Page 22 of Billionaire Protector

“Any important cases at the department?” his father tugged him out of his head. “Are you working the serial arsonist case?”

“Yes, sir.” His father’s knowledge brokered no surprise. His dad knew everything about everything in Harmony Creek,retired or not. “Do you still keep an eye on matters even though you’re no longer sheriff?”

He imagined his father nodding. “After all these years, it’s in my blood. But the entire town knows about this case. It’s all anyone can talk about. Well, that and your return. Some of the ladies seemed especially interested.”

The words were teasing, yet a lighthearted hint lurked behind them, far more subtle than the regular nudges from his mother. He’d had relationships while in the service, yet he always broke it off before it became too serious, to avoid exposing a woman to his dangerous world. Since he’d been back, he hadn’t felt the urge to pursue anything, despite overtures from several new and old acquaintances.

Only that wasn’t entirely true. There was one acquaintance, or perhaps friend, or perhaps rival, or perhaps– He cleared his throat, retreated back to safety. “There aren’t any leads in the case yet, but we’re hopeful for a break. Sooner or later, he’s bound to make a mistake.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. Perhaps his father’s knowledge could shed light on another mystery. “We had another visitor yesterday. Do you remember Alfred Tanning?”

“What has the reprobate done now?” By his dad’s somber voice, he was well aware of the situation. “Is he still giving Sarah a hard time?”

So this was a regular occurrence? Unease tightened his chest, along with the distinct impression he was missing something significant. “He showed up at the police station in pretty bad shape.”

“Drunk again?”

Cole frowned. “I’m gathering this isn’t the first time.”

“Not the second, third or even the hundredth,” his dad replied gruffly. “He drinks about as often as he breathes. That man will never change.”

Cole’s frown deepened. His father’s recollection didn’t align with his memories. He walked forward, grabbed a black shirt and a pair of blue jeans from his closet. “I don’t remember him being an alcoholic. Actually, I don’t remember much about him at all, which is unusual for a small town, especially since Sarah’s mom died when she was a baby. He always seemed out of the picture.”

“He managed to make it a little less obvious back then,” Jack grumbled. “He was most assuredly not of the picture. Maybe Sarah would’ve been better off if he had been.” He exhaled. “It’s too late for regrets, though.”

Cole smoothed out the clothing on the bed, plucking away invisible wrinkles. “What do you mean?”

His father paused before answering. “Nothing. Just don’t be too hard on Sarah. Sometimes the obvious isn’t so obvious.”

Now what didthatmean? Combined with Alfred’s cryptic statements, it seemed like there was a whole lot Cole didn’t know. He would’ve asked if he thought it would do any good, but his father’s tone said the subject was closed, at least for now. Instead they chatted about random matters before hanging up with the promise to speak again soon. He would have to find another way to get the information he needed.

Perhaps it was time to do some investigating of his own.

* * * *

Sarah reclined in the oversized white wicker rocking chair, one of a matched set on her wraparound porch, and gazed out at the perfect day. Not a cloud marred the baby blue sky, watched over by a brightly shining sun charming and warming the world. A soft breeze swept by, rustling the trees and tickling her skin. Birds chirped late morning melodies, broken only by the soft whisper of squirrels and other tiny creatures in the underbrush.She relaxed, comfortable in the first place she’d ever really thought of as home.

The two-bedroom cottage was modest, but it was warm and cozy, created with personal touches and exquisite care. Decorated in the Victorian style with lace, satin and antiques, the home might seem silly for a police sheriff, but for her it was perfect. Of course, she didn’t have a lot of money to spare, so most of the decorations had been hand-crafted or purchased from inexpensive craft fairs or thrift shops. Her childhood home had been austere and without feminine touches, dirty on good days and filthy on bad. Her current home was the one indulgence to offset all she’d missed. What would Cole say if he saw it? She had no plans to find out.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

Unfortunately, he’d already dipped into her background when he took her inebriated father home. No doubt he saw Alfred’s apartment, which, despite her best efforts, remained sad and cluttered with items he refused to relinquish. At least it wasn’t dirty, due to her spending a small fortune on a determined cleaning lady who came twice a month. Still, anything Cole might have seen paled to what he might have heard. Had her father told him the truth about her past?

She wouldn’t think about that now, not when she needed to figure out how to deal with him in the present. Keeping their relationship strictly business was the best path, and hopefully would allow them to create a professional relationship that had nothing to do with ill-advised kisses.

Too bad she couldn’t stop thinking about ill-advised kisses.

Sarah rose from the chair. She loved her carefree Saturday mornings, but if she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the first event of the Harmony Creek Fun and Fit Festival, an annual outdoor event featuring athletic activities and competitions. She walked to her older, compact car, which didn’t boast a single upgradeand made a variety of interesting noises, yet was at least clean and still running. She could’ve afforded a better one if she didn’t spend so much on her father, but she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t shirk her responsibilities, even if it meant driving a tin can with wheels. She entered the tin can, cranked down the windows and turned the key.

Then she amended that part about the tin can still running.

The car didn’t even try. Didn’t give the slightest indication it had any interest in trying. Not even the weakest, teeniest, tiniest attempt.

Well, damn.

She turned the key again. Once more, twice more, thrice more – nothing. She exited the car, popped the hood and peered into the engine. There were no obvious problems, no gushing oil, smoke swirling or frayed wires (all of which had happened in the lastthreemonths), so she’d need to bring it to Sam, Harmony Creek’s sole mechanic. Since he wasn’t open on weekends, she’d have no choice but to wait until Monday.

Her patrol car was at the station, but if she got a lift, she could use it for the rest of the weekend. She retrieved her cell and dialed Zoe, who promised to be there soon. Fifteen minutes to the dot later, the rumble of a car broke the silence. Sarah looked up with a smile, yet instead of Zoe’s cute hatchback, a sleek black luxury sports car cruised to a stop in front of her house.

There was only one person in Harmony Creek who would own a car like that.

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