Page 19 of With a Grain of Salt

It isn't his business the limited details I remember from the criminal justice classes I took in high school when I thought I wanted to be a cop.

"I need to call Cash," Chandler says, pulling out his cell phone.

"Put it on speaker," I insist, and, surprisingly, in the next breath, the phone rings louder, so everyone standing back here in this tiny yard can hear it.

“Chief?” Chandler says when the call connects.

“What’s wrong, Chandler?” Cash asks.

“I have Walker Conroy in custody.”

Technically that isn't true. The man isn't in handcuffs yet.

“He says Adalynn sent him to Claire Kennedy’s house. Claire called the police when she found him lurking around in her backyard.”

“I wasn’t lurking,” Walker snaps.

“You were trying to steal Larkin’s ride-on car.” It's not exactly the truth, but I'm riled up and more than a little annoyed at this point.

“Hold on,” Cash says, and a minute later I can tell he's speaking to someone else. “Did you send Walker over to Claire’s to have him steal a ride-on car?”

I know my lies are going to come to light, but I'll die on this hill. I've already decided as much.

“He’s there to put a new battery in it,” Adalynn says on the other end of the line. “Did he do it right now? He wasn’t supposed to be there until after nine.”

“I wasn’t going to come to her house after dark,” Walker argues. “That’s how you get shot.”

I don't open my mouth to tell him that I don't have a gun in the house. Let him believe what he wants.

“Do you still want to press charges?” Chandler asks, looking in my direction.

“If that’s what it takes to get the people in this town to stop getting in my business."

“Jesus Christ,” Cash mutters. “Give me ten minutes. I’m coming.”

The call ends with a click of silence.

"I'm here to change the battery," Walker repeats.

"Okay," I say, waving my hand at the toy I'm now regretting having even splurged on in the first place. "Change it."

Walker growls when he presses his palm to his jeans.

"It's in the truck."

"Sure it is."

"He can prove it by letting him go to his truck," Chandler says.

"Is that protocol?" I challenge. "To let the suspect walk away from the scene of a crime?"

Chandler runs his hands over his head, torn between being a good cop and a man who probably knows Walker well enough to know he isn't here because he means any harm.

I know Walker would walk out to his truck and come back with a battery. I know the man is telling the truth, especially after Adalynn confirmed it, but she never should've put her nose in my business.

My eyes burn with the same angry tears they always do when I'm frustrated and see no resolution.

"I'm not a creep, Claire. I can see the error of what I've done. I should've knocked on your door rather than sneaking back here, but I saw…"

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