Curvy Valentine Match

“Good idea.” There’d been hints of a small drug problem emerging on the outskirts of Pilgrim, and it was my job to stay on top of it. “Better safe than sorry. Let’s go.”

Tara jumped behind the wheel with no objections from me. My mind was too full of thoughts from the past to focus on something as mundane as driving. “So, these thoughts, anything you need to talk about?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Any sign of drug activity at the farm house in the past month?”

“Suspicions of it, yeah, but nothing concrete. I’ve had no reason to come down here though, so who knows?” Tara shrugged and turned the wheel onto the gravel road that led to the rickety looking red structure. “Let’s hope it’s just a giant dead rodent or something.”

“It’s Pilgrim, so that’s the mostly likely scenario, but let’s do this the right way, just to be safe.” We took our time going inside, searching for homeless teenagers, rotten boards or any sign of drug activity. Or cooking, food or otherwise.

“I’ll sweep left and you go right,” she said and stepped inside. The first room, the living room, was empty with a few dusty pieces of furniture and discarded beer bottles. “Clear.”

I tapped her shoulder and we entered the next part of the house, where a small figure was crouched on the ground. “Hey, Sheriff’s Department, stop right there!”

“Ugh, seriously?” The annoyed toned was familiar, and when she stood and turned to us, my shoulders relaxed. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t think so, Mara. What are you doing here? This is trespassing, you know?”

She cocked a brow at me and let out a bitter laugh. “You planning to arrest me?”

“No,” Tara said, stepping between us. “But, what are you doing here?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Looking for Lonnie. I haven’t seen her at the bakery in a few days, and I was concerned.” Concerned. That was crap and we both knew it. Tension tightened her shoulders and pulled her mouth into a straight white line.

“Why?” I marched around Tara and grabbed the stubborn woman by the arm. “We got reports this was a suspected drug lab, it’s not safe for you to just be traipsing around here by yourself.” The thought of something bad happening to her didn’t sit right with me, and I didn’t care if it made her hate me more. If that’s even possible.

Mara yanked her arm from my grasp. “First of all, I don’t traipse. Second of all, you worry about whatever you came here to do, and I’ll worry about myself.” She folded her arms and her brown gaze bounced from me to Tara. “Anything else?”

“You think Lonnie’s been staying here?”

She shrugged. “It’s a semi solid structure with walls to protect against the chill, so it’s a possibility.” Arms folded, Mara was the picture of defensive and defiant.

“This is no place for a child. Why haven’t you reported this?”

She glared at me and I swear, for just a moment, there was hatred in her eyes. “Because not all homes are better than living on the streets, Sheriff. Can I go?”

“Yes,” Tara said firmly. “You can go.”

Mara stormed off and I sighed. “Make sure she gets out safely.”

“Got it.” Tara wore a knowing smile as she saluted me and then hurried off after Mara, who clearly still hated my guts. It stung as much as it had the day I showed up at Ms. Landon’s house and found her gone.

I don’t know why she hated me so much, and she never gave me a chance to ask, but that didn’t mean I would let any harm come to her, or anyone else within Pilgrim town limits.

“Xander, up here!” Tara’s voice pulled me from my musings and I went upstairs.

“What’d you find?”

She gestured to the row of tables and glass vessels set up inside the master bedroom. “Looks like small scale drug manufacturing. Very small scale by the look of things.”

It wasn’t big, but that’s how they all started, with small basement operations that grew right along with rising demand. “Let’s get forensics in here, see what we can find.”

“Already called, but according to Mara none of these kids are in the system.”

“Not yet,” I grunted, but street kids could pick up a sheet for something as small as shoplifting while the more privileged kids would find a way out of it.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No Tara, I don’t.”

She laughed and shook her head, hands fisted on her hips. “I always suspected there was some bad blood between you two, but now I know it’s history.” She laughed again, louder this time and I glared at her.

“Glad you find her hatred of me so amusing.”

“Not amusing,” she clarified. “It’s just that’s the kind of animosity that comes from a shared history. A messy shared history, and I’m curious as hell, because you both are so damn tight lipped.”