Page 19 of Home Town Knight

I saw her offended expression from the corner of my eye. “You really think I’m no better than some tabloid vulture, huh? I don’t publish private information for the hell of it, and I tell the truth in my reporting. No matter what you seem to think. At most, I’d have to say that you’re a damn good kisser. I have no idea how your other bedroom skills measure up because we didn’t get that far.”

“Nor will we ever,” I finished for her.

“That’s for sure. New rule. Aside from this interview, let’s never discuss what happened between us last night again.”

“Good by me. I wish I could forget the entire thing happened.”

“Same.”

But her words knocked around in my head over the next few miles. Finally I said, “You’re a pretty great kisser too.”

“I thought we weren’t discussing it.”

“I’m done.”

Except you also have a spectacular rack, I added in my head. That wasn’t the kind of thing I’d usually say to a woman, especially one who hated me, but I was tempted.

It was like there was this button in the middle of my chest labeled,Make Owen Act Up. And she had her pink-tipped fingernail right on it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Owen

I closedthe blinds that usually offered a view from my office into the rest of the station. “Have a seat.” I pointed at the chair opposite my desk, settling into my own.

Genevieve scowled at it. Same thing she’d been doing since we’d arrived at my department headquarters on a side spur off of Hartley’s Main Street.

I’d already stopped in the locker room to shower off and change into uniform. My department-issued gear had restored, at least outwardly, some of the barrier between us. I’d also grabbed more coffee and some food from the break room, while Keira had briefed me on what she’d learned about the victim so far. Meanwhile, Gen had sat down with the sketch artist to create a composite of the killer. I’d also made sure she had a bite to eat.

Now it was time for her interview.

“You don’t have a victim/witness interview room?” she asked.

“No. We don’t have a fancy coffee machine either.” We were on my home turf now, more than any other place. I’d grown up in Hartley, but I’d never had anything that was trulyminein this county until wearing this badge. “Mydeputies have the murder victim’s friends hanging out in the regular interview rooms and the hallway, so we’re a little overbooked. Sit down.”

Instead of following my command, Gen glanced around my space.

My tidy desk, not a stray paper in sight. Tall filing cabinets against the walls. My display of challenge coins given to me by my department and others we worked with. A few carefully chosen photos on my bookcase. Genevieve stopped and studied each one, and even though I didn’t love the examination, I allowed her to look. Some were of me and my Marine buddies. Others of me and my mom and dad. I’d been much younger in those.

“You really do wear that cowboy hat a lot.”

“Can we get this started? I thought you were anxious to be done.”

“Just curious to finally get a glimpse of the mysterious Hartley sheriff. Since you keep your personal life so secret online. You don’t even have any photos on the official department website.”

Everybody around here knew me. Unlike others, I didn’t have aspirations to higher office elsewhere in the state. Hartley was my home, and many simply called me the Hartley sheriff, but I cared about everything that happened in every corner of Hart County. Regardless of what any naysayers might think of me.

I’d heard more times than I could count that I was too young for this job. I had many happy citizens who supported me, but the detractors tended to be louder. Especially when some of them were my family. My mom’s side, to be specific.

“Doesn’t seem relevant what I look like,” I said.

She turned, her light brown eyes sweeping over me. “Guess not.” She plopped into the chair and crossed her legs. “Let’s do this.”

I switched on my body cam and said a few preliminary comments for the recording. Then I launched into the interview.

“Ms. Blake, did you stop at the Alpine Hotel yesterday?”

She spoke in a monotone, recounting how she’d left Denver yesterday morning and spent all day driving through the storm. How she’d had a reservation at Last Refuge Inn, but decided to stop at the Alpine given the road conditions.

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