As a matter of course in the investigation of Darren Newcomb’s murder, Newcomb’s home had been searched and Clinton Bonar and the men he’d worked for had received visits from Frank.

It was also not a surprise that they found Newcomb’s house had been tossed and whoever tossed it did a thorough job. Almost the entirety of it was destroyed. Couch cushions torn open. Mattresses slashed. Carpet pulled up. Linoleum ripped away. Dresser drawers broken. Even pockets in clothing turned inside out or ripped out completely.

Whether they found what they were looking for was anyone’s guess.

Chace had visited the scene. Even though Frank was primary that didn’t mean Chace wasn’t still looking for his unwanted but dead wife’s murderer.

What he saw made him come to some conclusions.

Newcomb and Misty’s murderer, if they were the same person, knew that when he did Misty his tracks would be covered by the dirt at CPD. That didn’t mean he wasn’t careful with everything but his se**n. With Newcomb, he left them nothing. Whoever tossed Newcomb’s house also left nothing but a mess. No prints. No one had heard anything or seen anything. Then again, Newcomb lived local but removed, up in the hills at the east of town. The closest house was a wood away. Easy not to hear or see a thing.

Still, Chace didn’t think the killer did the search. He reckoned the man got in, did his thing, and got the f**k out. Whoever went through Newcomb’s house took their time. A man with one, possibly two local murders on his hands would not hang around.

This meant Bonar and the Boys had a team working Carnal and therefore shit hitting the town was shittier.

Further, Bonar and the Boys were not thrilled to get visits from Frank.

This was communicated through voicemail by Bonar and Chace’s father. He’d ignored both calls and listened only to Bonar’s message. He deleted his father’s without listening. This was because, from experience, he knew that even the man’s voice set his teeth on edge in a way that could stick with him for days.

But he’d replied to Bonar in a text, Threat was made against Newcomb to a police officer. This was reported. Murder investigated by the book.

This was all he said, he felt it said it all so he intended to say no more. After receiving this text Bonar had called him three times. Chace had answered the calls then immediately ended the calls without even putting the phone to his ear, taking away Bonar’s opportunity to leave a message.

He gave up.

But Chace knew they hadn’t.

Chace knew Newcomb was a moron, racist pig who beat his wife but he was not stupid enough to keep the shit he had on those men at his house and he was a good enough father not to want it close to his kids. Where he kept it or who he gave it to either still had it and were in danger or it had been found and the threat was over.

Frank was looking into the former and not coming up with much.

They’d have to wait and see if it was the latter.

If this wasn’t enough to make his thoughts heavy, there was more.

The library.

Chace had made five calls to the president of the City Council asking for specifics about the future of the library and when the library’s possible closure would come up for public discussion at an open Council meeting.

Although all his calls and messages were taken by Cesar Moreno’s assistant, Chace had not received a call back.

Chace knew Cesar Moreno, the City Council president. He knew him as a good man, a family man and a devoted husband. The kind of husband who still held hands with his wife even though they’d been married eighteen years. The kind of father who was always at his three sons’ baseball games. The kind of father who doted on his only daughter like she was a princess.

In fact, his daughter’s Quinceañera last year was such a huge event, it was still talked about. Well-attended, most the town invited, no expense spared and all of the traditional ceremonies, such as the Thanksgiving mass, the donning of the crown and the changing of the shoes were performed.

Chace knew Cesar well enough he was invited to the Quinceañera but since Misty was still alive and he’d have to bring her, as he usually did when they received an invitation as husband and wife, he declined attending.

Cesar knew Chace enough to understand.

Misty had been devastated. She liked a good party, a chance to dress up and a further chance to strut around on Chace’s arm. This was why he very rarely gave her those opportunities. That and he couldn’t stomach spending time with her.

Cesar had also kicked in the instant shit went down at CPD. His hands were tied when Arnie was at his zenith of power and he didn’t like it. But he was smart enough to keep quiet about it in order to protect himself and his family from being targeted and he did what he could within the Council and as an advisor and leader in the town.

Therefore, the moment he could begin clean up, he did. Openly, honestly, quickly, no red tape and a great deal of communication. The goal was to communicate to the town that the storm had passed and it was a dawn of a new day. Chace knew he threw himself into this including spending countless hours engaged in reorganizing the Department, searching for replacement personnel, hiring and working with consultants and holding town meetings to gather feedback and keep citizens informed.

So his non-response to Chace was a surprise Chace didn’t like and further didn’t get. From what he knew of Cesar, he was a civic leader, a cultural leader, a respected businessman and a decent family man. He was honest, direct and approachable.

This was not his MO at all.

And Chace didn’t like it.

“Please don’t curse.”

Faye’s voice took him out of his thoughts and he asked, “What?”

He felt her eyes on him so he glanced at her before looking back at the road as she repeated, “Please don’t curse in front of my family.”

“Faye –”

Her hand gave his a squeeze and he felt her body lean toward him as she went on, “You should be you, of course, but Dad’s a deacon at church. He mows their lawn and trims their shrubs in the summer. Mom designs the Sunday programs. And Mom gets mad at me when I say ‘frak’ and that isn’t even a real curse word. But she feels the meaning behind it is enough. I’m twenty-nine but she still hands me guff without hesitation.”

He gave her hand a squeeze back and replied, “First of all, meetin’ your family, I’m not gonna swear. Second, there’ll be kids there so I’m not gonna swear. And last, when your Dad came for his talk, he swore. Repeatedly. One thing your kid doin’ it, she’s a girl, a pretty one at that, as a parent, you feel you can tell her off for it no matter what her age. But a man talkin’ to a man, they’ll say what they like.”

“Dad cursed when he talked to you?”

Her tone was cute, breathy, disbelieving and Chace grinned through the windshield.

“Yep.”

“Really?” she whispered.

“From memory, he said ‘asshole’ more than once, ‘shit’ more than once and if you count ‘piss-ant’, he said that more than once too. There might be others and I don’t recall him droppin’ the f-bomb but he sure as f**k didn’t shy away from colorful language.”

“Holy frak,” she breathed and at that Chace smiled through the windshield.

Then he quit smiling and dropped his voice low to assure her, “Baby, it’s all gonna be good.”

“Well, you got Mom. I’ve never seen a bouquet of flowers this big.”

She was not wrong.

Chace hadn’t ever bought flowers for a woman and seen the results so he didn’t know a fifty dollar bouquet was that huge. He frequently sent flowers to his mother. But he called in the order and rarely saw the result since he rarely went home. Further, he spent seventy-five dollars on his mother’s flowers. Which, from the arrangement currently lying across Faye’s lap that Holly at the flower shop made up, with a gleam in her eye after he told her how much he was wanted to pay, meant his mother’s were likely enormous.

So it was no wonder his Ma always called, beside herself with joy when she got them. He thought she was just being sweet.

“It’s going to be all right,” he told her as he turned down the road northwest of town that led to the Goodknight house, a road nearly directly opposite where Chace’s house was located at the south.

“Liza will probably be inappropriate one way or another,” Faye stated which meant she either ignored him or was so deep in her anxiety, she hadn’t heard him.

“Faye,” he squeezed her hand, “it’s gonna be all right.”

“And she might have a drama or… you know, just so you know, she isn’t adverse to fighting with Boyd in front of people. Even the kids. If it gets rip-roarin’, she’ll tell the boys to go to another room but she doesn’t care who else witnesses it.”

“Faye,” he gave her hand a gentle jerk then held it tight and strong, “I want this to go well for you but, no offense to your family, I do not give a shit about it. I don’t go to sleep with your family. I don’t wake up to your family. I give a shit about you. But honey, that said, honest to God, I’ll like them. I know this because I’ve lived in the same town as them for thirteen years and I already like them. Gettin’ to know them better means I’m just gonna like ‘em more. That goes south for some f**ked up reason, it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be goin’ to sleep with you and I’ll be wakin’ up with you and the rest of it, we’ll deal. Yeah?”

She didn’t reply.

Chace had to let her hand go to make the turn into her folks’ drive and he did both as he prompted again, “Yeah?”

He got no reply until he halted behind a silver Toyota 4Runner.

When he did that, she blurted, “You come from money and you handle elegant champagne glasses that had to cost a mint like they’re plastic.”

His head turned to her to see her face was pale and plainly anxious in the dash lights.

Fuck.

This was a surprise.

Fuck.

He put the truck in park, switched off the ignition and lights and turned to her.

“Come here,” he ordered quietly.

“I’m right here, Chace.”

“Come here,” he repeated.

“But, I’m –”

“Baby, come here.”

She leaned deep into him, stretching across the cab of his truck and resting a hand on his thigh.

He lifted a hand to the side of her neck, slid it back and up into her silken hair and he pulled her two inches closer.

Then he said softly, “I make almost double what you do and live in a ranch-style, four bedroom house on fifteen acres south of town. I got a manageable mortgage because my Ma’s folks left me a trust. That trust isn’t a fortune but it’s a whack. I dipped into it to get the house I wanted to live in and build a family in. I will not touch it again until I get married and have kids. Only then will it be used to make my house a home and to give my kids an education. It will be used for nothin’ else unless, God forbid, there’s an emergency.”