The email brief he’d read this morning detailed chatter about another drug shipment heading this way. It would likely come through the docks, but there were plenty of vendors descending on the town, as well. In short, the suspect pool was growing instead of shrinking. The situation was overwhelming for a department as small as Abby’s.
“I can do it,” Abby said.
“That’s obvious,” Riley agreed, “but we can all use a little help sometimes.” She frowned at him so he barreled on with a subject change. “Looks like you’re dressed for another press conference. I’ll get the lock fixed while you deal with whatever is already on your schedule.”
Her frown deepened to a scowl. “What do you know about how I dress?”
“YouTube is everywhere,” he said, shooting her a grin. “I keep up with local events. And I heard the ads that artist guy in town put out this morning.”
“Deke Maynard?” Her frustration turned to confusion. “What about him?”
“That’s the one.” He held out his hand. “You’ll back up his good publicity with another statement, right?”
She nodded. “Sure. Of course.”
“Thought so. Since you have your hands full keeping the peace and chasing the bad guys, give me the lock.” When she dropped it into his hand he barely stifled a cheer. “Now, what happened to your snow shovel?”
“We bagged it and sent it to the lab. I don’t know that there’s anything to officially report as of yet.” She shrugged. “For that matter, the material on the blade may not have been blood, but I’ll feel better when I’ve confirmed one way or the other. I’m optimistic since we haven’t heard about any victims lying around.”
“Give it time,” Peg muttered under her breath as she headed back toward the sales counter. “Will that be cash or charge?”
“Cash,” Abby said, following her. “Thanks for your help, Peg.”
“Anytime.” The older woman’s demeanor had softened a bit more.
“You’re sure you have time for this, Riley?” Abby asked him.
He nodded, hearing the distinct groan of the brakes on the truck he was expecting from the warehouse. “I’ll take care of it as soon as I get home.”
“The department is running an extra patrol around our street,” Abby warned. “Be prepared to let them know you’re helping me out.”
“Sure thing.”
She paid for her purchases, but he carried them out to his truck after she left. Knowing she hadn’t assaulted anyone, he wondered who wanted her out of the way so badly they’d resort to planting evidence in her garage. And why hadn’t she wanted to file an official report about it?
The bigger question remained: What else could he do to stay close enough to protect her?
Chapter Eight
Frustrated after her security meeting with the Christmas Village vendors, Abby drove home, the hard-rock music pumped as high as she dared. Just as she’d been walking out of her office, the crime lab had called. They identified the tissue on the blade of her snow shovel as human, but it was too early to have any results back on DNA that might match up with evidence in the various databases. The relevant concern was the traces of spray paint in the hair fibers.
She’d vowed to keep this town safe no matter the cost. It wouldn’t take much media speculation to convince people she’d taken justice into her own hands. She would never kill someone over graffiti, but just the rumor of it could ruin her career. There was no way to keep the incident off the record now. In fact, her hasty decision could work against her.
God, she was tired.
Gadsden had taken her report, but they both knew being at home in bed alone wasn’t enough of an alibi even for a police chief. She’d earned a bit of sympathy and leeway because of the threats raining down on her head, but at some point last night or early this morning, someone with evil intent had been close enough to break in and plant evidence on her snow shovel. Damn it, this was exactly why she needed a dog. But what dog wanted a home with a human who was rarely there?
Her emotions had run the gamut from shock to vengeance as she’d waded through the rest of her crappy day. Someone was screwing with her and she vowed to get to the bottom of it.
Her press conference had gone well, thanks to the unexpected personal appearance of their resident celebrity. Deke hadn’t said anything, but he certainly was going out of his way to help her weather the storm. She appreciated that, but siding with her so publicly put him right in the line of fire. As much as she appreciated his support, she worried he would regret giving it. On some level, she understood this was his way of showing he cared. She suspected he didn’t do that often. Whether that made her special or not, she wasn’t clear on just yet. Her and Deke’s relationship—friendship, whatever it was—was complicated.