Page 39 of By the Book

“What food vendors will we have?” Vanessa asks.

“Your coffee station, hopefully?” Fitzy replies.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful, and then we have the kettle corn, the caramel apples, and Sam has already offered his wood fired pizza truck again.”

“Can we have bonfires set up with s’mores stations?” Vanessa asks.

“I love that idea,” Wren chimes in.

“What happens when the festival gets attacked?” someone calls from behind me. A murmur rises throughout the crowd. That didn’t take long.

“We can save these questions for after Sheriff Forester speaks,” our mayor replies.

“Why would we waste time planning activities just to have them not happen?” another voice counters.

Fitzy sighs and looks over at Tripp. A silent conversation seems to pass between them before he pushes off the wall and strolls casually up to the podium, as if without a care in the world. But I know better, I can see it in his eyes, he does care.

Before stepping off to the side, Fitzy clasps him on the back with a reassuring nod. Up in position, Tripp leans forward on the podium and sighs. “I won’t say much about an ongoing investigation. What I will say is that promising leads are being pursued at this time and business owners should operate as usual, just use awareness. Get security cameras, better lighting, whatever will make your establishment less appealing to target.”

“And are we still having the fall festival?”

“At this time, the festival will continue as planned. Patrol has been increased; we will concentrate it during the days of the event.”

“Why haven’t you caught him?” a sharp voice sounds. I spin to find who it was, anger flooding me. Jackson sneers up at Tripp from his place in the crowd.

I turn back to the front quickly, my eyes wide. Gosh, I’m being so obvious right now. But I don’t care. Because Tripp is watching me with that familiar spark of amusement again. I just know he’s holding onto a Sherlock comment right now, and I love it, having this secret with him.

“I’m only answering pertinent questions,” he replies calmly. “Any others?”

Silence falls over the room save for a stray cough and the creak of people shifting in their chairs. A voice slowly raises from the crowd. Mrs. Silberman.

“Sheriff Forester? Is this something we should worry about reaching outside of businesses? Are our homes safe?”

“There are no concerns for anyone’s personal wellbeing. Nor are your residences in danger. This is business motivated. However, let me make this clear, everyone shouldalwaysremain aware of their surroundings, be cautious. Lock your doors, don’t do the criminals any favors.”

“We never had to worry about keeping our doors locked with Winston as sheriff,” someone grumbles.

Tripp turns to Fitzy and nods, acting as if he didn’t hear the jab. “Plan your event,” he instructs.

Murmurs rise from the crowd once again as he makes his way back over to his deputies, and I catch a comment that rises above the others. “He wasn’t ready to be named sheriff, he’s too young to handle things.”

Flushing with anger, I turn to see who said it. Everyone seems to be sharing an opinion, as if they actually understand what’s going on with this investigation.

“How could they actually be saying these things?” I ask Hayden.

“Half of them are busybodies, and the rest are assholes,” he murmurs back.

He’s right, nothing they say should matter. And then another comment is nearly shouted above the crowd. “We should recall him as sheriff!”

That’s it for me, I hate this. And don’t want to be amongst these people any longer. Rising from my seat, I slip past Hayden and move across the back of the room. Before ducking out the door, I look up to find Tripp watching me, intense curiosity in those warm brown eyes.

Never taking his sights off me, he gives Millie a nudge and motions in my direction. Something passes between them and then she abandons her post, following me out the door.

We move wordlessly, Millie taking her time to catch up. I’m down the annex hallway and pushing open the doors into the chilly autumn evening by the time she reaches my side.

As the fresh air hits me, I inhale deeply and sit down on the town hall steps. There’s a faint strip of orange across the horizon and the fading light is eerily beautiful, stretching out over the temporary pumpkin patch in our town square. Along the sidewalks that surround the green, lamp posts are illuminated for the night. Despite everything that has happened lately, when I take in Foxport, I only see it as cozy.

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