Page 21 of Sour Layer

Clark pulled up outside the cabin and threw the truck into park without getting out.

“Who lives here?”

“Walker Bennett,” Clark answered with a sigh. “I should probably warn you that he’s the eldest of the Bennetts and doesn’t like me much.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the front door burst open, and the Bennett in question walked out, pointing a shotgun in their direction.

“Let me talk to him.” Mercy said.

Before he could answer, Mercy got out of the car.

“Jesus, she’s going to get herself killed,” Clark grumbled as he hurried to catch up to her.

“You’re trespassing, Sheriff, and so is your new friend,” Walker called out, only lowering the barrel slightly toward the ground at their feet.

Her boots crunched in the snow as Mercy kept walking.

“Put that gun away,” Mercy said as she stepped up onto the porch and kicked the snow off her boots. “You’re a Bennett for cripes’ sake, and that’s no way for you to act. If our great-grandparents were alive, they’d be taking a paddle to your butt.”

Walker lowered the gun to where it was resting at the ground and glanced at Clark with a confused look. “Is she serious?”

Clark shrugged. “I guess. What I do know is she’s stubborn like the rest of you lot. So, you might as well hear us out.”

Walker didn’t move. He just turned his gaze back on Mercy. “Your great-grandfather stole something from mine. What do you know about that?”

“Get real,” Mercy said. “I’ve got enough of my own issues to deal with, without caring about a family squabble that happened decades ago. We have more pressing matters to discuss.”

“You think the theft wasn’t a big deal?”

“Not as big as two missing girls and their dead parents. Now quit being rude and invite us in because I’m starting to lose feeling in my toes.”

Walker met Clark’s gaze again. “Two girls?”

“The Lynnfields,” Clark said. “They’re the ones who tore down and built over the—”

“I knew nothing good would come out of rebuilding on that property,” Walker said, walking back into his house.

They took that as an invitation and followed since he didn’t shoot them or lock the door.

Walker Bennett didn’t make any excuses for the pizza boxes and beer cans sitting on his coffee table. He led the way into the kitchen.

“I was just about to make some coffee,” he said.

“I’d like sugar and cream,” Mercy called out as she slipped up next to the fire and held her fingers in front of the flames.

“There’s no cream in this house,” he called back.

“Or manners,” she whispered, glancing at Clark. “Fine, I’ll take it black like your heart.”

“Mercy...” Her name was whispered as Clark closed the distance between them. “You shouldn’t poke the bear.”

“Please.” Mercy rolled her eyes. “My sister Gwen is ten times worse than this guy, and I had to deal with her every day.”

Walker returned with two coffee cups in his hand. He handed one to Mercy and gestured with his head toward the kitchen. “Go make your own, Sheriff. I don’t run a restaurant here.”

“Clearly,” Mercy said, gesturing toward the pizza boxes.

“You’ll have to forgive my hospitality; I reserve my niceties for someone who deserves them. Not the granddaughter of a thief or the man who tried to kill my brother.”