As a police officer, and now as a chief, nothing felt worse than knowing the community questioned their general safety. Sure, life involved some measure of risk, but when people doubted the ability of their law enforcement, things had a tendency to spiral out of control.
“Want to talk about it?”
She looked across the seat to her new neighbor who’d made himself her chauffeur for the evening. “I’d rather not.”
“If that changes, you know where to find me.”
Did she ever. Last night had been bad enough with images of him following her into sleep and all through her dreams. Had she ever been so infatuated? Not as an adult.
Waking with Riley O’Brien on her mind had been a delicious start to the day. She could tell from the way her pulse skipped and danced when she saw him that the situation wasn’t likely to resolve anytime soon. Not without some sort of acknowledgment or action. But this was the worst time to entertain the idea of a new relationship or even friends with benefits.
When he pulled into the driveway, Abby tried to summon the strength to get out of the car. She wanted a shower first to get the smoke out of her hair, then a long soak in a bubble bath. She might leave her coat on the rail outside the kitchen door so it could air out. Mr. Filmore had attacked her police station. Specifically her office. She didn’t need spray paint and graffiti to understand the significance and potential deadly consequences.
At least he’d failed on that count, she thought as another wave of relief washed over her. No one had been injured. That was one positive point in this mess.
But something had pushed Filmore to act against what he held most dear and set fire to a piece of history. Hopefully, the interrogation and search would provide a solid direction. Her gut said Filmore was simply a cog in a wheel, but if that was true, who was calling the shots? Who had the leverage to push Filmore over the edge?
It seemed impossible that she was considering people she had known for years.
What she needed was a better lead, but neither the evidence nor her instincts were cooperating at the moment.
“Hey.” Riley snagged her attention with a soft tap on her shoulder. “Are you the fake or real type?”
With all that had happened, somehow the question grated on her last nerve. She glared at him. “What kind of question is that?”
He leaned back, lifting his hand from her shoulder. “Ease up, Abby. I was referring to Christmas trees.”
“Oh!” She wanted to laugh and shake free of the constant edginess plaguing her, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “I have a fake one in the attic that I’ll pull down when I get a chance. The idea of wandering through a Christmas tree lot...” Her voice trailed off.
“You’ve received threats about shopping for Christmas trees?”
She reached for the door handle, immediately regretting the careless words. Overtired, she wouldn’t be any good to anyone. Based on the muttering, Riley was offended by the idea of that kind of threat. “Not exactly.” She shouldn’t tell him anything and yet she suddenly wanted to talk about all of it. She wanted to unburden herself, even if he was basically a stranger.
Maybe because he was a stranger. He wouldn’t have any preconceived notions about what should and shouldn’t bother her.
There had been ridiculous, silly threats that were obviously from lunatics piling on to her sudden notoriety. And there had been the more direct threats from people who either knew firsthand or had researched Belclare’s annual traditions. “It’s not a big deal.”
“No? I think I’d disagree if you told me the truth.”
She forced her lips into a reassuring smile. “It was a silly one,” she managed. Why could she be so strong for the people in her department and hold her ground with the likes of Mayor Scott and Mr. Filmore but not with Riley?
With Riley she was too ready to confess her weaknesses and worries. Though she wouldn’t change a thing about her decisions, she had the irrational urge to discuss those decisions with him. He triggered some tiny, long-forgotten part of her that trusted people. The part of her she’d shut down in favor of navigating the boys’ club that was law enforcement. Taking over as chief in Belclare had been a step up the career ladder, but the welcoming people here had given her a significant measure of relief, as well. Her officers and support staff served Belclare with pride, accepting her easily enough. That didn’t mean she burdened them with the thoughts or concerns that fell on her shoulders.
Until the drug bust, she hadn’t needed to. Her role as police chief came with a burden of responsibility that she carried willingly and easily. Previously, the most serious crime in Belclare had been the occasional petty theft or bar fight. She wouldn’t allow that reputation for safety to change. Not on her watch and especially not during the tourist season that buoyed the town from year to year.