Arrested Love (Sweetwater Valley #8)

CHAPTER 1

RHODES

When I open the door and step inside the Sheriff’s office vestibule, Carla’s head pops up at her desk before giving me a kind smile.

She gives off mom vibes, but, then again, it’s hard to avoid that kind of energy with a lot of people in this town after knowing them your whole life and you grow up under their noses.

What that means can vary. Widely.

Were those noses tipped up in judgement? Were their noses all up in your business? Were they nosing around where they didn’t belong?

Probably all three were true.

I was lucky and didn’t get a lot of flak growing up. More than one person has referred to me as a golden boy. Fuck, I was just trying not to stress out my grandma. She didn’t need it, not after taking me in when my parents died in a car accident.

I was young, and I don’t remember them now. Whatever memories I have are fabrications of pictures, stories people have told me time and time again, and what G-Bets, what I have called Betsy Wilder my whole life as far as I know, has told me about them.

To hear others tell it, my parents had the kind of love which hits fast and lasts, as long as you never let go. They grew up here and knew each other young but weren’t really friends. Then one day, it all changed and they never looked back.

The plunk of my filled coffee cup landing on Carla’s desk, the handle turned out, pulls me from my thoughts. It’s too early to be chasing ghosts anyway.

“Let me guess, not much to report?” I tease Carla as I grab my mug and take a drink.

She shoots me a pointed look, and I have to smother a chuckle. What can I say? Annoying her is amusing.

Carla is in her 50s to my 36, which is why she tries to mother me at times. But she never forgets who the Sheriff is. Me.

She doesn’t step over that line, and she never interferes with official business.

Now, if she thought she could get away with interfering in my personal life, I’m sure she’d jump at the chance.

Right now, I don’t have much of one to get involved with, which is the issue she has with the whole thing.

I don’t know what she expects, but it’s not like anyone new has come into town recently.

My life is filled mostly with work.

For good reason.

We don’t have a lot of crime. Speeders. Some idiots. Some good people making bad decisions. Because life. But there has been a dog fighting ring popping up in Loudon and the surrounding counties.

The area is vast and there are a lot of hidey holes which make finding them difficult. They move quickly and have been a step ahead of us for a while. Usually by the time we show up, they’ve left the dogs who are no longer useful to them and are gone.

It’s heartbreaking.

And I’m pissed about it.

We should know something, and I’m fucking tired of chasing smoke and mirrors. It’s just that there is only so much I can do. My jurisdiction only goes so far. If other counties aren’t seeing anything and the ring has moved or gone underground, then I’m fighting an uphill battle.

“The reports are on your desk, Sheriff,” she teases me, “like they always are.”

“You’re extra sassy this morning, Carla,” I throw right back at her. “Everything okay? I don’t need to kick Howard’s ass, do I?”

Carla blushes and I can’t help but grin. She always blushes when I bring up Howard. They’re both divorced, both have known each other for years, but were only acquaintances at best. Now they’ve been dating for a while, and I think it could be something great for them.

“Then he wouldn’t pick up your garbage,” she warns me and makes a tsking sound like I’m the one being ridiculous.

I shrug one shoulder, taking another sip of my coffee. Really, I’m delaying going into my office. Paperwork will greet me and not much else. No, thank you.

“I know where the dump is,” I point out.

Howard runs his family’s garbage pickup business; the same one the entire town uses as far as I know. He charges a decent price, is on time, and he treats his employees more than fairly.

Carla makes a humming sound, and I rap my knuckles on her desk. “You let me know if anything changes. I could take him.”

Her chortle has me chuckling. Carla is an amazing person, but her laugh is either going to sound like nails on a chalkboard or make you laugh right along with her. There’s no middle ground.

Thankfully, it makes me laugh.

“I do plan on heading out to Mr. Jacobson’s place later to see if he needs help with anything, but between Nash and Kimball, he’s been good lately. I just don’t want him to feel like he’s too far out there to have protection or someone to call if he needs help.”

Carla’s eyes go soft and she nods. “You gotta follow your gut, Sheriff.”

With a roll of my eyes and a huff, I walk around Carla’s desk and head back toward my office. I give a chin lift to the few deputies I pass. Once I close my door behind me, I blow out a relieved breath because no one stopped me.

When I look at my desk, I can’t help the way my face scrunches up. While some things have been digitized and have been for years, other things still have to involve paper. It’s ridiculous, but you work with what you’ve got.

The first thing I do is get my computer going and then look through the reports my deputies have submitted since I clocked out yesterday. Looks like it was a quiet night. There was a small fire on the edge of the county, but they haven’t determined how it started just yet.

I glance up at the framed map of Loudon County on my wall and mentally mark where the fire was. With a grunt I force myself to get up, grab a dry erase marker, and mark the glass. It’s always better to really mark it. Not just mentally.

Just as I’m about to start in on the paper in front of me and the files, so many damn files, the dogs we found a few months ago—the ones I watched Kimball, who runs the county’s animal shelter, put her all into saving—pop into my head. I know there’s no way to shake off the image. Not now.

I grab my phone and dial Monroe County’s sheriff—Raymond Lyons—over in Dogwood Ridge. We have to work together, especially with our towns so close together. Close enough that they’re the only rivals we’ve ever had.

The competition is fierce, especially when it comes to high school football. Call it ridiculous if you want, but you take what you can get for entertainment sometimes. A feud born of competition without any real heat behind it can’t be that bad. Right?

Even if it’s Dogwood Ridge that’s been labeled to be on the wrong side of the ridge. I think. I hope.

Maybe.

He answers on the second ring, his voice gruff with a sharp edge, “Lyons.”

“Sheriff Lyons,” I try to make my voice warm, unlike the greeting I got. I’d like to think I’m much more approachable when I answer the phone, but what the hell do I know? “This is Rhodes Wilder over in Sweetwater Valley.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, his tone changing when he knows who is on the other end. I suppose it’s a good thing he’s giving me respect because of my badge and position. “Your ears must be burning.”

“Why is that?” My eyebrows furrow together in confusion even though he can’t see me.

“I was just thinking about calling you,” Raymond says. He lets out a small sigh, “Mayor Cowell wanted an update. He knows we’ve been working together and coming up empty. I figured I’d check in with you to see if there have been any changes since we last talked, and to invite you to the meeting.”

I wanted to grumble. Mayor Edgar Cowell wasn’t my favorite guy.

He’s a little on the pompous side and far too elitist for a man in a town like Dogwood Ridge.

I’d say the same about Sweetwater Valley’s mayor, but Granger Lowe is one of my best friends.

He’s a good man and he sure as fuck doesn’t hound me about my job.

“Right,” I grunt before clearing my throat. “Well,” I sigh, hating the truth of what I’m about to say, “there hasn’t been any changes on my side. No one knows anything, at least they’re not talking, and there hasn’t been any sightings or murmurs about a location popping up in my county.”

“Same,” he rumbles and I can hear the frustration in his voice.

The dogs Kimball is still nursing back to health, since they had such a long way to go if they could even be saved, were found in his county. I’d be frustrated as fuck about not having something.

But that place had been abandoned. Only the echoes of torment and violence remained in the air along with the whimpers and the snarls of dogs who had only known the darkest side of humanity.

“If you want me there,” I offer simply, letting my words trail off.

I won’t lie—Dogwood Ridge isn’t a place I go often. Not willingly anyway. Every time I’m there, I wonder why Lyons hasn’t done something about the motorcycle club who calls the town home. When they come into my county, which doesn’t happen often, I make sure to have eyes on them.

There have been plenty of rumors about the men who ride with the Saint’s Outlaws MC patches on their backs. I won’t say I believe all of them, but I’m willing to bet more than a few have some truth to be found within the tall tales.

Since their clubhouse isn’t in my county, they sure as fuck aren’t my problem.

Now Lyons? It seems like he hates the club, but they’re still there. Is he all talk? I don’t know, but I’m willing to work with the devil himself if it means we get closer to taking down whoever is behind the dog fighting rings.

The thought of people going to one of their fight nights, wanting to see the kind of violence they’d have on display there, has my stomach clenching and I have to swallow hard.

“Might as well,” he grumbles. “Cowell is a good man; I’ve known him my whole life. He wants this dealt with the same as we do, just for a different reason.”

“Optics,” I deadpan, knowing I’m right even without the grunt Lyons lets out. “I get it,” I tell him.

And I do. Granger hasn’t always been the mayor here, and he’s not the first one I’ve had to work with. I’m glad Granger was elected, and I’ll leave it at that.

“Can you be here around 11?” He asks and I nod even though he can’t see me.

“No problem,” I assure him. “I’ll get a little work done before heading your way.”

We don’t bother with pleasantries before we hang up. I’ll see the man soon enough. I send a message to Carla through the internal system about the meeting and then get to work on the paper neatly taking up space—too much space—on the surface of my desk.

I’ll stop in and see Mr. Jacobson on the way back from Dogwood Ridge.

If my luck holds, I’ll get the chance to see Mr. Jacobson’s best friend, Penny, who just happens to be a peacock, chasing Kimball.

They do not get along, which was fine when Kimball only went out and visited the older gentleman to make sure he didn’t need anything for himself or for his animals.

Now that she’s with Mr. Jacobson’s grandson, Nathan, she spends a lot more time out there. Penny hasn’t warmed up to her at all. At this point, I don’t ever see them being friends.

When my door opens, my head jerks up to find Carla giving me a soft smile. She switches out the mug on my desk, picking up the one half-full and lukewarm at best, and replacing it with a new, full cup. The steam coming off the top tells me it’s fresh and hot.

I grin at the woman and shake my head as I praise her, “This is why you’re the best, Carla.”

“I know,” she chirps. She points at the clock and reminds me, “You’ll need to leave soonish to get over to Dogwood Ridge.”

With a grimace I pick up my mug and take a healthy drink. She knows I won’t take it with me on my drive and will grab a bottle of water on my way out of the station.

“I hadn’t realized I’d been working for so long.” I look down at the files on my desk and pinch the bridge of my nose. “It doesn’t even look like I’ve made any progress.”

Carla sweeps away the pile she knows I’m done with. “There,” she gives a sharp nod, “that’s better.”

With a chuckle, I finish off my coffee and stand up and stretch. When I look down at my desk I have to admit, “It did make a difference.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Carla’s voice is cautious, “by the time you get back there will be more to replace this.”

My head drops back on my shoulders, and I let out a growl. “You didn’t need to burst my bubble,” I can’t help the little bit of whine in my voice, and it makes Carla giggle.

“You know me, Sheriff,” she teases, “I tell it like it is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble while making sure I have everything before heading out the door.

Carla runs the office side of things efficiently and I know my deputies will work together to make sure everything is covered here. Still, I kind of hate leaving the county when I might be needed.

“Go,” Carla urges me, “we’ve got this.”

I know she’s right, but I’m just so damn tired of the same updates and feeling like we’re never going to find out who is behind the whole thing. I’m beyond fucking fed up. They should be behind bars.

But I have a feeling it’ll just become a cold case file in my drawer. At least for right now.