Page 30 of Island Homecoming

He veered away from the scary thoughts and leaned into the anger. Caldwell would hear about this. The warehouse was no place for a drug seizure of this size. The chief needed to get those drugs off the island.

Mindful that the alarms were silent at the nursery itself, Nash cut the headlights and put his truck into neutral, coasting to a stop half a block away. He had a good view of the front entrance and the path leading around to the side entrance he and his employees used most often. There was no visible police presence yet.

Why not?

Maybe it was something as simple as a possum or an owl. Animals had never set off the alarms before, but that didn’t make it impossible.

Moving quietly, he left his truck and walked closer. Hearing muffled voices near the side entrance, he paused, using the hedge at the property line for cover. He wasn’t armed. Not trained. Angry or not, he couldn’t jump out and confront whoever might be attempting to break in.

His phone vibrated in his hand and he scurried back to his truck to answer the call. “Billings,” he murmured.

“Police are on the scene, sir. We’ll have more information for you shortly.”

“No, they aren’t,” Nash protested, but the call dropped. He swore.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket, debating his options. Smarter to stay put. Except someone had tripped the alarm. And unless those voices belonged to the cops, more than one someone was still nosing around his business.

Jess would be furious if he intervened. He could already imagine her reading him the riot act. But he couldn’t let whoever was over there get away.

He’d give the cops two more minutes. Then he heard someone barking out orders. That commanding tone belonged to Jess.

His business. His girl. He would not hide in the shadows.

Following his instincts, he ran. Staying low, crossing the street and following the shadows of the hedge all the way to the side door.

“Freeze! Police!” A deep voice boomed from behind the sudden glare of a flashlight.

Too late, Nash remembered that there were folks on the security team that weren’t from the island. People who didn’t know locals on sight. He stopped short, raising his hands and squinting against the bright light. “Nash Billings. I own this business and property.”

“Nash?” The light dropped away from Nash’s face. “Do you have a death wish? Put your arms down. It’s Lieutenant Frasier.”

Nash’s body sagged with relief. “Hey, Will. I tried to wait.”

“Uh-huh.” Frasier snorted. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Nash refused to apologize for taking action to protect his property. “What’s going on?”

“Two officers are in pursuit,” Frasier said. “Come on inside. You can tell me if anything’s missing.”

Nash shoved through the hedge to join Frasier at the door. “My security lights should be on.” He pointed to the corner of the building. “Dad installed highly sensitive motion detector lights.”

Frasier’s flashlight illuminated the fixture at the corner of the building. “Yeah. I helped your dad make the upgrade.”

“That’s right.” Nash remembered. “After we caught those kids trying to grow mushrooms in the greenhouse.” He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t on a razor’s edge. “As if we wouldn’t notice that sketchy pan of dirt shoved under the back counter.”

“You’d be surprised what people overlook.”

Frasier would know. The lieutenant had decades of police work under his belt. He’d probably heard it all. Nash understood how easy it was to fall into a rut and miss the details. There were days when his body went through the maintenance clients on autopilot, especially at properties they’d serviced for a long time.

Unfortunately for those kids with mushroom ambitions, the Billings family and crew had been alert.

Frasier peered closer at the mounting bracket for the light. “Looks like they cut the wires.”

“How’d they manage that without tripping the sensor?”

“Daylight,” Frasier deadpanned. “Y’all aren’t here all the time.”

The lieutenant made a good point. “True.”

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