Chapter 3 The Phone Call #2
She blew him a kiss in return. “Hurry back, soldier. We have a card game to finish.”
He was sorely tempted to linger in her presence, but duty called.
“Aaron!” The name tore out of her in a muffled shriek. Then she lowered her voice for A.J.’s benefit. “Time to put your game face on.”
He took his time turning around, unsurprised to find her brother stalking their way. He nodded at the guy to acknowledge his presence, earning a glare in response.
Let the fireworks begin.
“He’s not even supposed to be on duty yet,” Aurora protested in a muffled voice.
Except he was.
It felt like a setup. Someone must have purposely maneuvered the situation to throw him and Aaron together on a job, possibly to watch how they reacted to the scenario.
If A.J. had to guess, Decker Kingston was behind this.
But why? Did his new boss suspect the truth—that A.J.
’s reasons for being in town had more to do with Aurora’s brother than Aurora?
He performed a rapid survey of their surroundings, but it was impossible to tell if Decker had embedded himself in the growing crowd of spectators.
A few people had cell phones raised in the air, snapping photos and recording videos.
It was possible the security cameras at Modello’s were catching some of the action as well.
Aaron reached the edge of the taped-off area, yanking the yellow caution tape higher to step beneath it. Then he finished stomping their way. “What are you doing here?” He ignored A.J., directing his question at his sister.
She shrugged offhandedly. “My boyfriend got called in, the same as you.”
“No, not the same as me,” he returned coldly. “I’m a police officer responding to a 9-1-1 call.” His meaning was clear. A.J. wasn’t a police officer and therefore shouldn’t be present.
“He works for Lonestar Security now,” she informed him in a gotcha voice.
Her brother’s expression grew darker. “Since when?” He ground out the words.
“Since a few hours ago.” A.J. wasn’t sure why he was enjoying the guy’s discomfort so much. “I’d rather be under the hood of a car, but I can’t seem to outrun my career in law enforcement. Someone’s always nagging at me to get back to work, helping maintain the peace.”
“You’re still retired.” Aaron shook his head balefully. “Working in private security isn’t the same thing.”
A.J. agreed wholeheartedly, but he couldn’t resist needling the guy.
“In this town, the lines seem to be blurred between the two. I’m being told that Lonestar Security occasionally gets called to assist in crime scene investigations, so feel free to put me to work.
” Due to the number of phone cameras aimed their way, he kept his voice low.
Aaron sent an irritated look at a teenager who was shutter-snapping photos. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “How exactly do you plan to help out?” His tone suggested that A.J. would only be in his way. In addition to being a dirty cop, he was apparently full of himself.
For Aurora’s sake, A.J. held on to his temper.
“Besides twenty years of conducting police and security operations both domestically and in combat zones,” he drawled, “let’s see.
I also have a degree in forensic science that might come in handy.
” He gestured lazily. “I’m also pretty handy to have around for coffee runs. ”
Aaron’s expression sharpened with undeniable interest over the last item, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from his sister.
“Don’t you dare,” she seethed at him. “You can use the help, and you know it!” It was a not-so-subtle reference to the fact he was still recovering from his bullet wound.
His glare in her direction deepened, though his next question was directed at A.J. “Why did you bring her with you?”
“Two reasons.” A.J. was all too happy to share them. “She asked to come, and I doubt she would’ve taken no for an answer.”
Unless A.J. imagined it, Aaron almost smiled.
Though A.J. was surprised by the guy’s momentary lapse into humanity, he capitalized on it by pressing his point.
“She has my keys, so she can take off if she needs to.” He angled his head at the onlookers without breaking eye contact with the guy.
“How about we make the evening news doing our jobs instead of standing around jawing?”
Aaron shifted from one boot to the other, then gave a jerky motion for A.J. to follow him.
Success! A.J. kept his expression neutral, tossing a quick wink at Aurora before hurrying after her brother.
Aaron lifted the caution tape to step under it and let it drop back into place before A.J. reached it.
His pettiness was chuckle-worthy. You’re gonna make things as difficult as possible for me.
Check. A.J. lifted the caution tape for himself and jogged to catch up with the angry deputy.
Only after they were out of the spectators’ earshot did he start talking.
“My boss said we’re dealing with a B and E.
” B and E was short for breaking and entering.
“Yep.” Aaron led him around the back of the shop, which was even more dilapidated than the front of it. “Here’s the entry point.” He gestured at a section of the rusty chain-link fence hemming in the tiny yard behind the pawnshop. It had been cut from top to bottom with the sides bent inward.
“Looks like.” A.J. wasn’t sure he agreed.
The fence was still curled inward, suggesting that someone had broken in but had left by a different route.
The clump of animal fur sticking to a single prong of the protruding fence also struck him as odd.
If a bushy dog had passed through the opening, he would’ve left fur on more than a single prong.
The crime scene was too clean. A.J.’s guess was that someone had doctored it, and he was pretty sure he knew who that someone was.
Did it mean the deputy at his side was involved with the burglary?
“Do you have a different theory?” Aaron squatted down beside him, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and popping them into place, but not before A.J. caught a glimpse of white bandage wrapped around his left wrist. The redness staining it looked fresh.
Interesting. “I’m just observing. No theories yet.” A.J. watched as the deputy produced a plastic bag and a pair of tweezers, which he used to retrieve the sample of fur.
Another thought struck A.J. “Where’s the dog?”
“According to Pumpjack Peters? Missing.” Aaron sealed the plastic bag.
“The owner?” A.J. inquired when his companion fell silent.
“Yep.”
A.J. was betting the Pumpjack part wasn’t the fellow’s legal name. “Did you get a description of the dog?”
“Of course.” Aaron gave him a dirty look. “German Shepherd. Three years old. No chip. He was the only security system on site.”
“Was anything taken?” It appeared that A.J. was going to have to drag the story out of him.
Aaron stood. “Let’s go find out.” As they walked around to the front of the store, he volunteered a few more details. “In case you haven’t guessed, the owner is an oilman. Eighty-year-old widower. Wealthy but doesn’t look like it. Lives above his shop.”
A.J. nodded. “What’s his real name?”
“Jim Peters.”
A quick glance at the curb confirmed that his truck was still parked there, and Aurora was still inside it. She leaned across the console, waving at them through the driver’s window.
A.J. waved back before entering the pawnshop. The bell on the front door jingled to announce his arrival, making a white-haired gentleman in denim overalls glance their way.
“Did you find Trooper?” He sounded forlorn.
“His dog,” Aaron intoned to A.J. He raised his voice. “Not yet, sir. We’re still processing the crime scene.”
“Can you give us a description of your dog, sir?” A.J.
glanced around the showroom floor, which resembled an indoor garage sale.
Odds and ends were crammed onto shelves and overflowing onto the floor in places, everything from outdated electronics to chipped glassware.
The lone display case beneath the cash register had its glass doors propped open.
The pawnshop owner sounded close to weeping as he lovingly described the dog’s variegated black and brown fur, along with his decorative leather collar. “My wife had it custom made for him.” His voice cracked.
“Does he bite, sir?” A.J. asked, hoping to distract him from his tears. All dogs were capable of biting, but he was trying to get a better picture of what kind of guard dog Trooper was.
“The only thing he sinks his teeth into is his dinner.” Mr. Peters tugged on a hank of his shaggy white beard. “He’s never met a person he doesn’t want to slobber with kisses. I reckon that’s why I got broken into.”
Aaron strolled around the room, turning sideways to edge around a large pile of junk. “Did you figure out whether anything was taken?”
A.J. was surprised Aaron could ask that with a straight face. He doubted anyone was keeping inventory of the mess in the room. What they were looking at was far from spreadsheet-worthy.
However, the oilman nodded, bristling. “They took a porcelain frog. I know it doesn’t sound like much.
He wasn’t even for sale, but he was a permanent fixture around here.
My wife named him the Frog Prince because he was so tall.
She knitted a crown for him and glued some plastic gems to it.
He stood yay high.” He demonstrated the figurine’s height against the faded knees of his overalls.
“Folks liked to stop in and take selfies with him. Won’t be the same around here without him,” he sighed dismally.
Selfies! A.J.’s mind zeroed in on that detail. If people had taken selfies, then photos of the Frog Prince likely had ended up on social media. It was possible someone had seen the photos and decided to steal it. Why? What was it about the porcelain frog that had inspired a burglary?
He eyed the older gentleman, wondering why Aaron wasn’t asking him more questions. “What more can you tell us about the frog, sir?”