Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series

by Adrienne Giordano

  “I guess he—and you—have nothing to be concerned about, then.”

  * * *

  Reid left Brynne's shop and rather than move the truck, hoofed it to the sheriff's office just down the block at the intersection of Buckner and Main. Knowing Mags, she wouldn't pony up any info on an active case, but he wouldn't let that stop him from butting in.

  He brought his focus to the Steele Ridge law enforcement center, a one-story brick building that had to be a hundred years old. When Maggie had taken office, she'd massaged the budget and went to work on asbestos removal and repainting.

  He pushed through the glass door and was greeted with homey beige walls and tiled floors that replaced peeling white paint and cracked laminate.

  Shari, Maggie's assistant, sat at her desk, fielding a flurry of calls. She glanced up and hit a button on her phone.

  “She saw you coming. Go on in.”

  Maggie's office window faced the center of town. If she was in her office, she saw everything. Including her pain-in-the-ass cousin making his way to her.

  “Thanks, Shari.”

  She punched the button on the phone again and went back to her call.

  “Forget it,” Mags said before he even got to her office.

  “What kind of greeting is that for your favorite cousin?”

  “Nice try. I saw you leave Brynne's shop. I'm not telling you anything more than what I did this morning. It's an active investigation.”

  He dropped into one of the guest chairs. “You know I can help you. Make me a temporary deputy or something.”

  That made her smile. “Oh, that would be something.”

  They both laughed because, yeah, Reid as a deputy probably wasn't a great idea. He didn't have enough patience for the bullshit Mags and her deputies put up with in this town.

  He'd be locking people up just for being stupid. Hell, they'd need an additional jail for all those arrests.

  He needed a career, though.

  He cleared his throat, fought to focus on his visit to Mags. “Anything new on Nelson?”

  She pointed at him. “Two words. Active. Investigation.”

  “Mags, seriously, I can walk over to the Triple B and get a full update.”

  “Then I guess you'll have to do that. I'm not compromising this investigation. Now, if that's all you wanted, beat it. I love you, but I have work to do.”

  That wasn't all he wanted. He wanted to talk. Yep, he'd admit it to himself. A man—last he checked anyway—wanting to talk. Only he didn't know how to say that without sounding like a sissy.

  His cousin sat back, studied him for a few seconds, then rested her hands in her lap. “I know that look. You need to vent. Or something. What's up?”

  Once again, Mags had saved him from himself.

  “Work.”

  “What about it?”

  “Uh, my lack of it.” He waved his hands. “I need a career. I mean, I have money saved and I've been picking up work giving firearms safety classes, but it's not gonna work long term. And, before you suggest it, I don't want to be a cop.”

  “Actually, I wasn't going to say that at all. I don't think law enforcement, per se, is right for you.” She gave him a sarcastic grin. “You have trouble staying inside the lines.”

  Understatement of the century. Being a Green Beret meant improvising more times than not. Orders were orders, but in the field, if they needed a Plan B or C or M, they created one. As long as the orders were followed and the mission completed, he didn't worry too much about how they got there.

  “What about this training center of Jonah's or the Georgia thing?”

  “Georgia, I'm still thinking about. Could be good. I don't know if the knee would hold up with that. And the training center is only temporary. Once construction is complete, I'm done.”

  “Why?”

  Reid craned his neck. What the hell was she asking? “Did someone hit you in the head or something? Why, what? I'm supposed to help design and build it. But I’m not going to stick around to run it. I'd suck as a nine-to-fiver.”

  Mags let out a laugh. If he'd asked most women if they'd gotten hit in the head, he'd probably get smacked. Mags? She laughed. She might be part male. Maybe with Reid's suddenly female side and the whole wanting-to-talk thing, he and Mags combined might be the perfect human specimen.

  “What's really bugging you?” she asked.

  “I don't know.”

  “Yeah, you do. You just don't want to admit it. But guess what, cuz? I don't have all day, so I'm going to tell you what your problem is.”

  “Well, hell, Mags, you don't have to get pissy about it.”

  She poked her finger at him. “Your problem is you don't feel like part of a unit anymore. You thrived on that in the military. Now, being back home, you don't think you have a role to play.”

  Reid shifted in his seat and made a halfhearted attempt to shake his head.

  “Don't even try it,” she said. “You know I’m right.”

  “I'm not an admin guy. I'm boots on the ground. All that administrative crap. Paperwork? I'd put a bullet in my head.”

  Even if the idea appealed to him, the other issue, the bigger one, was more complicated. That sucker could tear his family apart.

  He met her eyes, took a second to think about if he wanted to put it out there. If he said it, if he gave it up to the universe, it could happen.

  Mags sat forward, rested her elbows on her desk. “You're worried about Jonah?”

  Thank you. “Hell, yes. We'd kill each other.”

  On any given day, he and Jonah disagreed on random things. If Jonah said it was cold out, Reid would say it was hot. It wasn't that they disliked each other. They were…combative.

  “Well,” Mags said, “I'll give you that one, but as much as you drive each other crazy, I think you can make it work. Just set boundaries in the beginning.”

  The idea had merit, but he'd been wandering, exploring the world, for years. He liked it. The constant change and newness.

  Being confined? Stuck in Steele Ridge? Oof.

  Not so much.

  He looked beyond Maggie's shoulder, out the window to Main Street, where a guy got shot in front of a store belonging to a woman he had an itch for.

  Would Steele Ridge ever be enough?

  He pushed out of his chair. “I'll think on it.”

  “You do that. In the meantime, stay out of my investigation.”

  Stay out of her investigation.

  Good luck with that, cuz. Until the zoning permits for the training center were approved, Reid had been effectively placed in neutral.

  Neutral. For him? Not a good place. Neutral made him antsy.

  Restless.

  And since his cousin hadn't given him any decent dirt on Nelson's case or the robbery at Brynne's store—all in one damned day—he'd go to the place he was sure to find intel.

  The Triple B.

  Gossip capital of Steele Ridge.

  After hoofing back to the B, he pushed through the door of the coffee shop, found Randi pouring coffee.

  “Hiya, Reid.”

  A few people stood in line, patiently waiting for Randi or her employee.

  Forgoing the line—he'd come back when it died down—Reid headed to the doorway that connected the coffee shop to the bar next door.

  The bar didn't start serving until later in the day, but the coffee shop's limited seating had raised a bunch of complaints, so Randi opened the door when they needed additional seating.

  And in there, Reid knew, he'd find what he wanted. The Triple B at ten o'clock was a bona fide jackpot of information.

  There he'd find all the bored, retired folks from town hashing out the latest rumors.

  Case in point, Mr. Greene sitting at the bar, hovering over a bagel. The man had to be 110 by now, but still managed to get out of bed and come into town for a meal every day.

  Reid waved hello to Mr. and Mrs. Trambly, another set of regulars who lived in the Ridge. He'd gone to school w
ith their youngest son, Devin, but they'd lost touch years ago.

  Most of the tables were empty, but Reid wasn't feeling it for a table today. Besides, Mr. Greene, resident chatterbox, was a supremely excellent starting point for digging up dirt.

  He boosted onto the stool one over from Mr. Greene and set his elbows on the bar. Overhead, classic Travis Tritt streamed through the speakers about ten decibels below what it would be twelve hours from now. By then, wall-to-wall bodies and raised voices would destroy the peaceful quiet.

  Randi stepped through the adjoining doorway carrying a carafe and topped off Mr. Greene's coffee. “Reid, you hungry?”

  “Nah. Just coffee. But, who knows, if I sit here long enough, I might need some pie.”

  Who cared if it was still morning? Pie didn't have time constraints.

  “Blueberry today.”

  His favorite. Of course. Might need two slices. Randi grabbed a mug from under the bar and poured his coffee while Reid turned to Mr. Greene.

  “How's it going, Mr. Greene?”

  “I woke up this morning. I can't complain.”

  After the day they'd seen in town yesterday, waking up definitely had its perks.

  “I'd say you're right about that. “

  Mr. Greene took a healthy gulp of his coffee, his mottled hand shaking slightly. “I don't know what's happening in this world where a man ain't safe in his own town.”

  “Oh, Jacob,” Mrs. Trambly said. “Don't be such a pessimist. We have no idea what was going on in that boy's life.”

  Reid swiveled another quarter turn to face Mrs. Trambly. “I thought it was a random shooting. God knows Maggie won't tell me anything.”

  Mrs. T set her fork down and peered at him over her bifocals. “Well, I don't know about all that. All I know is what Estelle told me.”

  Mrs. Trambly looked around, made sure no one was actively listening—in her dreams—and leaned over a little.

  As if that would make a difference? Reid stifled a laugh. These people. Characters. Every one of 'em.

  “Estelle lives two doors down from that boy. She told me the neighbors were all talking about it. And he had a friend that came over the other night and there was some yelling. Well, talking loud.”

  “Does the sheriff know that?”

  Mrs. Trambly shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  Un-huh. Mags was definitely holding out on him.

  Mr. Greene didn't bother turning around. “Don't keep us in suspense, Dolores. Did the neighbors see anything along with this so-called yelling?”

  “I don't know,” she said. “I never got clarification on that.”

  The old man grunted. “Then what good are you? Spreading this gossip when you don't know what's fact or fiction.”

  Ho-kay, folks. What they didn't need was a geriatric smackdown in the middle of the Triple B. Randi would kill him for inciting a riot.

  “Eh,” Reid said. “It's all speculation anyway. I guess we'll know when we know.”

  But that wouldn't keep him from taking a peek inside Nelson's house.

  * * *

  Reid headed to Nelson's and found a two-story farmhouse similar to every other one on the block. This eastern edge of town wasn't known for its wealth. What they had here was a mix of average blue-collar workers or entry-level white collar.

  But the shiny green shutters on Nelson's place had obviously been recently painted and the roof shingles glistened under the late morning sun. All while the shingles on the surrounding homes were scraped bare by the elements.

  New roof and freshly painted shutters.

  Nelson, at the very least, had expendable income for home repairs.

  “Yep, yep, yep,” Reid said to himself. “We're gonna do a sneak and peek.”

  He swung around the corner, crossed the railroad tracks, and pulled into Barron's Park, a local hangout for stay-at-home moms entertaining the kidlets during the day. At night the Ridge's bored teenagers took over and Mags increased patrols because just breathing in that park could get you high. The locals liked to say the Ridge's entertainment choices included getting high, getting drunk, or getting pregnant.

  Reid didn't exactly buy in to all that, but back in the day he liked to bring his girlfriend here to make out. Among other things. Hell, he'd lost his virginity under a giant oak tree.

  Yeah. Good times.

  He grabbed his lock-picking tools from the glove box. A guy like him never knew when he might need to pop a lock. He hopped out of the truck and tromped down the sidewalk.

  At the corner, he veered right and scanned the quiet tree-lined street. Three houses down, a woman walked a German shepherd and—crap—he'd have to avoid suspicion and stay out of her sightline. Circle the block, try to cut through yards to get to Nelson's.

  He shoved his hands in his front pockets and crossed the street. Just a guy out for a stroll.

  Three minutes later, after hoofing halfway down the next block and doubling back through a couple of yards, he scaled Nelson's six-foot privacy fence—thank you very much—and swung over the top.

  The fence gave him great cover for his lock-picking.

  Had to love when a plan came together.

  Especially his plans. Most times, his plans didn't come together. He had that kind of shitty luck. He never stressed over it. Why should he when the challenge of getting out of a jackpot was so much freaking fun?

  He climbed the back porch, noted the wood sagging under his weight. The warped planks reinforced the lack of attention paid to the rear of the house. Old Nelson must have only kept up with the front for appearances.

  The back door was solid wood and flanked by windows on either side. The shade on the right one hadn't been lowered to the frame, so Reid squatted and peeked through. Brynne had mentioned Nelson's parents were in town and considering his typical rotten luck, he didn't intend to break in and…helloooo, 'rents.

  The slit between the window frame and the shade gave him a view of the kitchen on the other side and—whoa—every cabinet had been thrown open, their contents spilled on the counters and floor. An array of glass from broken plates, mugs, and glasses littered the floor.

  Even the drawers were out and all the crap contained within tossed.

  Ah, shit.

  His nothing-goes-my-way streak was intact. Dammit.

  Someone had trumped his sneak and peek.

  7

  “Seriously,” Mags said. “You completely ignored me telling you to stay out of my investigation?”

  Reid leaned against Maggie's cruiser, the morning sun blaring down on him and bringing plenty of heat right along with her torpedo stare.

  Oooh-eee, his cousin was pissed.

  He crossed his arms, propped one foot on top of the other and hoped she'd go easy on him while they waited for Nelson's folks to show up and give consent to enter the house.

  “I didn't ignore you.”

  Not much anyway.

  “And don't say you heard me. I know you heard me, but you didn't listen because you left my office and came straight here.”

  Okay, well, that wasn't altogether true. He had made a stop in between. If he said it, Mags, family or not, would most likely whip out that Glock she carried and send him to his maker.

  “Mags, you're right.”

  She cupped her hand behind her ear. “Excuse me? Repeat that, please.”

  “Hey, smart-ass, give it a rest. I'll admit when I've screwed up. In my defense, I was only looking. A peek in the windows. I saw the mess and figured I should call you. That's all.”

  She waved him off. “I know you. You were going in there. At least you had the good sense to look in the window first. I might have another crime scene here and you'd have trampled it. I swear, I could strangle you. Maybe I'll throw your butt in a cell for pissing me off.”

  In truth, he wouldn't blame her for either. Killing him or locking him up. He hadn't intended to get busted on this mission and a fairly hefty chunk of guilt damn near flattened him.

  “I w
as—”

  She whipped her finger at him. “Shut it. Not a word. You'll make it worse.”

  A white SUV turned onto the street and drove toward them at a speed slow enough that Jonah could beat it in a foot race.

  Mags straightened. “This them?”

  How the hell should he know?

  He didn't answer. When it came to women being mad at him, he'd learned his best course of action was to keep his trap shut. Right now, she was steamed enough that anything he said would start a war.

  The white SUV stopped in front of the house. An older man sat behind the wheel and next to him was a woman—blonde—about the same age.

  Had to be Nelson's parents.

  Mags looked over at him. “Stay here.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “And be quiet. I'm serious. Don't make me arrest you.”

  Yeesh. Way to get dramatic on a guy. He held up his hands. “I'll stay here and be a good little boy.”

  “Ha!”

  Half an hour later, Reid was still leaning on Maggie's cruiser when she exited the house with Nelson's parents. He straightened up, dropped his hands to his side, and nodded.

  Mags stopped a couple of feet from him. “Mr. and Mrs. Marsh, this is Reid Steele. He's a friend of Brynne's. Not to mention Steele Ridge is named after his family. He's recently retired from the military and after the incident with Nelson, he stopped by the house to check it. He alerted me to the break-in.”

  She shot him a look. Hey, if that's what she was going with, he'd play along because she was basically saving his ass from a trespassing charge.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Marsh said in a voice tight with emotion. “You kept us from walking into that mess uninformed.”

  A little extra guilt took residence in Reid's chest because, well, his intentions hadn't been pure in this whole deal. He wanted a look around. A look that would hopefully give him intel on what, if anything, their son might be into.

  But the Marshes didn't need to know that.

  “Did you see anyone inside?” Mrs. Marsh asked.