Lib Novel Page 30
And all of those things were true. The thought of navigating a new relationship, trying to integrate another person into my life—and Owen’s—was too daunting.
Yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about those green eyes. That dazzling smile. The way all that long blond hair would look fanned out over my pillow.
“Haven.” Kade’s voice broke me out of my stupor.
“Hey, Sheehan.”
He took a bite of a large cookie. “Just a heads up. Trent Jones is back on the streets. He made bail.”
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Yeah, he’s a fun one. So I hear Sarge let you take the Joyner case.”
My brow furrowed. “I talked to him this morning. How do you know about it already?”
He shrugged. “Word gets around. You really have time to dig into a cold case?”
“In between everything else, I guess. I just want to see if there’s something we missed back then. You didn’t work the case at all, did you?”
“Nah. I was too green, just like you.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“You’re a brave man, Haven.”
I glanced up at him. “Why?”
“That case is basically cursed. I wouldn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.”
“Cursed? I didn’t think you were the superstitious type.”
“I am when it comes to unsolvable cold cases that are going to make the town gossip line go nuts. I wouldn’t want to be the object of that kind of scrutiny.”
“The case is over a decade old. I’m sure the gossip line won’t pick it up.”
“Don’t be so sure. I bet half the town knows already.”
“We’re already getting calls,” Brenna said as she walked by. She was my favorite dispatcher when I was on patrol.
“Calls about the Joyner case?” I asked.
“Yep. Did we catch the killer? Is the killer still out there? Are the trails safe? You’d think it just happened.”
“How the hell does anyone know I’m looking into it? I just started reviewing the case files.”
Brenna shrugged and glanced at Kade, who shrugged back.
It wasn’t confidential or anything. But it annoyed me that it was already town gossip. Freaking Tilikum.
“Did you try one of these?” Kade held up the remnant of his cookie. “They’re amazing.”
I shook my head. It didn’t make rational sense, but I was worried that if I ate one of Harper’s cookies, I’d black out and wind up at Angel Cakes Bakery, staring at her like a kid ogling cotton candy at the summer Mountain Man Festival.
“Your loss.” He walked away.
At least he’d left the sarcasm at home.
Ignoring the temptation of baked goods—and Harper Tilburn—I went back to reviewing the Joyner case. There was so much information to sift through. Interviews with family and friends, the hundreds of tips that had come in, the medical examiner’s findings, the evidence—or lack thereof—at the scene.