Page 24 of By the Book

“At twenty-one hundred hours yesterday, a business in the Brick District of Foxport, The Open Book, was broken into. There was clear and present intent to commit a crime, the first being done to obtain unlawful entry. At that time, there was criminal destruction of property within the premise.”

I clear my throat again, hating the next words I must say. “On this occasion, the owner of the establishment was present. It’s our belief that the perpetrator is wholly unaware of this. And we will be ensuring that remains the case. This detail does not leave this room.”

Pausing, I take in the glances exchanged. Chuck in particular looks pale as a ghost. He’s been neighbors with Ivy’s parents for years, it makes sense that he would be disturbed by this detail.

“That being said, she did not see the perpetrator. However, she did hear his voice and can confirm that we are looking for an adult male. Furthermore, there were two objects left at the scene, separating this from past incidents.”

I nod to Millie who passes around the evidence bag with the note inside. The next item, however, has not yet made its way to Millie for cataloging. I’m hoping to get it from Ivy tomorrow.

“The second object left behind, it is presumed, was not left purposefully. It was a set of keys.” A murmur passes through my team. “These keys do not belong to the establishment or the owner. It is believed that he was interrupted by the arrival of our deputy and fled impulsively. Again, these details will remain in this room. We will be increasing our patrol radius to the whole town of Foxport and surrounding part of the county. At this time, it is believed that the focus will remain on the singular town. That is all, thank you.”

I walk back to my office, ignoring Chuck’s questions on my way. He can read Millie’s report like the rest of them.

Taking my seat, I expect Millie to be just a few steps behind me. So, I don’t need to look up from an email when my office door closes.

“Mill.”

“There were keys?” she asks.

I steal a glance at her. “Ivy found them. She has them at her apartment. And here’s the kicker… there’s a keychain from Wes’s welcome home party last week.”

“No fucking way. Talk about burying the lead, boss!” She sits forward and plants her hands on my desk, eyes wide.

“I’ll get the guest list from her tomorrow, too. And we’ll go from there. Sorry you and Nessa just missed each other with your shifts today.”

“That’s the job,” she replies with a forced shrug. “But thanks.” Rising, Millie hesitates before exiting the room. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s a pretty big deal that Ivy called you specifically, instead of dispatch.”

“How so?”

“Think about it, are most people working through a logical thought process in a crisis? No. People react to their emotions. If their brain wants a loved one to be aware of what is happening, they text a spouse, a partner. Maybe their best friend. And they call 911.”

“I mean, I am the sheriff,” I counter.

“But what person thinks of their adult sibling and then his friend and then that guy’s job? No, she thought of the person that makes her feel safe. It was an emotional reaction.” A grin turns up the corner of her mouth. “Kind of like your reaction arriving on scene.”

“I—”

“It’s a good thing, Tripp,” Millie says softly. “But I won’t tell anyone what I saw when you got there.”

“Just checked on her, there wasn’t anything to see.” My voice is hoarse, remembering how close I was to kissing her the second she was in my arms.

Sinking down in my chair, I intertwine my fingers behind my head and sigh. It should be a good thing, shouldn’t it? To care so infinitely for another person. But that doesn’t make it an easy thing.

Chapter 11

Ivy

Exhaustion weighs heavy on me after a sleepless night. I tossed and turned, imagining all the faces I had seen at Wes’s welcome home party. Flashes of people, like a heartbreaking highlight reel. I knew them, and had grown up to see them as the community I loved. And one of them had hurt me, deeply and with malice. To what end?

My bare feet patter across the kitchen floor, my pumpkin adorned pajama pants getting caught under my heel every so often. I reach my coffee maker and toss a scoop of grounds in before sliding thesweater weathermug beneath and pressing start. It’s not long before my apartment is filled with the blissful aroma of a freshly brewed cup.

Tripp had texted me earlier, setting a time to meet today, and sending flutters of anticipation through me in an instant. I was getting dangerously comfortable interacting with him daily like this.

But first I had to get the guest list. I lean my elbows on the kitchen counter and call my mother.

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