said in lieu of answering the question. “As long as I’m wearing this badge, I’m conflicted on both sides. Shea could be in some kind of trouble and it’s not right that I can’t even ask her. And I don’t want to be the sheriff if it means charging my own girl.”
“It’s not illegal to keep money, you know,” Duff appeased. “Maybe she’s one of those people who doesn’t trust the banking system and puts all her money in cash and gold.”
Dev didn’t mention to Duff that, when he’d confronted Shea, she’d looked guilty as sin.
“I’ll give my notice, all the same. I don’t want to leave you hanging. But you were right about the other things. I need to do what I came here to do, and I need to talk to her.”
Dev’s personal phone chose that moment to do the thing he’d been waiting for it to do all week—it buzzed with an incoming text. He had spent every hour checking obsessively for any contact from Shea. He knew it was absurd, given the way he’d left—knew that he would have to be the one who opened dialogue after he’d backed her into impossible terms. Like a fool, he checked his phone at every twitch.
Holy shit—it’s from her.
For weeks, he’d had her entered in as a favorite contact, which set him up to receive her calls and texts, even if his phone was set to Do Not Disturb. Dev had practically slept with one eye open on the off chance that he would reach out to her at all, not caring about the reason or the hour.
But this, he had not expected. He wasted no time reading her incoming text, and after he did, he read it twice.
I got him on tape admitting to everything. Now you know the truth about the mills. Note: Keenan is my ex and the person referred to as “Elle” is me. Long story, and not important.
Just as Dev was about to text back that he wanted to talk and that he was in the middle of resigning his position, he noticed: the text had been sent to a group. Members of the EDC seemed to be the other recipients, and below the note she’d written was a link to an audio recording. Could this really be what it seemed like it was?
Dev placed it in the middle of the table and pressed play, knowing that Duff needed to hear. He recognized Shea’s voice immediately and wondered where this meeting had taken place—how Shea had found herself out of the house and so close to Don Jr. Had she put herself in the path of a dangerous man, like Cliff had suggested? Had she done it for Dev?
Such thoughts were quickly replaced by Dev’s dark reaction to the content of Don Jr.’s plans, spoken so casually—so coldly—as if they didn’t involve human lives. It redoubled Dev’s hunger to stop policing so he could work the business angles full time. They had to find a way to stop Don Jr.—whether through legal means, or because they could raise enough money to buy him out.
Did you listen to it yet?
A second text came in just as Duff and Dev were listening to the final seconds. That text was from Cliff. No sooner did he send it than did a flurry of tertiary texts come in rapid succession from the others, too fast for Dev to discern what comment had come from whom.
That asshole has got some nerve, could have as easily come from Cliff as it had come from Stanley Tran. For all he knew, it could have even come from Shea. So could, We need to rally the troops on this one, and, We’ve got to beat him at his own game. The comments about karma and spiritual cleansing had probably come from Laura.
Before he could sort out who had said what, Duff grabbed his phone and texted out something he didn’t see until after she was done, then got on her feet and disappeared into another room.
This is Duff. I’m with Dev. We all need to meet right now. Drop what you’re doing and come down to the station. Tell no one about this. It’s evidence.
Dev picked up the phone, called in yet another favor to Betty to cover the store and texted Delilah for a favor to close. Just as he pocketed his phone, a fully uniformed, fully armed, fully herself Sheriff Duffy strode in from the back and hustled both of