13. Char #2
He squeezed my hand, his thumb tracing designs on the top of my skin. “You have my word. This may have come as a shock to you guys and the bar, but it wasn’t a shock to her. The second I knew what the guys were doing, I went and told her.”
My heart stopped in my chest. “Wait, she knew?”
“She did.”
I slid my hand away from his. “How long did she know?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me, yes.”
He cleared his throat. “A month.”
“Four weeks!?”
Miss Lilly knew four weeks beforehand that the guys were purchasing the bar?
She acted like she was blindsided, just like the rest of us!
I leaned heavily back into my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. The more I figured out, the more I wondered if this place had ever been home.
The more I learned, the more I wanted to scream.
“Why didn’t she tell us?” I whispered.
“I guess she just didn’t wanna disappoint you guys,” Sheriff Nielson said.
“Did she think we would’ve judged her or something?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Miss Lilly was always eccentric. No one really knows why she did half of the stuff that she did.”
“But if she would’ve just told us, then I wouldn’t have?—!”
Silence fell between us. “Wouldn’t have what, Miss Char?”
I swallowed hard. “I never would’ve tried to dig into the guys to find a way to get them to leave and give her the bar back.”
At first, he chuckled, and it confused me enough that it pulled my gaze back to him. But as I studied his face, I noticed that he actually tried to hold his laughter back.
“What?” I asked.
“You?” he asked as he pointed at me. “Making the guys leave?”
My face fell. “Seriously, Nielson?”
He struggled to contain himself. “You getting the bar back?”
I blinked. “Sheriff.”
He held his stomach and sputtered spit between his lips. “Is that what you were trying to accomplish?”
I snickered, but couldn’t help the grin that crossed my face. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
And that’s when his head fell back with laughter. “Oh my God! We were wondering for days what the hell were you doing!”
I furrowed my brow as confused giggles fell from my lips. “We?”
He brought his head back up and looked at me through glistening eyes. “The guys. The guys kept—oh my God, Char. You pissed them off so much. I can’t even tell you how many times those guys bitched at me over the phone about you. We couldn’t figure out what the hell you were doing!”
I wrinkled my nose. “Wait, you knew about?—”
He threw his arms out. “Who the fuck do you think those overgrown babies call whenever they gotta bitch to someone?”
I smiled, because I had to admit, part of it was entertaining. “Daddy Nielson?”
He barked with laughter. “You’re damn right they do.”
I raked my hands down my face. “Jesus Christ, what have we gotten ourselves into?”
A comfortable silence fell between us once more and I picked up my fork to take more bites of my food. It was delectable, and I hated that it was getting cold. But I didn’t want to fill myself up too much.
Because then, I just wanted to go to sleep.
“Captain Ryan Murphy,” Nielson said.
“Hmm?” I asked as I sipped my tea.
“That’s Doc’s name.”
I froze. “What?”
He twirled his finger in the air. “Back to what I was saying: when Deacon told me that they needed an extension, I figured there was trouble to be had. He wasn’t very forthcoming with what happened on their end, either, so I was pretty much in the trenches.”
“Sounds like him,” I muttered.
He smiled. “No fucking joke. But the point is, while I was doing my digging into what was happening, I got a phone call from a Captain Ryan Murphy.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Captain of what?”
All he did was grin, though. “When I took the phone call, he told me that one of his agents would be crossing through town on occasion and to not be alarmed if there was a federal presence in Layborn.”
My jaw hit the fucking floor. “Wait, what!?”
He nodded slowly. “Yep. He told me that it was just his job to inform the head of local precincts whenever a town might be caught in the crossfire of an op they’re running.”
I leaned forward in disbelief. “You’re telling me that Doc is Captain Ryan Murphy, and that Captain Ryan Murphy?—?”
“Is a federal agent, too? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
I raked my hands through my hair. “Holy fucking shit.”
“By the way, that protocol he mentioned? Doesn’t exist. It took a well-placed phone call to a buddy of mine in D.C.
, but it was enough for him to tell me that protocol doesn’t state anything of the sort.
Not for any agency. The only local precinct in any case that has to be alerted to anything, legally, is the precinct aiding in the original investigation.
Then if the whole of the investigation moves precincts, those precincts are then contacted.
But not before, as a precaution. Only if it’s a necessity. ”
I narrowed my eyes. “So who the fuck is Captain Ryan Murphy?”
He held up his finger before he stood. “Hold that thought. Hands were much too full earlier. Be right back.”
I sat there on pins and needles, waiting for him to return.
I held my breath until I couldn’t any longer, then I let it out and drew in another shaking one.
Holy shit, I had to get back to the guys.
I had to tell them what I knew. Because I knew they didn’t know.
Not about Doc. Not about something like this.
They’d never fuck around with something this risky willingly.
They were too cold and calculated for that.
Yet, as I sat there, rehashing what Nielson and I had already gone over, I knew that I had made the right decision to involve him. This was much more intricate than any of us were aware.
I have to get back to them ASAP.
“All right,” Sheriff Nielson said as he slapped a folder full of papers in front of me. “There we go.”
“What’s this?” I asked as I pulled it toward me, pushing my half-eaten tray of food out of the way.
But he placed his hand on top of the folder, preventing me from opening it.
“Sheriff?” I asked cautiously.
He bent down into my field of vision. “If you want the listening devices to come back after seeing this, I completely understand.”
I nodded softly. “Anything else?”
He moved his hand and sat back down. “No. Take your time. I’m here if you have any questions.”
So with a mind vibrating with curiosity and a trembling hand, I flipped the folder open.
I stared at the swarthy-looking man in an all-black suit with a cheeky, half-assed, pearly-white smile on his face.
His tanned skin made his brown eyes sparkle, and his raven colored head of hair matched his outfit like a glove.
“Who’s this?” I asked.
“That,” the sheriff said as he folded his arms over his chest, “is Captain Ryan Murphy. Also known to the guys as ‘Doc.’”
My gaze then fell on his personal details, and I swear they couldn’t have gotten any wider if I tried.
“And I’m about eighty percent certain he’s the dirty fucking cop that woman has been chasing,” Nielson said.