Page 6 of The Harborer
He held up his mug. “Where do I put this?”
“I’ve got it.” Amy took it from him.
“Does Hailey have a key?”
The question didn’t surprise her. She’d expected it since he’d slid her the side-eye. “Well, she did, but she returned it when she stopped working for me. On the rare occasions she opens for me or needs to get to her books, I’ll loan her one, but she always returns it. And she definitely isn’t the one doing this.” Even if Haileywasn’tAmy’s best friend, she simply wasn’t capable. The girl didn’t have a sneaky bone in her body.
He shook his head. “Don’t misunderstand. I was merely trying to mentally add up the number of keys out there so we can account for them. There’s a chance one of them might have gone missing.” He paused a beat. “Can you tell me why Micky no longer has a key?”
Amy swallowed. She hadn’t been prepared forthisquestion, though she should have seen it coming. “Well, I … uh …”
He held up his hand in a stopping motion. “That’s okay. How about you text me those pictures? And let me know if anything else wonky happens, or if stuff disappears?”
Amy nodded like a bobblehead on the dashboard of a moving car.
“One last thing. Have you thought about installing security cameras?”
“In Fall River?” she blurted.
“Crime can happen anywhere.”
“Oh, right. Never mind.” Fall River had gone through a spate of crimes in a short time, but the town had since returned to its sleepy normal.
“I can come back and help you spec some, if you like.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that was a Sheriff’s Department service.”
“It’s not. It’s a Shane O’Brien service.”
Her blush threatened to heat her face once more. “Thanks, Shane. I’d like that.” Butterflies or moths or some other winged insect tickled her insides as she walked him to the door.
Pausing, he looked at her over his shoulder with a half-smile. “Thanks for the coffee. I needed that.”
Her phone rang with a familiar tone, and she plucked it from her pocket. “Hey, Mick. How’s your day going?”
She glanced up at Shane, who stood stock-still, his eyes riveted to her.
“Oh you know,” Micky drawled. “Same old bullshit. I had to run a wreck up to GJ.”
Grand Junction? Hadn’t Shane said Durango? Before she could ask Micky about that, he ran on. “Yeah, I’m still dealing with these assholes at the tow yard. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. Looks like I’m going to be stuck here for a while.” He exhaled noisily. “I won’t be home till late, thanks to these clowns.”
“What time is ‘late’?”
Annoyance crept into his tone. “I don’t know. Nine, ten o’clock. I’m facing a three-hour drive.”
“From Grand Junction,” Amy deadpanned.Not Durango.
“Yeah, from Grand Junction. Isn’t that what I said? The roads are shit, so that’ll add at least a half hour. Plus, I’m hungry and need to grab something to eat. Don’t wait up.”
Amy’s blood pounded in her ears. She kept her voice at an even keel. “Why don’t you text me when you leaveGJso I knowwhen to expect you?” Grand Junction was two-and-a-half hours away on most days. Durango was an hour closer.
“I’ll try to remember,” he muttered.
He hung up, and she stared blankly at her phone. In her peripheral vision, she could feel Shane’s gaze still glued to her. Had he heard Micky out and out lie to her? God, she hoped not.
Shane scanned the parking lot, which held only his personal pickup—a storm-gray GMC Sierra. Softly, he asked, “Do you need a ride home?”
God, he was sweet. She shook her head, finally gathering the gumption to meet his gaze. “No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
