Real Trouble: West Coast Forensics by Keaton Elle

Author:Keaton, Elle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dirty Dog Press
Published: 2021-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

14

Dany—Saturday

While Soren was still busy working, the other officer, Deputy Flynn, pulled Dany aside and told him she needed to ask him some questions. Soren shot him a sort of helpless I’m sorry look and left him in Flynn’s clutches.

“I’ll drop you off at home when we’re done,” Flynn said.

He didn’t really have a choice, did he? Shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, Dany followed her to her cruiser.

“Sit in the front. It will be easier to talk.”

That, at least, told him he wasn’t high on the suspect list. He wasn’t sitting in the back, handcuffed, with the grate between them. She started the engine and performed a three-point turn so they were heading in the direction of the sheriff’s station in Hidden Harbor.

“Soren’s on traffic duty for a few hours,” she said, answering the question Dany hadn’t wanted to ask.

They were both silent for a mile or so, the cruiser headlights briefly illuminating tree trunks and shrubs as they drove. Just after Killegen’s Point, three pairs of eyes glowed back at them, raccoons investigating the trash cans left out for pickup. They really did look like bandits.

“You might as well tell me everything, so I know how much trouble Deputy Jorgensen is in.”

Dany frowned. “Why would he be in trouble?” His heart skipped a beat, and his old friend dread followed. It was a stupid question to ask. He knew full well why Soren could be in trouble. It was Dany’s history coming back to bite him in the ass—again. He was starting to think he’d never escape it.

“Do I really need to spell it out for you? He told me your given name but not much else.”

God fucking damn, everything came back to his family. To the family he had nothing to do with, who he had run from the first chance he had.

“Is there any place I could get some coffee?”

“We’ll go to the station. Sheriff Dempsey keeps a stash of good beans. Not that I care, but you can make yourself a pot. Nothing will be open until six or seven.”

The sheriff’s office needed a makeover. Or something. The deputies’ workstations were all squished together, and the room smelled like burned coffee and something stale. Flynn showed him where the coffee maker was, in a tiny room off to one side, and sure enough, there was a bag of arabica beans stored in an airtight container. Dany inhaled the heavy roasted smell deep into his lungs.

“Sheriff Dempsey does the same thing.” Deputy Flynn watched him with a perplexed expression.

“What? The sniffing?” Dany shrugged. “It’s part of loving coffee, I guess.”

Minutes later the coffee maker was popping and hissing as the water heated and the coffee began to dribble into the carafe.

“Come back into the bullpen when you’re ready.”

Even if he wanted to run, which he didn’t, there was nowhere for him to go. His car was back at his apartment. He had no money, as he hadn’t grabbed his wallet when he and Soren raced out of the house.

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