“I just remembered something. She texted me earlier, saying she was going to be late because she had to drive her boyfriend to work. His bike broke down.” Lucas looks between Gary and me, a perplexing look on his face.
“Wait, who’s Sherry’s guy?” Gary asks, his brow furrowed with confusion. “I thought she was hooking up with that accountant dude.”
“Dante Brunswick,” Lucas says. “Owns a Harley Davidson. Affiliated with the Silver Stallions.” He shows me photos from Sherry’s social media profile. “Turns out they’ve been together for quite a while.”
“I’ll send his name over to the office,” Gary adds. “He might have a criminal record. What the hell is that girl thinking?”
“Wait, so Sherry drove her boyfriend to work this morning because his motorcycle broke down,” I calmly reiterate, though a storm rages inside me.
“Hold on,” Lucas pauses and texts Sherry. “Let me ask about the bike before we make any assumptions here. What kind of trouble he had with it.”
While Lucas does that, I text Tyler about Dante and his possible involvement. I get the message read note, but he doesn’t respond.
Lucas, on the other hand, exhales sharply as he gets Sherry’s immediate response. “It was leaking oil. Shit.”
“You know what this means, right?” I reply, shaken to the core.
“Nothing,” he states firmly. “We can’t jump to any conclusions yet. We need to cast a wider net first. We don’t know if he’s the only one with a faulty bike. There could be multiple members in the gang that have bikes leaking oil. It’s not that uncommon.”
“This has Trevor Callaghan and the Silver Stallions written all over it,” I snap and walk out of the kitchen, no longer able to bear the sight of it.
Lucas follows me into the hallway. “Tassia, hold on.”
“Timothy was going to reach out to Trevor’s PO. He was determined to get him out of town, one way or another. He was angling for a parole violation. If a Silver Stallion killed Tim just days after I spoke to him about it…”
He thinks about it for a moment, and deep down, I know we’re on the same page. “I’m just trying to do this by the book. I don’t want to give anyone reason to challenge any arrest we make from this point forward.”
“I think we’re past the point of doing things by the book. That’s Tim’s blood in there,” I point back at the kitchen, tearing up.
“I get it and you’re right,” he sighs deeply and gently squeezes my shoulder.
For a brief moment, I want to tell him about the pregnancy, but I’m scared. I’m in love with him, with Tyler, and with Mitch. I dream of a life together with all three of them, but we’re tripping over way too many obstacles right now.
“Time for some drastic measures,” Lucas says.
Finally—a line he’s willing to cross.
19
TYLER
Ican’t even imagine the pain in Tassia’s heart. Losing Timothy must feel like losing a piece of herself. Frost Valley has lost a valuable community member. It triggers a dark response in my core—a lust for vengeance, not justice.
Tassia is with me when I interrogate Sherry at the station, while Lucas and Mitch head over to the coroner’s office to go over their preliminary findings regarding Timothy’s body. The drive is quiet, yet I catch glimpses of Tassia’s lower lip quivering. She’s trying so hard to keep it together.
“Where is she?” I ask Deputy Hargreaves as soon as we walk in.
“We put her in the interview room, like you asked,” he replies, a frown darkening his features. “What did she do, Ty?”
“Not sure yet,” I say. “Thanks. Make sure we’re not interrupted.”
He nods and positions himself next to the interview room’s door. Tassia lingers behind me, so I turn around to look at her. She looks fragile beneath a stern glare, broken beneath a stoic demeanor. I couldn’t love this woman more.
“You can stay out here,” I suggest. “It might be better.”
“No. If Sherry had anything to do with this, I want to hear her say it,” Tassia firmly replies, drawing a deep breath. We step inside.
Quietly, she closes the door while I shift my focus to Sherry, looking rather pathetic seated at the large table. The overhead light dulls the bright colors of her overdone makeup. She looks scared—and guilty.