“No, no.” Peter swiped his hat off his head, turning it over in his hands, his light-brown stare still avoiding hers at all costs. “Just a couple of details I need to clear up. You know, to corroborate another person’s story…”
His attention continued to skitter about, the wrinkles over his cheekbones deepening, like he’d rather interrogate a serial killer than have this conversation with her.
Oh no. Surely Dean didn’t say anything…
Maybe her neighbors saw him leave her house. Mrs. Byrne. She’d driven past earlier today, just as Sarah had been talking to Dean. Though, why would she call the sheriff over that?
“Oh shit.” She ran her hand hard over her face. “Dean. He did rat me out!”
Her face went from cold to burning, but aside from her embarrassment, there was something else she wanted to know. “Why? Why would he do that?”
The sheriff shook his head. “You know I can’t share any details on an ongoing investigation.”
“No way, you think he had something to do with what happened to Blaine and Emilia?” One thing at a time. Exonerate the man, then kill him. “Well, if you’re trying to ask if Dean and I were together, then yes, we were. We were at my house till midafternoon the next day.”
Silent seconds ticked by, and it was her turn to peer away awkwardly, even as Peter’s disapproval took the form of a drawn-out sigh. “Sarah, going home with a stranger, this isn’t like you. Is everything okay?”
She kicked a pebble on the ground and watched the sheriff from under her lashes. “I’m fine, just bummed he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“I didn’t give him much choice.” The sheriff offered a tight smile, one that said he wasn’t judging her, just concerned. “Believe me, he didn’t want to tell me.”
She peered away again, making it clear she wasn’t willing to discuss the reasons for her behavior that night. “Should I be worried you were interviewing him?”
“I didn’t get the impression he’s here to cause trouble, but…” The sheriff pushed his bushy brows together and glared at the ground. “What I did gather is that you could do a whole lot better, Sarah. Just promise me you’ll be more careful. That man—”
“Dean and I aren’t a permanent arrangement.” Even as she finished speaking, Peter Marlin peered back up at her, his hands pushed into his hips, just above where he kept his firearm and portable radio.
“Two-forty on 325 Main.” A female voice crackled over the radio. “May need medical assistance. Over.”
Sarah recognized that address and her eyes widened. “What’s a two-forty?”
Sheriff Marlin held her stare, but spoke into his radio’s receiver. “Copy that two-forty, proceeding to 325 Main. Out.”
He turned, already rushing around Maynard’s perimeter toward the parking lot.
She raced after him, her heart clambering. “Peter, what’s a two-forty?”
“Never you mind.” He threw himself into the driver’s seat of his brown patrol car. “And don’t you even think of telling Aggie what you heard. You know she’ll race over to the nursery with that big ol’ rifle of hers. I’ll speak to her in good time, you understand?”
She didn’t get to answer before Peter sped away, sirens blaring.
That chilling wail followed her through the parking lot and back into Maynard’s, where she buried her concerns in work and putting on a convincing display of external calm.
The bar’s cheerful chatter made its way into her ears, and she skipped her gaze over to Aggie, a small horde of smiling locals now sitting at her table because they, too, were in on her annual Walder celebrations.
Sarah didn’t like keeping quiet in an emergency or that she couldn’t decipher what she’d heard on the sheriff’s radio. More than anything, she didn’t like that Aggie’s special night was on track for a likely bad ending.