A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,20

pad that Sun smudged with blood. Her hands were covered in tiny cuts. She wiped one on her pants, winced at the glass shards still lodged in her skin, and continued.

“Okay, who took your daughter? Did you see him?”

“No. He took her last night. I was asleep. I fell asleep.”

Someone brought Sun a chair, and she sat in front of Mrs. St. Aubin. The splinters of glass digging into her back stung every time she moved, but she could see to that later. The siren from an ambulance wailed as it neared, which seemed ridiculous to her since the fire station was only two blocks away.

“Mrs. St. Aubin, how old is your daughter?”

“Fourteen.”

Same age as Auri. For some reason, that knowledge startled her.

Mrs. St. Aubin spoke between sobs, her voice strained. “She’ll be fifteen in three days. Three days.” Her eyes rounded again, and she clawed at Sun’s hands. “You have to find her. We don’t have much time.”

Before Sun could ask what she meant, the woman disintegrated into a fit of sobs, her shoulders shaking violently. Sun sent one of the deputies for water as the EMTs rushed in. She showed a palm to stop them and continued her interrogation.

She put a hand on the woman’s shoulder to get her attention. “Mrs. St. Aubin, start from the beginning. How long has your daughter been missing?”

The woman blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings, and said in a hushed tone, “Forever.”

Sun called Quincy and one of the EMTs to her office while the other tech checked on Mrs. St. Aubin. She glanced at the new station décor as she passed. A white Mercedes sedan that probably cost more than Canada now graced the foyer. They could do worse, she figured. They could have a statue of the town’s founder, a man who looked alarmingly like Lurch from The Addams Family.

She thought back, trying to remember exactly what hit where when the car came at her as though laser guided. She remembered ducking, because that made so much more sense than jumping out of the way. Sadly, her reflexes weren’t so much catlike as rolypolylike.

The car’s bumper must have hit her shoulder. It was enough to send her sprawling back, a fact that probably saved her life if the placement of the tire was any indication. Three inches closer and she’d be in dire need of a face-lift. As in her face lifted off the floor.

Her phone beeped with a text from Auri. The very Auri she’d just left at school not an hour earlier. She prayed the kid hadn’t actually cut a bitch this early in the semester. She checked the message and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only their standard check-in.

“Knock-knock,” she’d texted.

Sun smiled. “Who’s there?”

“Your mama.”

A bubble of laughter surfaced. “Sweetheart, I know you’re lying. Your grandmother never knocks.”

She received a GIF of a dog on its back in a fit of laughter for her efforts. A breathy sigh of relief slid past her lips. She’d genuinely been worried this last week. Not about Auri cutting a bitch. For the girl’s well-being.

The tribulations of being a parent, she supposed.

She sent her a row of hearts before restarting the journey to her office.

With no time to spare, she began unbuttoning her shirt before she made it there, but something else drew her attention. She looked across the street to see Levi observing from the gas pumps.

She paused, not because she wanted a better look. Well, yes, because she wanted a better look, but it was his expression that stopped her in her tracks.

When his powerful gaze met hers, he lowered his head and stared a solid minute, his fists tightening around a worn cap.

Concern lined his face. And something akin to knowing, as though the crash didn’t surprise him. As though Sun’s presence didn’t surprise him. Then again, why would it? He’d had to have known she’d won the bid for county sheriff.

He wet his lips, the movement so sexy Sun could hardly see straight. Before she could wrench her gaze away, he turned, climbed back into his truck, and took off, heading north toward his family’s land.

“Nope,” Quincy said from beside her. “He hasn’t changed at all.” His tone was teasing, and Sun wanted to punch him in the arm like she had on numerous occasions in high school. “You think maybe we ought to find a missing kid now?”

Sun straightened her shoulders and winced as the fabric of her uniform scraped over the glass