Page 89 of All the Missing Pieces

RIDLEY

I feltthe undersheriff’s gaze sweep over me as we stood in observation. It wasn’t judgmental exactly; it was more curious, assessing. Sophie Ryan had met me in reception with a blank mask I knew she had to have learned from Colt.

When he had told meRyanwould meet me, I hadn’t expected a woman. And certainly not one only a year or two older than me. She wore no makeup, and her hair was pulled back in a bun at the base of her neck. I understood the play. She was trying to be one of the guys as much as possible, so nothing that would accentuate her femaleness.

But there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about those gorgeous green eyes. Or her beauty in general. But I also knew that if she was Colt’s second-in-command, she had to be a damned good officer too.

That was why I let her look now. Didn’t try to hide my fixation on the one-way mirror in front of me as I waited for Colt to bring Kerr in. There were a few officers behind us, their voices melding together in a low din. But I didn’t join in.

I wasn’t new to law enforcement stations. I knew the deal. The more silent I was, the more I’d learn. So I stayed still and listened.

Two of the guys were arguing about the coach. One saying he always knew the dude was a creep. The other eyeing me and saying it was ridiculous that they were bringing a guy in just because he wasn’t wearing a coat.

“This goes much further, and Colt is going to have to step down.”

The words were low, but the fact that they’d been said at all had me turning to the woman next to me.

Ryan met my gaze with more of that assessing stare, and I knew she’d gotten what she’d wanted: a true reaction out of me. “You care about him,” she surmised.

It wasn’t a question, but I still shifted under the weight of it. “He deserves to help find who’s responsible. It’ll help him finally heal.”

Ryan was quiet for a long moment, mulling that over. “Is that why you do what you do? To help yourself heal?”

Annoyance flickered through me before I could fight it back. I wasn’t thrilled that Colt had been spreading my business around, but I understood the need for it at the same time.

Ryan shook her head, reading that annoyance. “Colt didn’t say a word. I looked into you on my own. And Trey might’ve pointed me in the right direction, didn’t want me getting the wrong idea about you.”

My jaw went the slightest bit slack.

She chuckled. “Come on. You’ve got my sheriff jumping through hoops, my town in a tizzy, and then you up and almost get yourself killed. I was curious.”

I hated the waymy sheriffground at me. The way it had me wondering if there’d ever been anything more than professionalism between her and Colt.Jealousy, I realized. It wasn’t an emotion I was all that familiar with.

I’d felt it occasionally growing up. How could I not when my sister was the star of everything she took on while I flitted fromone thing to the next, never landing long enough to take hold? But never in a relationship. Not that I'd had any since Jared and I ended things that fiery night.

He’d tried to be there for me afterward. To mend the fissure between us. But I was too numb to even realize he was there.

After that there’d only been the occasional partner. A friend who’d become more for a time. A couple one-nighters. But mostly I was on my own. No chance for jealousy to rear its ugly head like it was doing now.

“So,” Ryan prodded. “Is that why?”

I turned back to the woman next to me and decided to let her see. To give her the truth. “I won’t know peace until my sister does, but at least I can help others find it in the meantime.”

“Should’ve been a cop,” Ryan muttered.

That had my interest piquing—Ryan had a story. I just wondered what it was.

Before I could ask a single question, the door to interrogation opened, and two men stepped inside. Colt’s back was to the mirror, but I could see the lines of strain along his shoulders and up his neck. The way the muscles had so tightly corded, it looked like they could snap and fray with just a tap of a finger.

“Are we rolling?” Ryan snapped.

“Yeah, boss,” one of the guys behind me said quickly.

“Good. Then shut the hell up.”

Another of them snickered, but it quickly cut off with the sound of an elbow to the gut.

I ignored it all, my gaze locked on the image in front of me, trying to see Coach Kerr through fresh eyes—the gray in his dark hair and deeper lines around his eyes and mouth. I’d pinned them as smile lines, evidence of someone who made the action frequently. But just because someone smiled, that didn’t mean they couldn’t also be a monster.

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