Tangled Lies by Tonya Kappes

Author:Tonya Kappes [Kappes, Tonya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-26T00:00:00+00:00

13

The lazy beams of sunlight trailed down the spine of the Kentucky hills, the afternoon quiet thick enough to slice. The front of Camp Springs Tavern was buttoned up, its windows like closed eyes, waiting for the evening to wake it from its slumber. I rounded the corner, the familiar back steps appearing like an afterthought against the building's worn siding.

A murmur of voices snagged my attention. Across the road, Willa was deep in conversation with a customer, standing amid the fresh bounty of the family farm stand. I lifted my hand in a half wave, which she returned with a distracted nod, her focus swiftly returning to the sale.

With my gun stuck in the back of my jeans where I’d quickly tucked it instead of putting it into my boot, I mounted the steps, my hand resting on the small of my back, where the metal of my gun pressed against my skin, concealed beneath my shirt. The door to my apartment was ajar—a sliver of darkness that shouldn't have been there. I eased it open, the quiet creak a thunderous proclamation in my ears.

Gun drawn, I strained to hear any noise in the silence. The familiar space of my living room stretched out before me, unchanged yet charged with the presence of an intruder. My breath was a steady rhythm in the stillness as I moved, a shadow among shadows, toward the bedroom.

The figure inside was hunched over my dresser, the contents of which were strewn carelessly. I advanced, as silent as the grave, until the cold muzzle of my gun was pressed against the back of the intruder's head.

"Don't move," I hissed, my voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking through my veins.

The figure froze then slowly raised their hands in surrender. I took a cautious step back, allowing them space to turn. The face that greeted me was both the last and the first I expected to see—Wes.

The look in his eyes was a mixture of frustration and something unreadably softer. "Maisie," he started, but I cut him off.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Wes?"

He sighed, lowering his hands. "I needed to talk to you. It's about the case."

My pulse thrummed in my ears, a mix of relief and lingering agitation. With a flick of my wrist, I signaled for him to start talking until I noticed a pair of my panties dangling from his fingers.

This was going to be interesting.

"And you're finding info in my drawers?" I asked.

Wes caught the direction of my gaze, and a flush crept up his neck. He hastily dropped the garment as if it were on fire.

"That's not—I was looking for..." he stammered, struggling to regain his composure and the authoritative edge I was used to.

I raised an eyebrow, the gun still unwavering in my hand. "Looking for what exactly? Because if you needed a reminder of my underwear size, you could've just asked."

"Maisie, this isn't what it looks like," he said, his voice finally finding its footing. "I was searching for any leads or notes you might've missed.

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