his eyes flashed a warning. “Maybe just not at the club, yeah? This has always been neutral ground. Your father and grandfathers would come here to settle disputes, not start them.”
“This is an investigation, not a dispute.”
“If you suspect corruption, my office will be happy to investigate,” he said, his voice still smooth as silk. “But this right here? Ash, this is dangerously close to police harassment. You should take a breath and leave before you do or say something you’ll regret.”
Ash glowered at him for several heavy seconds, then glanced at the former sheriff. Jerry was staring at the picture of Darcy with tiny beads of sweat gathering at his thinning hairline. Ash looked at Mark, who was utterly relaxed back in his seat, still wearing that smug grin.
And, in his gut, he knew he was looking at Darcy’s killer.
It explained so much—like why Monarch had been so desperate to get their hands on Rawlings land. The same land where her body was uncovered. Almost as if Mark knew she was there and had wanted to make sure she remained missing.
“I just remembered,” Ash said softly and picked up the file. “You were at the party that night, weren’t you?” He didn’t say more, didn’t level accusations. He wanted evidence first, but he also wanted Mark to know his days as a free man were numbered.
Mark’s grin slipped just a fraction.
It was all the confirmation Ash needed. He smiled at the four men, and he knew it was a predator’s smile from their wary expressions. “Have a nice lunch, gentlemen.”
chapter twenty-one
The next few days passed in a slog. As predicted, the media went nuts over the discovery of Darcy’s body. The fire mostly kept reporters from flooding into town, but that didn’t stop the talking heads on all the big stations from continuously rehashing the case, flashing that mug shot-like school picture of Darcy next to an actual mugshot of Donovan from when he was arrested for a bar fight a few years back.
People in town were looking at him differently. He’d never been welcomed back with open arms, but there had always been a layer of civility in their dislike. Now, many of them were downright hostile toward him. And he couldn’t shake the sense that even Sasha was pulling away from him. They continued sleeping together every night, but she was quieter in the evenings than usual.
Who could blame her?
This was all a lot of stress for a fragile new relationship. Maybe he needed to back off, give her some space.
When she left for work, he shut Matilda in the laundry room with a kiss on the nose and her air purifier going, then took Spirit home.
The house was too quiet. Too still. He instantly missed the distinct tippy-tapping of Matilda’s paws on the hardwood floor. He missed Sasha’s favorite perfume—summertime berries with notes of vanilla—that seemed to saturate every soft surface in her house. His place smelled of man and dog and faintly of the wildfire smoke that still hazed the air.
Donovan sat on his couch and looked around. Although his living room had big windows that let in a lot of light, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. He felt trapped.
Even Spirit seemed sad. She wasn’t her usual bouncy self. After roaming the house, looking in every room, she settled down by the door with a big sigh.
“You miss the rescue, don’t you?”
She turned her puppy dog eyes up to him and gave another sigh.
“Yeah, me too.”
They’d spent every free moment at Redwood Coast Rescue, training or running in the agility yard. And now it was all gone, burned to the ground because some asshole decided to light a fire during a drought.
He couldn’t imagine how Zak and Anna and the girls felt now, having lost everything.
Some friend he was. He’d been so wrapped up in his own shit that he never even went to see if they needed help with anything.
He popped to his feet and called for Spirit but stalled out halfway down his front porch steps. He didn’t even know where Zak and Anna were living right now. With Zak’s parents? A hotel? Had they rented a place somewhere? He had to find out before he dropped by for a visit. And should he be dropping by unannounced, given his current problems? Probably not.
He glanced back at his house.
Nope, he wasn’t going back inside. He continued on to his Jeep. There was a small dog park over by the high school that had a few agility obstacles. He could take Spirit there and run her through a few times.
