Page 1 of Barbed Wire and Burglary
Chapter 1: Not-So-Accidental Encounter
A.J. Pike watched the barista dispense steaming black coffee into his cardboard to-go cup. A less observant guy might not have noticed the puffy skin beneath her eyes that she’d expertly covered with makeup. Or the ever-so-faint line circling her empty wedding ring finger. Or the too-bright quality of her smile as she spun his way, capping the cup and leaning out the window of the food truck to hand it to him.
“Here you go, sir.” She was somewhere between fifty-five and sixty, though her salt-and-pepper ponytail and high-pitched voice made her appear younger.
“Thank you, ma’am.” A.J. inclined his head respectfully as he accepted the cup from her. His gut told him she’d suffered a recent loss. He recognized the signs, because grief was something he was all too familiar with. He was guessing she was either newly divorced or newly widowed. Not that it was any of his business.
He hadn’t traveled to Heart Lake to make friends. He’d arrived in search of justice. Noticing the details ofeverything happening around him was simply second nature to him.
Pivoting away from the food truck, he nearly plowed into the person standing behind him. He had to do a rapid sidestep to get past the guy. Despite his efforts, their shoulders brushed.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, not actually feeling one bit sorry. The rugged cowboy had been standing too close.
“I’m not.” The amusement in the man’s voice made A.J.’s steps slow. “You’re exactly who I was hoping to run into.” He used a gloved finger to raise the brim of his hat, which had previously shaded his eyes from view.
A.J. was caught off guard since he’d come to town to observe, not to be observed. But he quickly recovered, taking a closer look at the guy to see if he recognized him. He didn’t.
“Have we met, sir?” Though his gut wasn’t raising an alarm, every cell in his body went on full alert.
“No, we haven’t, but I’m about to correct that.” The broad-shouldered fellow held out a gloved hand, ducking his head a little to keep the January breeze from lifting his brown leather Stetson higher. “Decker Kingston, town councilman.”
Ah.A.J. knew exactly who he was. According to his research, serving as a member of the Heart Lake Council barely scratched the surface of what Decker did for a living. Or his equally successful wife. They also owned and operated two of the most profitable businesses in town.
A.J. had actually been hoping to secure an introduction to the Kingstons, though he’d done nothing yet to land himself on their radar. He’d only arrived in the cozy lake town a week ago. As usual, he’d been keeping alow profile.
“Nice to meet you.” He kept his voice neutral as they shook hands. “I’m A.J. Pike. Military policeman. Retired.” Twenty years of service in the United States Army had ingrained in him impeccable manners and an unerring respect for protocol. “Nowadays, I mostly tinker with cars.”
Out of sheer habit, he downplayed his background in law enforcement with the more innocuous sounding part-time job he’d picked up at an auto body shop down the street. Ultra part-time. He was working only one shift per week. Plus, he’d agreed to pinch hit for the other two mechanics on sick days and such.
“Mechanic work?” Decker Kingston’s golden-brown gaze swept over him curiously. “Sounds anticlimactic after the rush of being in uniform.”
“It’s peaceful.” A.J.’s listener seemed to be trying to get a rise out of him, but he didn’t take the bait. Unfortunately, peace wasn’t something he’d enjoyed much of during his short tenure as a military retiree. Nope. Word of his illustrious service in the Army had quickly spread to the civilian sector, where he was constantly being wrangled into contract work as a private investigator.
He handpicked his cases and insisted on being paid top-dollar, but he still had more work than he wanted. His current client, the Jewelers Security Alliance, was his biggest one yet. It was a hush-hush assignment they didn’t want the press anywhere near—to identify the key players in a serial jewel theft ring plaguing their members from coast to coast. They were afraid someone internal might be helping the thieves, possibly a member firm, possibly someone within the ranks of their own leadership.
A.J. had already chased down a few viable leads, which had led to a few arrests. But tracking down who was behind the uptick in jewelry store burglaries had turned out to belike playing Whack a Mole. Every time A.J. helped put a jewel thief behind bars, another one popped out of the woodwork to take his place.
He was afraid he knew why. If his theory was correct, the uptick in burglaries was part of a single, overriding, well-coordinated criminal operation. He had reason to suspect their tentacles spread all the way to the law enforcement community—to one dirty deputy in particular, who’d recently relocated from the Pinetop Police Department in Arizona to the Heart Lake Police Department in Texas.
It was the most logical explanation for the additional income flowing into the deputy’s bank account—income far greater than his police officer’s salary. It was only a matter of time before A.J. could prove it. Once he was locked onto a target, he always got his man.
“I reckonpeacefulis one way of putting it, soldier.” Decker Kingston waggled his eyebrows playfully. He was younger than A.J. had originally estimated now that he could see the guy’s face more fully, a good decade younger than A.J.’s own thirty-nine years. Though Decker didn’t have a background in the military, the sides of his blonde hair were cut nearly as short as A.J.’s, and the two men were roughly the same height.
Some guys would’ve hated barely stretching to five feet ten inches, but not A.J. His average build suited him just fine. When there was nothing overly remarkable about a person’s appearance, they might as well be invisible for all the attention other folks paid them.
Usually.
But not this morning.
Over the councilman’s shoulder, A.J. watched the same middle-aged woman with the same moderately red-rimmed eyes extend another cardboard cup of coffee their way. “Here you go, Deck.”
He held up a finger at A.J., silently asking him to wait as he faced the woman and claimed his order. “You doing alright today, Betsy?”
The papery lines at the edge of her mouth tightened. “As good as can be expected.” Her voice grew thready. “Staying busy helps.”
Though Decker had his coffee in hand, he lingered at the window of the food truck. “Chanel and I are here for you. The whole town is.”
She nodded, eyes misting over. “I know, hon. I know.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Thank you.” Her gaze flitted to the next customer in line.
