Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” Beckett asks from her desk. I keep forgetting she’s here.
“Nothing.”
“Are you going to the wedding?”
"Yes," I say as I pull up my previous camera footage on Kindred’s house to rewind and check when the camera on the left side of her driveway was moved.
“Me too.” That has me lifting my head to realize she’s gotten up to come stand partly behind me.
“You got invited?” Kindred isn’t a fan of Beckett, which has my own hackles rising about the woman. Kindred is sweet to everyone. While she can be prickly, she is still sweet but goofy. But it could be over the Tinsley incident.
"The whole town is invited."
"You don't live in this town," I remind her. She might be in the same county but not the same town. And yes, that makes a difference. These small towns outside of the city can be as competitive as high school football in Texas about things.
"Yet, but I ran into the mayor's fiancée, and she invited me." Beckett makes her way back over to her desk.
"Candy? Pregnant girl with the really blond hair?" If Kindred doesn't care for Beckett, that means she's also on Candy's shit list.
"Yes, she was with Mayor Hollis. He introduced himself to me outside of the diner this morning."
Kindred might be coming around. She often does that with people. It's endearing how protective she is over everyone. It shows you how fierce of a mother she'll be one day. She wouldn't run out on her child or even say a curse word. Kindred would rather die than ever harm a child.
I fantasize about seeing her as a mother running our home as much as I do about sliding my dick inside of her and coming home there too. Imagining her round with my child in the house I built to suit her dreams is not something I should be doing while I’m at work.
“Thought maybe I could catch a ride with you. Was planning on having a few drinks, so I don’t want to drive.”
“A ride? You don’t live here,” I remind her again. “How did you manage last night?”
“I’m staying at Mulberry Inn until after New Year’s. Hopefully by then I’ll have found a place here in town.”
That won't be easy. Not only will she have to find a place, but people who own homes in town also want to know the person and get a feel for them. If she's on Kindred's shit list, she won't be getting one. Now, there are Airbnbs, but they are set farther out of town. I keep a list of them and know the owners. Most live in the city but enjoy coming out here for a weekend or a month around the holidays.
"You'll have a better chance of finding something after the new year, as we start to head into our less busy season," I tell her. "I can’t give you a ride. I don’t know what all the plans are that day.” For all I know, Kindred might have a giant list of things she needs help with. Plus, she’s my date. After last night, is she still thinking it’s her teaching me how to date and be with a woman?
“Oh, okay.”
I go back a week in footage to start. The camera is in the correct location. I click through each day until I find which day it was moved. When I hit day five, it moves. I start rolling the footage backward and find it.
Damn. I can’t see anyone, but I see the camera lift and then move a couple of feet before it’s put back into the ground. I could almost believe that maybe a person hit it, not realizing it was there until they did, and then tried to fix it, but this was at three o'clock in the fucking morning.
All of that to slash a tire? I don’t know what to make of it, but I hop over to a few other cameras and see if they possibly caught something in a corner. I’ll take anything at this point, but there is nothing there. I’ll have to get different cameras. These aren’t that noticeable, but they aren’t hidden either.
When people see security cameras, it is part of the deterrent to do anything. A lot of people put up fake ones. I’ll leave these and add a few others.
“You know we’ve met before.” I lift my head to turn in her direction. I had thought her face was familiar but couldn’t place it, which isn’t the norm for me.
“When?”
“You really don’t remember?”
“I meet a lot of people here.”
“It wasn’t here.” Beckett doesn’t elaborate more. She’s waiting for me to ask the next question. I won’t. If people want to tell you things, they will. You don’t have to pry information out of people, and I’m not fond of small talk. That’s where this is headed. I should send her out to patrol. "It was a funeral."