Page 60 of Entangled

“I am. Tiff told me you would be stopping by.” She gives me a tight smile in return. “You can call me Leah or Sheriff Reynolds, whichever you prefer.” Holding out a hand, she gestures to the glassed-in office toward the back. “Why don’t we step into my office?”

“Perfect.”

We stare at each other for a beat, but when she doesn’t make a move, I get the clue and start to walk to the office at the back. Reminding myself again that I need something from these people and now is not the time to get into an epic showdown regardless of how much I dislike the feeling of someone I barely know at my back. Law enforcement or not.

That’s not entirely true though, is it, El?

I push down the spark of memory and take the seat in front of her desk, watching as she closes the door, trying to figure out what’s causing my gut to pull with unease. She takes a seat behind the desk and gives me another tight smile. An aloof energy pouring off of her and clueing me in as to why Jace and her probably don’t vibe very well. I couldn’t imagine a person further on the opposite side of the spectrum from Tiff if I tried.

Man. I’d love to be at a family dinner where she joined the table.

She places her hands on the desk, eyes rolling over my face before coming back to mine. “You really are the spitting image of your mother.” A soft, humorless laugh leaves her. “For a minute there, I thought it was Nadia’s ghost when I saw you.”

I muster up a friendly voice, trying to keep things amicable but not finding any humor in the topic like she apparently does. “Did you know her well?” I ask, sliding my eyes across her office and noting the multitude of accolades.

“No.” She shakes her head. “No. Not really. Anna was the one who was closest to her.”

“Right,” I mutter, more than ready to move things along. “So did Tiff tell you why I was stopping by?”

“She did.” Nodding, she leans back in her chair and tilts her head at me in consideration. “You want the police file on your parents’ deaths, correct?”

“Yes. If you still have it, that is.”

“We do.” She dips her head once. “It would be up in central storage in Mobile but, yes, I could get the file if you want it.” She pauses, eyeing me critically. “But Eleanor, I have to warn you. That file is, well, a grisly thing. I’m not sure you really understand the graphic nature of it. The photos, descriptions, I was on call that night and… I wouldn’t want my child seeing that if it were me.”

Shock runs through me and my voice comes out quieter than I would like. “You were there?”

“Yes.” Her lips purse in displeasure at the memory. “I was only a junior deputy but with a station as small as this, everyone was there.”

“Can you—” I clear my throat. “Can you tell me who placed the 9-1-1 call that night?”

“If I remember correctly, it was an anonymous call.”

I cock my head at her and narrow my eyes. “And no one found that strange?”

She gives me a brittle smile. “It was clear what had happened from the scene. No one felt the need to chase down one loose end. I’m afraid if you’re looking for a different story here, you won’t find one.”

“I’m not,” I snap, done playing nice. It’s not like I was ever any good at it anyway. “I’m just looking for answers. So can you get me the file?”

“Yes,” she responds icily. “I’ll put in the request today but it’ll probably take them a month to process the request and dig out the file since it’s from before we digitalized everything”

“That’s fine.” My lips twitch up into a bratty smirk that drips attitude. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She gives me another brittle smile. “Good. Now that’s settled, do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, thanks, Sheriff. Pretty sure I can find my way.”

***

I pull into one of only two gas stations in town on my way to meet Jace at the beach, still trying to shake off the lingering edginess from my meeting with Sheriff Reynolds. Totally understanding Jace’s obvious dislike of the woman now. Frigid and uptight are putting it mildly. That one short meeting has me feeling like I need to smoke a blunt and dance naked on the beach if only to remove the stick that was probably inserted into my ass just from being in her presence. Tiff must have had a hell of a time growing up with that woman. I hop out of my car and swipe my card to pay, musing about Tiff’s psychological makeup and giving her the honorary diagnosis of overexuberant by way of a frigid mother.

I’m so lost in thought that it’s not until I’m already pumping the gas that I notice the guy staring at me from across the pump. And not in the polite, hi, this is awkward forced proximity, but we’re going to smile than avoid eye contact kind of way. This guy won’t look away from me and something about it sends tendrils of warning racing along my spine.

Watching the numbers tick by at what feels like a snail’s pace, I try to get as good of a look at him as I can without clueing him in as to what I’m doing. I can see his blond hair out of the corner of my eye, almost as light as mine but more yellow in color, like he dyed it out of a box. There’s a scar digging deep into the side of his face, starting below his temple and working its way up before it disappears into his hairline. He looks a bit older than me, but not by much, and his features say he should be attractive, yet he somehow falls flat. As if there’s no life to him.

A nasty kind of chuckle leaves him as he stares at me and that right there is enough to set me off in my current state.

Wrong fucking day to mess with me, asshole.

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