Page 22 of Noble Neighbor
It was unlike the man to be evasive. “Well, spit it out.”
“It’s …” Beau settled against the railing. “It’s about your new neighbor.”
“Sunny?”
“Got any other new neighbors?”
“Beau. Don’t beat about the bush.”
“There’s something amiss with her, Oliver,” Beau declared.
“Why would you say that? She’s a widow making a new start for her and her kids. I can understand that.”
“She ever mention being a widow?”
Tilting his head to one side, Oliver gave the question some consideration. “No.” He frowned. “Why?”
Beau scraped his throat. “I ran a report on her.”
Oliver blinked and shot up. He took a very deep breath and spent a moment tamping down the sudden fury welling up inside of him. “That’s overstepping, Sheriff,” he bit out between clenched teeth.
“Maybe.” The man shrugged. “But—”
“No buts.” Oliver walked up to Beau. “Has she broken a law?”
Beau sighed. “She hasn’t.”
“Then what gave you the right to run her through the system? It borders on stalking.”
“There’s just something about—”
Oliver shoved his face closer. “Stay away from Sunny Jones, Sheriff.”
“See?” Beau shook his head. “That’s exactly why. You’re my friend, Oliver, and you’re falling for her. My sister is becoming fast friends with her. That woman is worming her way into our community, but something isoffwith her. I’m trying to look out for you. And Clement. This town. If she’s trouble or in trouble, it can spill over, affect us all.”
At the mention of his son, Oliver deflated. He swung away from Beau and stared across the fields. Newly painted, the house gleamed, dressed in chaste white and elegant grey trim. He’d seen enough, experienced enough in his life to understand evil came in all sorts of packaging.
Even curvy, brown-haired, blue-eyed ones. He didn’t want to imagine her culpable of wrongdoing for a single moment, but whatdidhe know about the woman? Not a lot besides the uncomfortable fact he craved her.
“What did you discover?”
“Nothing.”
He shot Beau a side-eye. “So, what’s your problem?”
“Sunny Jones, that” — he inclined his head toward the old Douglas place — “Sunny Jones, only came into existence eight months ago.”
“Explain,” Oliver bit out, teeth clenched, gut churning. He was cop enough to know he would not like what came next and put some distance between himself and the man he considered a friend.
“I did all the standard searches. Found nothing. Shehas no employment or credit history, no criminal record or citations,not even a parking or speeding ticket, and no social media presence. The earliest trace I can find of her is January this year in Bangor, Maine, when she applied for her driver’s license.
“In that same month, she opened a bank account — the first in her name — with averyhealthy balance. She bought her vehicle and paid cash. She signed for a six-month lease on a furnished two-bedroom apartment, paid up front and in full,with cash, and lived there till the end of June. Her first credit card transaction was around the same time, and her cellphone was activated in January, of which the call history fills one page.Allthose calls relate to her move here or were made since her arrival.
“Her Social Security number is valid, her birth certificate says she was born in Queens, New York. As were her daughters, so one would assume she lived in the area. Yet I find nothing to substantiate that. There’s no record of herevermarrying, and her daughters’ father is listed as unknown on their birth certificates. She has no mortgage on her property. We might not be prime location, but that piece of land did not come cheap.”
Beau sucked in a breath. “Sunny Jones popped out of nowhere and planted her ass in my town. I don’t like any of what I found, and I most certainly do not like what I didnotfind.”
A weighty silence followed Beau’s spiel. Oliver kept his gaze fixed on Sunny’s home, fighting the questions, the doubt, the crushing disappointment that threatened to overwhelm him.
