unusual building for this town, the architecture mimicking East Coast colonial houses rather than the ranch-style sprawl normal around here.
Evelyn sits inside the screened-in porch, her overlarge sunglasses and wide-brimmed sunhat making her look like an insect. She locks her lips over the straw poking out of her iced tea and sucks, watching us approach. The image of her sitting there between those gleaming white columns and the American flag sticking out of the house makes me think of plantation owners. As though they’ve come to stake their claim—to change our town into whatever the hell this is.
It was a charming B&B, and now it might as well be Cranbury HQ with all their maids and dog walkers, and dog-shit-picker-uppers. I’m not joking. There’s a guy whose job is just to pick up after the dogs. Unreal.
Olivia didn’t see the dents in the wall I made when that cocksucker shut down our family business. Fifty years, and this never happened to us. The auto shop is a part of this town, just like the black oak trees in the children’s park. I expected him to behave like all rich, careless people. They crash their cars and destroy lives, and then they retreat back into their wealth and let other people clean up the mess.
First on the order of business: arrest said asshole.
“Excuse me, sirs.” A beefy man in a black suit intercepts us as we walk up the driveway.
Chris flashes his badge. “This is police business. Step out of the way.”
As if to punctuate his sentence, another squad car rolls up to the curb, its sirens flashing without the sound.
The bodyguard hisses something into his walkie-talkie as we step around him, heading for the front door. Evelyn rises from her seat.
“Gentlemen, can I help you?”
Chris walks up the steps and shoves the warrant in her shocked face. “I have a warrant for your son’s arrest, ma’am. For property damage and a misdemeanor hit-and-run. Is he inside?”
“There must be some mistake. I was told that Brenda wasn’t pressing charges.” Her saccharine tone makes me bristle.
I bypass my brother, pounding my fist on the door. “Open the fuck up!”
“Gage, I got this.”
“Fuck that, I want to put the cuffs on him.”
A firm hand seizes my shoulder, yanking me back. “Only one of us is a police officer.” He grins at me under his aviator glasses, and then he turns to the door. “Police!”
Then he lets himself in, and I walk through, Evelyn flapping around us like a hen. “On what grounds are you arresting my son?”
“Step aside, ma’am.”
“Who let them in?”
My eyes sweep the tall ceiling, past the chandelier where Mark stands on the second landing, gripping the railing.
I got you, fucker.
Chris makes a beeline for the staircase. “I have a warrant for your arrest for property damage and a misdemeanor hit-and-run.”
His eyes go wide in alarm. “What is the meaning of this? Brenda and I had a deal! I gave her more than double the money she needed to fix the place. Don’t touch me!”
“Want to add resisting arrest to your charges? Keep it up. Now get on your fucking knees.” A tic moves in Chris’ jaw. “NOW!”
“This is bullshit!” He sinks to his knees.
The muscles in my face tighten with the huge grin. I’m enjoying the hell out of this, especially watching my normally straight-laced brother putting rich boy through his paces. It’s nice to watch, but I wish I were the one slapping those cuffs on him.
“These are too tight—my circulation—ow!”
“Serves you right, asshole.”
He whirls his head around at me. “What the hell did I do? She agreed—you can’t do this! I will sue you both!”
“There was another piece of property found with some damage,” Chris says, smirking behind his back.
About thirty dollars worth of property, actually.
A busted mailbox we found on the road. It could’ve been his car. Or not. Convincing Pierce to testify that he saw the car hit his mailbox wasn’t hard. He’d run the Cranburys off with his shotgun if it were allowed.
He stumbles down the stairs, screaming when the cuffs cut into his sensitive wrists. “Mom! You have to help me!”
Chris and I laugh at each other. “Mommy, save me!”
Evelyn sweeps into the foyer, her poise and grace gone. “This is an outrageous abuse of power. I’m friends with the police chief in San Francisco—”
“But not friends with the chief in Mariposa County.” He rolls his eyes as Mark lets out a pitiful moan. “You’ll have to find some other way to buy yourself