got to check something out.”
“Something to do with Eric?” Brynne asked, raising one perfect eyebrow.
Her lips glistened with a transparent pink gloss of some kind, and she smelled like wildflowers.
“Sort of,” he replied.
“Which means you can’t talk about it,” she guessed, smiling again.
“It’s no big deal,” he told her, hoping that was true. “Don’t go ruining your evening by worrying about it.”
“Can you come back at midnight?” Brynne asked.
The sudden change in subject matter surprised Eli. “I will if I can,” he said. He didn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, even small ones. “Right now, I’d better get going. I left Festus in the SUV, and he’ll be getting impatient—not to mention cold.”
Without a word, Brynne picked up a paper plate and began adding small bits of dog-friendly food to it—a tiny square of cheddar cheese, a few cocktail wieners, random party nibbles.
“These are for Festus,” she announced, covering the plate with a paper napkin. “Feel free to help yourself if you’re hungry. I suppose you’re probably used to eating in your car.”
Eli thanked her, reached for his wallet.
“Put your money away, Sheriff,” Brynne ordered. “Tonight, supper’s on the house.”
He took the offered plate—Festus would be overjoyed—and snagged half a roast beef sandwich for the road.
“Don’t forget,” Brynne reminded him. “Midnight.”
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN DAN SUMMERS answered the door at his ex-wife’s place, he pretty much filled all available space. Built like the proverbial brick shithouse, this former navy SEAL and erstwhile FBI agent stood well over six feet tall, and he must have weighed close to three hundred pounds—all muscle, no fat.
He was Black, with a shaved head and, under the right circumstances, a ready smile.
Tonight, the white dazzle of that smile made Eli blink.
“Bro!” Dan boomed. “What you got to tell me so important you go bustin’ in on our party?”
He liked using street vernacular, even though he had a law degree and provided security for some of the wealthiest, most sophisticated people on the planet. During his hitch in the navy, he’d completed SEAL training, legendary for its difficulty, in one try, and gone on to train other men and women before his second hitch was up. After that, he’d gone to law school, graduated and promptly decided, according to Melba, that he’d rather fight clean.
Inside the house, a chorus of girlish voices gasped in unison at some development in a kids’ movie—probably Frozen 17 or something like it.
Eli smiled at the thought of his niece in there with her friends, having a good time. She was safe here, with Dan around and, later, Melba. Safer than she would be at home.
“Come out here, will you?” Eli said. The volume on the TV was high, but he didn’t want to take the chance of being overheard.
Dan lumbered out onto the porch, ducking his head slightly as he passed through the doorframe. “Man, it’s frickin’ cold. I hope you’re not planning on givin’ an oration.”
Eli chuckled, albeit grimly. Then he told his friend, as concisely as he could, about Freddie Lansing, the trouble he’d gotten in last year, Eric’s involvement and, finally, the threatening text his nephew had received earlier.
Dan gave a low whistle of exclamation and rubbed his huge hands together. “That little bastard tries to hurt any of these kids, tonight or any other time, I’ll crack his empty head like a walnut.”
“You going to be in town awhile?” Eli asked, shivering himself. According to the most recent weather report, there was a Chinook coming—Chinook being a native word for an early thaw, but the temperature seemed to be stuck at fifteen degrees.
“Depends on whether Melba kicks me out or gives in to my manly charms,” Dan answered, grinning. “She divorced me for having a dangerous job. Now that she’s a deputy sheriff herself, I might be able to talk some sense into the woman. Get her to take me back. We ought to be raisin’ our kids together, man.”
“I hope you succeed,” Eli said honestly. He liked Dan, and he certainly liked Melba. As a Black woman in law enforcement, serving with distinction, she was opening doors not only for female minorities but for many other people, as well.
Dan arched an eyebrow, dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “You watch your back, Sheriff,” he warned good-naturedly. “One of these years, Melba’s going to run against you.” A pause. “And if you tell her I said that, I’ll deny every word.”
Again, Eli chuckled. Offered a casual salute. “She’ll probably win by a landslide,” he