Page 89 of Dining for Love
Raising my eyebrows, I do as he says and pull a chair close to him. I’m not interested in my hunch being broadcast to the world. “First, answer me something. I know I asked already, but I’m going to ask again. Did you get any kind of look at the guy who shot you?”
His face hardens with frustration. “No. Someone knocked at my door, and I went to answer it. I open the door, and something gets tossed at my chest. I bend down to catch it, reflexes and all that, and the next thing I know, a pair of black boots and pants are in my line of vision. Then I hear a pop, and I’m shot.” He shakes his head. “I’ve gone over it a million ways. Whoever it was, they knew when to strike, and they had a clean shot. If I’d not bent down to grab that stupid rabbit foot…”
My jaw clenches so hard I might crack a tooth. “I know. That’s their signature. They left two on my front door in the weeksleading up to them shooting you.” I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “I’m…Jesus, Jack. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
“No,” he responds, his tone brooking no argument. “You listen to me, Reid, and listen well. This isn’t your fault.”
“They’re afterme.”
“That may be, but you’re not the one who shot me. So it’s not your fault.”
I shake my head, unconvinced. “Your word against mine, Chief.”
He sighs. “Just as stubborn as your dad, you know that? You going to tell me your hunch?”
I scoot forward in answer. “I asked Betty to pull all the calls that came into the station over the past two months. Then, I asked her to pull one more month because I was having a hard time believing what I was seeing.”
“What kind of reports?”
“Any time it was about a crime. Not the ones about lost pets and resetting the town clock—the real ones.”
Chief smiles softly. “You look a seven-year-old in the face and tell them that their missing iguana isn’t a problem for the cops to solve and watch their reaction. I promise you, son, those arereal.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, small-town guy. I get it. Anyway, the pattern. Every time it was a call about something bad happening, Thompson wasn’t on shift.”
Jack stills. “What?”
I nod. “I can’t quite believe that this means he’s our guy, but I’m having a hard time wondering if he doesn’t somehow have something to do with them.” There’s more I want to say, about the way his prejudices aren’t doing the residents of this town any good and how cops like him make our jobs that much harder, but now isn’t the time.
With a sigh, my uncle says, “He wants to be chief, Reid. You need to think very carefully before you go throwing accusations like this around.”
“Believe me, I get it. I do. But something’s off with him. Don’t tell me you never see it.”
He shrugs. “There’s always an odd duck or two on every police force. Figured that was just the role he was playing.”
My eyes bug out. “And you think it’s okay that he wants to be chief?”
Jack huffs. “Focus on the facts in front of you, Reid. Tell me more.”
With a deep breath, I detail everything I learned, and how some of it mimics a lot of the things that are signatures of the Bunnies. At the end, my uncle simply stares at me.
I hold my hands up. “It’s just a hunch.”
“You’re telling me there may be mob activity in my town? Going on right under my nose, and I’ve never seen it?”
“The Bunnies aren’t exactly the mob,” I hedge, “and I still have a hard time seeing how Thompson’s connected to them, but Jack, I don’t see any other way around it. Nothing else makes sense, despite how small-brained the man is.”
He flattens his mouth into a thin line. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Reid.”
I stand, understanding the dismissal.
“Wait a minute.”
I pause.
“How’s Willa?”
My chest fucking caves. And apparently my expression goes right along with it.