Page 23 of Stone Cold Sinner

“You sure they haven’t settled anywhere around here? There are a lot of towns much smaller than Coyote Creek around these parts that are lucky to have a gas pump and a small market, much less the few other things we have here.”

“If they’re from the more rural areas, I haven’t been able to find them. And there’s something else. This is going to sound real narrow-minded of me…” Kenzie lowered her voice as if others could hear what she had to say while inside her car. “Every now and again, and certainly becoming more often than not, they’re dressed… nice.”

The corner of Coy’s lips curled into a curious grin. “Dressing nice is suspicious?”

“Coy, look around. You’re from here,” she defended, pointing to various people roaming up and down the sidewalks from where they sat. “This is a community full of farmers and ranchers. Small town. Nobody dresses up to go to the Harvest Haven Feed Store for chicken scratch or the Barnyard Bounty Market for a six pack and hot dogs for an impromptu tailgater at the ranch down the road to practice barrel racing.”

“I know what you’re saying. I just wanted to hear you say it. Around here, people dress up for weddings, funerals, and church on Sundays, and dressing up means shit kickers, their good jeans, and your Sunday best blazer.” Coy chuckled. “So, what are your suspicious out-of-towners wearing?”

“Slacks. Shiny shoes even. No cowboy hats or shit kickers. Expensive.” She shrugged. “Nobody dresses like that out here. And when I run plates, they’re usually rentals.”

“Rentals, huh? I suppose that validates the out-of-towners theory,” he agreed. “Anything else? Crime, even petty?”

“No. Not at all. Which is why I know my suspicions sound so out of left field. It’s really just a hunch. A gut feeling, ya know?”

“I do know, unfortunately. That gut feeling is rarely wrong, too. What about the marijuana trade? Has that become a problem around here?”

“Not at all, which is why Nash’s little business deal has all sorts of red flags around it.”

“Agreed.” Coy nodded, watching an SUV with out-of-state plates park, only to see a family exit the vehicle, which appeared to be on vacation or visiting. “I suppose it makes sense to grow your crops far away from your customer base and competition to protect the investment, so to speak, but out here? Why? We are quite away from any bordering states where it’s legal. So, as much as I can understand growing it elsewhere, growing this far away seems like a bad business plan.”

“Copy that,” she said, distracted by a man approaching her side of the vehicle with a bag in hand.

Coy reached for his weapon and rested his hand on it.

“Easy there, Stone.” She rolled down her window, passed the man folded up cash, and he handed her the bag. “Thanks, Bud.”

“Not a problem, Sheriff. Stake out, huh?” Bud asked. “Them teenagers tippin’ old man Henry’s cows again?”

“Somethin’ like that.” She chuckled.

“Well, it’s sure a nice day for it. Enjoy your eats.” Bud said, walking off, crossing the street, and disappearing down the sidewalk.

Kenzie dug through the bag and pulled out a stack of napkins, a few plastic utensils, and a couple of cardboard food containers. She handed one to Coy.

“You ordered food. To a stake out. Now everyone knows we’re here and watching.” He shook his head and peeked inside the food container to find a pile of fries and what appeared to be a BLT sandwich.

“Well, they’re all going to think we are watching the juvenile delinquents in town, not watching for potential weed smugglers. Bud will have the whole town spreadin’ that gossip like wildfire in no time.”

“Why do you want him sharing anything at all?”

“One, because I’m hungry. Two, it kills two birds with one stone when the cow tippers catch wind and stop for a while, and three, this BLT is life-changing, and you’re going to thank me for it,” she said.

Coy pulled out a sandwich quarter and started to bite into it.

“Stop!” she hollered, causing him to drop his food. “You need this.”

Kenzie handed him a small Styrofoam cup. “Dip it.”

“What?”

“Dip it, Stone. The sandwich.”

Coy opened the container and snorted at its contents. “In ranch dressing?”

“Sure thing,” she said, dipping hers in the cup and taking a hearty bite.

“That sounds… disgusting. I’ll save the ranch for the fries, but the sandwich…”

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