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Hernandez stepped out from the mouth of the hall as Sheffield stepped over a pile of debris, glass crunching beneath her tactical boots. “I know I haven’t been on the job long, but I’ve never seen this much destruction before.” She shook her head in bemusement. This doesn’t feel like a smash and grab, and not only because nothing seems to be missing. This feels personal to me.”
Hernandez nodded. “Same. They didn’t take any of the electronics, and I spotted some jewelry and shit in the bedroom that could be worth something. They didn’t take anything, just fucking wrecked it.”
“Think you guys are right.”
“What do you want to do, boss?”
I cut my eyes to Sheffield, giving her a flat glare as she and Hernandez both smiled, the assholes. It was a running joke with everyone in the station. Word had spread that Sheriff Duke had approached me a while back to see if I’d be willing to run for his position at the end of this term. He’d been bitten by the retirement bug and was looking forward to spending his days out on the water with a cooler of beer and a fishing pole.
And that word had spread mainly because the old man had told all his deputies it would be happening. So far, I had everyone’s support, which was a relief, because I would have been lying if I said this hadn’t been my end goal all along, what I’d been working toward since I joined the department. I’d happily paid my dues and worked my way up from a rookie.
Now I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but the joy I’d felt before was no longer there. After what happened with Carla Sanford, it had been replaced with a gut clawing anxiety. Where I’d been so sure I could do the job in the past, I couldn’t help but question my ability now.
“I’m not your boss,” I grunted.
Hernandez stretched his shit-eating grin even wider. “Only a matter of time.”
Sheffield dove right back in. “My first request when you are sheriff: can you do away with the uniforms? At least the pants. I’m good with the shirt and jeans. No woman in the world looks flattering in this kind of khaki.”
I hiked a brow at her. “Are you more concerned with attracting attention while you’re on the clock or doing your job?”
She scrunched her mouth to the side and shot me a murderous look. “You know damn good and well I’m about the job. But I’m also a single woman who’d like to find a man. And if my ass just so happens to look good in a pair of jeans while I’m on duty, I don’t see a problem with that.”
She had a point. And I honestly didn’t give a shit about them wearing jeans. But that wasn’t my top priority. Hell, it didn’t even make the list at that moment.
“Holton?” I heard Lyric’s voice call out, a glaring reminder of why I was here in the first place. I moved through the disaster that used to be a living room and stepped out onto the front porch to see that Lyric had gotten out of the truck and was halfway up her front walk, her steps hesitant, Churro resting happily against her chest. “Is—is everything okay in there?”
I descended the three porch steps when it became obvious she intended to go inside and met her in the middle of the walkway, holding up my hands to stop her. “You don’t want to go in there right now, baby. It’s pretty bad.”
Her eyes widened and those pillowy lips parted on a breath. “Pretty bad? What do you mean?”
My chest squeezed like someone was cranking a rusty bolt tighter. “It’s been trashed, Lyric. Whoever did it made the worst mess I’ve ever seen.”
I could have sworn I caught a tremble in her bottom lip before she asked, “Everything?”
I nodded gravely. “Everything, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
She whispered, “No, no, no, no, no,” under her breath before shoving Churro at me and racing up the rest of the walkway.
The abrupt motion caught me off guard, but I quickly followed after her, racing into the house on her heels. She bypassed the main living areas and bolted down the hallway, her steps so frantic she tripped a few times, nearly face planting before catching herself on the walls.
“No, no, no, no. Please, no,” she repeated as she turned into her bedroom. She skidded to a stop on the right side of what used to be a bed before falling to her knees and crawling the rest of the way to her nightstand.
“Oh my god.No!” I’d never heard anything like the strangled cry she let out just then, and the sound of it hit me in the chest with the same impact as a bullet would have. Her hands moved frantically over the carpet, reaching for things I couldn’t see from my vantage point, then she curled in on herself, her butt to her heels, and began to rock as she broke out in sobs.
Sensing one of my team was behind me, I twisted and handed Churro off to the person who turned out to be Hernandez. He and Sheffield both were standing in the open doorway, watching Lyric shatter, concern marring their expressions.
I rushed to her, dropping down beside her, and scooped her off the floor, nestling her in my lap as panic clutched my heart.
“I need you to talk to me,” I said, trying to keep my worry from making my voice too harsh. “Need you to tell me what’s going on, Lyric. I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”
She twisted in my lap, tears brimming on her lash line then spilling down her cheeks. “You can’t fix it,” she croaked, her voice so agonized I felt the emotion clogging my throat.
She opened her hands, revealing pieces of smashed porcelain that looked to have been painted navy blue and shot through with swirls of gold.
“Honey, what is that?”
“It held my brother’s ashes.” My breath lodged in my throat. “This was all I had left of him.”
