Entitled to Kill by ACF Bookens

Author:ACF Bookens
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Andi Cumbo-Floyd

* * *

We all rushed inside and locked the door. I dialed the sheriff’s office, and the dispatcher said she’d send over a car immediately. “You want me to let the sheriff know, too, Harvey?” she asked.

I paused. I wasn’t sure. I knew he’d find out in the morning first thing, and I hated to disturb him this late in his evening. “Nah. The truck is gone, and we’re safe. Nothing more he can do before morning anyway.”

The officer came by right away and took statements from each of us. Unfortunately, the bright lights of the truck combined with the couple bottles of wine meant none of us could say more than it was a pick-up truck, gray or silver. At least we were consistent in that bit of information.

After the patrol car left with assurances from the office that he’d do a careful scout of the area and then come back through regularly overnight, we settled in with hot cocoa and a fire. Aslan settled her black and white girth on my lap as if she knew I could use the support and found it necessary to show Mayhem the proper way to love a human. The dog would NOT leave my feet and kept licking my hands. Taco had adopted Walter and was draped across his legs in an act of relaxation that was enviable.

“Well, message received, huh?” Mart gave me a pointed look.

“I’d say so, but what message and from whom?” I tried to look innocent, like I wasn’t doing the exact opposite of what Mart would like me to do here. I knew she wanted me to drop this, but it felt impossible, especially now.

“Do you guys know that truck?”

I looked at Mart, and she sighed. “No, I don’t recognize it. Harvey?”

Sitting back against the cushion and trying not to incur the wrath of the chubby cat, I tried to think about whether I’d seen it before. I felt like I had, but in the dark, I didn’t get a good enough look to be sure of that . . . and even if I had, I wasn’t recalling why it felt familiar. “Maybe. But I’m not sure.”

“The sheriff might know it,” Walter said as he dropped another marshmallow in his mug.

“Maybe. But here’s my question, why is someone threatening us? I mean the person who had a reason to worry is now dead,” I paused as I pictured Rafe’s terrifying face in his kitchen, “and I can’t think of another person who cared enough about Harris or Rafe to be bothered by my, um, curiosity.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Mart said under her breath and then winked at me.

“I don’t know all the details yet,” Stephen said, “but there is one person who cared about both of those men, right?”

Mart and I locked eyes. “Miranda.”

The air in the room got heavy. None of us, not even Stephen and Walter who only heard her story, wanted that idea to be true, but it sounded, again, like the most likely suspect was Miranda.

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