Page 45 of Sirens
And for reasons Maggie didn’t understand, she found herself confirming it.
“Yes.”
The sheriff’s lips tightened into a line. “No wonder the mayor has his Jockeys in a knot.”
Curiosity gnawed Maggie’s stomach hollow. She wanted nothing more than to press Kiki about what she knew but knew this was neither the time nor place.
“Which is why I secured permission from the historical society to show Miss Michaels the property,” McGarvey offered. “When we discovered another mermaid carving in the passage, we elected to follow where it led, which is where we found this,” he said, holding up the brothel menu.
The sheriff took it, her eyes widening as they flicked over the contents.
“It’s the last one that has us stumped,” McGarvey said. “Any theories?”
As ridiculous as it was, Maggie felt a prickle of irritation creep up her spine. The menu had felt like a secret between the two of them, and by consulting his ranking officer, he’d all but invited her into their investigation.
“Anyway,” McGarvey continued, “after we found that, we followed the passage here, then Miss Michaels noticed what she thought was part of one of those mermaid carvings behind the deep freezer here, and?—”
“You unbuckled your belt in case you needed to create an emergency tourniquet should she accidentally lose a finger reaching behind the freezer as she bent over it to get a picture?” The sheriff looked up from the menu, one expertly tweezed brow lifting.
McGarvey’s Adam’s apple bobbed beneath the clean-shaven skin of his throat. “Something like that.”
They locked eyes as the sheriff handed the menu back, and Maggie felt the cool, damp air shift. Tension crackled between them like a downed power line.
And all at once, the realization hit her like a freight train.
McGarvey’s twitchy nerves, his reluctance to look her in eye, the blurted admissions.
Sheriff Smoke Show and Deputy Trent McGarvey hadtotallyfucked.
Maggie’s lungs felt heavy and tight, her stomach a cold ball in her ribcage.
It wasn’t the first time Maggie had felt like an outsider in this small town steeped in secrets and fueled by gossip, but this revelation stirred up something deeper, more personal. A something that delivered the ruthless knowledge that if the sheriff was McGarvey’s type, then Maggie most definitely was not.
The radio clipped to the sheriff’s belt squawked, and she thumbed a button to silence it.
“As much as I hate to interrupt your important work, I think it would be best that you two head back the way you came. Immediately, if not sooner.”
McGarvey nodded, giving Maggie aplease cooperateglance.
Though she knew the sheriff was doing them a favor by allowing them to leave covertly, being shooed away like a scolded teenager sincerely chapped her ass.
Either way, Maggie needed to be where the sheriff was not while at least a couple shreds of her self-esteem remained intact. Scooting down from the freezer, she plucked the folded parchment from McGarvey’s hands and made a beeline for the door to the passage.
“If it were me, I’d talk to Vivian Prescott,” the sheriff called right as Maggie closed her hand over the door handle. “Before she met Myrtle Le Grande and decided to scandalize a small Pacific Northwest town, she earned a Ph.D. in sexual anthropology.”
Beautiful, athletic, powerful,andhelpful.
Yep, it was official.
Maggie hated her guts.
Muttering a barely audible “thanks,” she yanked open the door and barreled down the passageway. She didn’t bother to look back to see if McGarvey followed, her steps quickening as her eyes began to sting.
“Hey,” he called, his footsteps echoing on the stone as he loped to catch up with her. “Hold up.”
“When?” Maggie asked.
“Whenwhat?” McGarvey asked, falling into step beside her.
