leave, appreciating how his jeans hung low on the tilt of his hips and—
“Annabel.”
She turned at the sound of her name. Sam was glaring at her. Trevor was assessing her. She set her hand on her hip, giving them as much sass as she could muster. “What?”
“What are you doing? Do you know who that man is?” Sam asked.
“Jesse Willard. Person of interest in an ongoing investigation,” she said, feeling hot and bothered and trying to pretend to be unaffected by her run-in with Jesse. Could her brothers see on her face she was attracted to Jesse? It had been obvious to her, and she felt her brothers would be quick to pick up on changes in her expression or body language.
“Person of interest in a serial-killer investigation. Watch yourself,” Sam said.
Though younger than her, Sam outranked her in the Granite Gulch Police Department. She wanted to shoot her mouth off and remind him that she was a police officer, she could handle herself, and she didn’t need his warning. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing her rookie status combined with Sam’s in with their boss, Chief Jim Murray, could mean she’d face another week of the world’s most boring assignments. As it was, she was doomed to a morning of fielding nonimportant, nonemergency calls, like explaining to the town busybody why a couple’s consensual, adult affair wasn’t a matter for the police or why a missing cat didn’t warrant a fire department, EMT and police response.
“Yes, sir,” she said, keeping her mocking tone to a minimum. She loved her brothers, but they could be overprotective pains in her side.
She returned to the information desk, her body still buzzing from the contact with Jesse Willard. After answering the phones for three hours, her partner, Luis Gonzales, arrived. At least in the afternoon, she and Luis would work the streets, heading out in the squad car and responding to emergencies. Though her brother’s influence in the GGPD meant she and Luis would catch the tamest emergency calls, anything was better than sitting at a desk all day.
Annabel had followed her dreams in becoming a police officer, and she hoped, with more hard work, it would be everything she’d imagined. She’d like to stop actual criminals, prevent crime and be a positive influence on the Granite Gulch community. While she alone couldn’t repay the huge debt her father owed society for his crimes, Annabel felt better knowing she was doing her best.
Maybe someday soon, that would start to feel like enough.
* * *
Another farmhand hadn’t shown up for work. Given the week he was having, Jesse Willard was in no mood to deal with additional problems the lack of help created. Longer hours and less sleep, the downsides of being the boss.
Owning a farm had been his dream, and it had its ups and downs. Lately, far more downs than ups.
Several important customers had cancelled their orders with him. They had hedged around the reason, but Jesse knew. He’d heard the rumors circulating in town that his sister—more specifically, his half sister—Regina was involved with the murders around Granite Gulch and nearby towns. Living in a small town meant the close-knit community led folks to believe everyone’s business was their business. Jesse lived forty minutes from Main Street, and he kept his visits to town brief. He was polite but detached when the town busybodies circled him. He preferred to keep to himself, but rumors about Regina were persistent. The Alphabet Killer was big news, and he couldn’t go a day without someone speculating on the reasons for the murders or the next victim.
Jesse didn’t know why the police and FBI suspected Regina. His older sister was a little off, and she could be disagreeable, but that was a far cry from being a murderer. He suspected it was more guesswork than actual evidence involved. Regina wasn’t capable of committing a murder, especially not a series of murders that were as methodical and cold as the media was describing.
Jesse had driven to the police station that morning, thinking the police would be reasonable. He’d thought they could talk man-to-man, but of course those Colton brothers thought they owned Granite Gulch. Their family tree had its share of nuts, but that didn’t slow them down. They thought Regina was the murderer, and they were bent on proving it. Maybe they believed themselves experts because they’d lived through an ordeal with their father. The similarities in the cases, which the media were quick to point out, were disturbing.
Why were they investigating the case anyway? Weren’t there serious conflicts of interest with the children of a serial killer investigating another serial killer, especially when the cases were connected?
It was another backward thing about Granite Gulch. It ran by its own rules. Add that to the reasons Jesse preferred to keep to himself.
Knowing he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, he headed to the barn. He needed to check his supplies and calculate what to order. Losing customers was rough when his profit margins were slim, but he’d find somewhere to cut extras from the budget.
Some days, he wished he hadn’t bought this farm. He loved being his own boss and setting his own hours, but there was a freedom in working as a farmhand, migrating to a new place on a whim. Setting his own hours often meant working seven days a week to complete tasks, spending ten hours in the field and then handling bills and paperwork another two hours at night.
As he inventoried, Jesse’s thoughts turned to the brunette he had run into that morning at the police precinct. In keeping with his luck, she had been wearing a police uniform. That should have turned him off immediately, but she filled it out nicely and it made him forget how much he detested the sight of the navy uniform in general. The brunette cop was trim and shapely, a woman who could get him going.
Her eyes were intelligent and trusting. She must not have been a cop long. The cops he knew were hard around the edges, having too many experiences with criminals and liars to see the good in people anymore. Most of Jesse’s memories of the police from his childhood were bad: yelling and sweeping in without fixing the problem. When they’d left, it had always been worse.
Maybe the Coltons’ jobs were making them cynical and eager to rush to judgment. They’d grown up with a serial killer for a father who’d murdered their mother. That had to have destroyed them. Who wouldn’t be traumatized by a childhood of violence and loss and spending their careers with liars and criminals? Jesse knew firsthand exactly how hard it was to keep the past as ancient history and not let it creep into everyday life.
“Hey, Mr. Jesse!”
At the sound of Noah’s voice, Jesse’s bad mood lifted. Noah was the son of one of his farmhands and sometimes came with his mother to work. Noah liked talking to Jesse, and since he didn’t cause trouble and his mother worked hard, Jesse didn’t have complaints about him tagging along behind him. He’d actually grown accustomed to the boy’s company and enjoyed listening to his stories.
“Did you hear the good news?” Noah asked.
Jesse could use some good news. “Nah, what did I miss?”
Sometimes, Noah’s news was about his sixth grade class, which wasn’t anything for Jesse to get excited about, but the boy needed to talk. Jesse hoped he could sometimes offer advice to keep Noah on the straight and narrow. He was a good kid, and, despite his father having left Noah and his mom before Noah was born, Noah didn’t seem lacking in parental love.
Noah tipped his red ball cap back on his head. “Mom’s having a baby.”
Jesse stopped, unsure if he had misheard
