Page 57
He shook his head, amused. “You ever turn it off?”
She looked up, deadpan. “Not in my nature.”
He let her have that one. “So, what do you want to know about the town?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Who’s got the most to gain from the warehouse going up in flames?”
“I already gave you the list with who I think has the most. But also, anyone who doesn’t want a new development. Some people like Sweet Bloom exactly as it is.”
She scribbled, then tapped the pen against her notepad. “You didn’t mention the old co-op board either time.”
He nodded, impressed by her keen observation. “Did your homework, I see. Yeah, some of those folks have axes to grind.”
She jotted more notes. “What about you, Chief? You got a dog in this fight?”
He laughed. “Not on your life. I prefer my fires to be the accidental kind.”
She almost smiled at that, then changed subjects so fast he almost missed the transition. “When’s the last time you had a structure fire like this?”
“Not since I’ve been on the department, anyway,” he admitted. “Closest was back when my dad was chief—there was a house on the south side that burned to the ground, had the same patterns and scent.”
Desiree leaned back, eyes narrowed. “So, either someone’s waited a long time to start burning again, or it’s a coincidence.”
He shrugged. “Could be either.”
Ruth arrived with two mugs and a plate of peppermint kolaches, set everything down with the grace of someone who’d done it ten thousand times. “I got these from next door for our visitor. You let me know if you need a refill,” she said, then winked at Desiree and glided away.
Desiree eyed the pastry with suspicion, then took a bite. Her eyes widened, just a touch, before she schooled her face back to neutral. “I’ve had worse.”
Brandon grinned. “High praise.”
They ate in silence for a minute. Brandon sipped his coffee and watched the townspeople filter in—old men with newspapers folded under their arms, a trio of housewives in workout clothes, the Becker twins arguing about something in the corner—all normal, all routine.
She finished her coffee and set the cup aside. “Are we done with the tour, or is there a second act?”
He stood, tossed a twenty on the table. “You’re going to want to see the wishing well.”
She arched a brow but followed him out. The morning was warmer now, the sun melting the frost from the sidewalk. They walked the circle, him pointing out landmarks as they went—the town library with the crooked steps, the old mill converted to a feed store, the church with the leaning steeple that nobody got around to fixing.
Desiree asked smart, pointed questions about every building: who owned it, how long, any history of insurance claims or vandalism. He answered as best he could, and when he didn’t know, he admitted it.
They reached the edge of the park, and the wishing well was dead center—stonework perfect, shingles new, garland looped around the beam. Brandon fished two pennies from his pocket and handed one to her.
She took it while eyeing him. “You do this with everyone?”
He shook his head. “Just the people who look like they need a wish.”
She stared at the coin for a long second, then flicked it into the well. He waited, then dropped his own. She didn’t ask what he wished for, and he sure knew better than to ask her.
They lingered for a minute, just enough to feel the wind cut through their jackets. Desiree was first to break the silence. “Who do I talk to about getting the warehouse’s official ownership history? Not just the rundown of local gossip and innuendo about the place.”
He turned, matching her briskness. “I can take you over to county hall. Records office is already open.”
She met his gaze, eyes unreadable. “Let’s go.”
He wondered if her wish was the same as his—to prove himself worthy of his new position. Probably not. She didn’t seem like someone who needed to prove herself to anyone.
They crossed the street and made their way into the Sweet Bloom County Hall. The building was an unassuming low-rise, brick building.
