Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

It was almost eight o'clock before Drew and two deputies got everyone back on their own property and unarmed. Another half hour and he had Maisy Aucoin's statement and was sitting in the most uncomfortable chair ever in the Lynch's front room trying not to lose his temper at the mayor, who was one windstorm away from having his brain's screen door knocked loose.

Drew pinched the bridge of his nose, let out a slow breath, and tried again. "Beauford, you lobbed a firecracker at Miss Maisy's cat—and it was a cherry bomb. Beyond being illegal, it was very dangerous." Not to mention idiotic, but mentioning that part w

asn't going to make anyone's life any better.

Beauford's fingers played a nervous drum solo on the arm of the couch he was sitting on. "It just slipped out of my hand."

Of all the bullshit answers, that one was as lame as it was a bald-face lie. A lit illegal firework just happened to slip out of the old man's hand and fly thirty feet across his backyard in the general direction of the fleeing tabby cat. The only thing that had saved the fur ball was the fact that at seventy-six, Beauford's aim sucked and he'd missed his mortal enemy by at least three feet.

"This is Texas," the mayor blustered. "A man's allowed to protect himself and his property."

From a ten pound cat?

Shaking his head, Drew took out the citation booklet he'd grabbed from his truck's glove box and flipped it open. "Cherry bombs are illegal under federal law."

"Well, whoop-de-friggin-do," the mayor said, his tone more than a might snarly.

Drew glanced up. The stubborn old goat was sitting with his chin cocked and his arms crossed with the certainty of privilege wrapped around him like a blanket. Any other day and Drew would have just written the ticket, done his duty, and made sure everything looked good just like he'd been taught all his life. However, tonight, he found that he didn't give a shit about how things looked. Let the town of Catfish Creek chatter, he was done taking shit from this man.

"Sir." Drew stood, closing his citation booklet. "I'm gonna have to take you in."

"On what charges?" Betty Sue asked, already reaching for her phone—no doubt to call their attorney.

"Possession of illegal fireworks and cruelty to animals for a start." Too bad general dumbassery and being a pain in the ass were constitutionally protected.

Beauford shot off the couch, faster than his arthritic knees probably appreciated. "You can't do that, I'm the mayor!"

There it was, the same veiled threat he'd heard a million times since he'd become sheriff. Friday couldn't come soon enough. He was sick and tired of the Groundhog Day his life had become.

He shrugged and grabbed the handcuffs hooked to his belt, not that he would use them on an old man but he couldn't wait to see Beauford's reaction. "What are you gonna do, have my job?"

"I know about Fort Worth, boy. Put those things on me and you can kiss that job goodbye right now."

Okay, now he was gonna put the bracelets on a seventy-six-year-old man. It might not be his proudest moment, but was going to be one he'd remember fondly for the rest of his life.

He let the joy of that fill his face. "Guess that means I'll just have to shake things up a bit then."

Maybe he'd even look into getting a winter coat and a pair of snow boots.

Leah

Leah had just settled in on the couch to binge watch some trashy reality TV when someone knocked on the door. That was Catfish Creek, mid-sized city with a small town feel. It was probably a recently divorced neighbor with a casserole for the single sheriff or a group from a local church here to save his soul—either way, they were bound to be disappointed when he failed to answer.

Remembering the promise she made to Drew, she tiptoed up to the door and peered through the peephole. Curtis stood on the front porch in his now slightly wrinkled suit. His sunglasses were cockeyed and, judging by the tension in his jaw, he wasn't too happy about it.

"You know when you do that, the peephole goes dark," Curtis said. "Let me in."

Busted.

She cracked open the door, keeping one foot planted behind it. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just need to do a house check." He took a step forward, jerking to an awkward stop and narrowing his eyes at her when she didn't open the door wider to let him in.

"Drew already did that."

Curtis shrugged and put his hand on the door, not pushing against it but letting his intentions be known. "It's standard procedure."

The little hairs on the back of her neck tingled. Something was off. "I'm gonna call Drew."