Page 53 of Average Joe

Laughing, I carried Ginger through the house, out the back door, and set her down outside the shed. I found the shovel, filled Marley’s hole, packed the dirt nice and tight, then stacked large rocks against the fence so my mangy little princess couldn’t dig in that area anymore.

I whistled. “C’mon, girl. Let’s go for a ride.”

I searched to my left, then my right, just in time to see a tiny brown tail slip under the fence.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Marley

“You have got to be kidding me.” I stared, disbelieving, at the pile of charred rubble that used to be my coffee stand in the South Park neighborhood.

A few skeletal remains stood, one corner of the frame pointing skyward like a middle finger to the rising sun. Firefighters loaded gear back onto their truck.

The place had been engulfed in flames when Jessica arrived for her shift, and she’d called 911, then me. Already fifteen minutes into my own shift, I’d had to wait for Lilly to arrive, which she did in record time, thank you, Jesus, before I made my trek to the scene.

“Nobody saw a thing?” My voice quivered, and my hands shook.

“No, ma’am.” Officer Watson jotted notes on his pad, then nodded over his shoulder. “Property across the street has security cameras, but they’ve been down all week. Owner said somebody messed with the connection.” He shifted his weight from one hip to the other. “I understand you had cameras?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, staring, vision blurry, into the destruction.

“Would like a look at that feed.”

“Sure.” I nodded. “Of course. I can view the recording from my home office.”

Jessica kicked at a pile of charred wood. “We already know it was that strip-club pervert.”

The cop caught my glare. “Something you wanna tell me?

I shook my head too fast and too hard. “Harper wouldn’t stoop this low.”

“Johan Harper?” the cop asked, wrinkles forming between his brows.

“Yes,” I mumbled, not surprised that Harper was on the SPD radar.

“Nothing is beneath that man.” He scribbled a note, then shoved the pad into his breast pocket. “What’s your connection to Harper?” he asked, crossing beefy arms across his chest.

I sighed, knowing the conversation was futile, but playing along nonetheless. “He comes by once a week. When I’m not here, he tries to recruit my girls. When I’m in, he insists we go into business together.”

Officer Watson cleared his throat. “Doing what?”

“I know better than to ask.”

He nodded, his blue eyes brightening as if in approval. “Has he threatened you?”

“No.” Not outright. “He’s just persistent in offering a partnership.”

The cop studied me, not wholly convinced. Though he remained stoic, the judgment was there behind his eyes—nothing I wasn’t used to seeing. People assumed the worst about me and my girls.What kind of woman would run a sexy coffee stand, let alone work at one? I’ll tell you who—a girl who had no other choice. People could keep on wondering. My reasons were nobody’s business but mine.

I held the officer’s gaze, forcing my chin high, feigning confidence.

“All right, Miss Masters,” Watson conceded, pulling a card from his pocket. “I’ll be in touch about that feed. Here’s my contact info. Call if you have any questions or need anything in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” I squeaked, my throat dry.

Jessica leaned into me, and I wrapped an arm around her shoulders while we watched the officer settle into his car.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “You can take my shifts at the Burien stand until we get this mess sorted.”

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