I freeze up and almost shout Don’t drag me into this, but Miles got his damn sentence out. I don’t want anything to do with some policeman’s gala.
“Of course he can attend,” Rhett says with a wave of his hand. “It’ll be a great opportunity for him to meet your future coworkers.” He stares at me for a moment, and his smile wanes into something else—a smirk, maybe? “How long have you two been together?”
“Almost a year now,” Miles replies.
“Oh? Where did you meet?”
“On the Noimore docks, actually.”
I catch my breath. Rhett smiles his same smirk. Does he remember I said I’ve never been to Noimore? I don’t know, and I don’t like where this is going.
“It’s not a very interesting story,” I interject. “Maybe we’ll bore you with it some other time.”
I glance at the house and smile when I spot Lacy. She’s my ticket out of this. “Looks like your sister needs us,” I say to Miles. “We should probably be going.”
Miles turns his attention to Lacy and nods. “Thank you for stopping by, Rhett. I look forward to the Blue Shield Gala.”
Rhett holds out his hand. “Actually, I also came here to discuss Shelby and his investigations.” He gives Miles a slight nod and then motions to me. “Do you mind if we speak in private? I’m sure you can handle your sister.”
“Of course. No problem.”
I watch Miles walk into the house, my teeth gritted. I don’t want to speak to this man about anything. He rubs me the wrong way. Everything about him. Even when I turn to face him, he still has that odd look. “What is it?” I snap. “I’ve got things to do.”
Rhett, unfazed, says, “So, Percy—or should I call you Pierce?”
“Pierce is fine.”
“So, you know I spoke with Miles at the hospital the other night, after talking to Shelby. Miles is very honest and up-front—it’s a trait I like about him. You know what he said?”
I don’t reply. The cold wind of dusk sweeps between us, and the orange of the sunset casts dark shadows across the dead lawn.
Rhett continues with “Miles said you both used to live in Noimore before moving here. Which is odd, considering what you told me at the police station. About how you’ve never been there before.”
Again, I say nothing.
“And now I’ve come to hear you two met in Noimore. Oh, you know what else Miles said? He said you worked at a lumber mill. Do you know how many lumber mills are in Noimore, Pierce? Or how many are in the county of Noimore? You should take a guess. I mean, you worked in one, after all. I’m sure you’d know a little about it.”
Hot rage mixes with icy dread throughout my system. But still, I remain stone silent.
Rhett takes a step closer to me, until we’re only a few inches apart. In a hushed tone he says, “I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with hero. The last one closed eight years ago. Terrible economy these days, right? That must’ve been hard for you. Being unemployed for eight years.”
“Is there a point to this?” I ask in the same hushed tone, though my voice betrays the surface of my anger.
“Oh, are you getting bored with me?” Rhett asks, his sarcasm adding fuel to my hate. “I haven’t even told you about Shelby’s report. You’re an expert gunman according to him—but public record says that Percy Adams only ever got his hands on a gun a few months ago.”
His green eyes stare into mine with a challenging aggression that gets me tense. I cross my arms, my hand resting over my handgun through my jacket.
“Tell me,” he says, still somewhat sarcastic and amused. “Why lie? It’s almost like you didn’t think anyone would look into it.”
“Maybe the police are incompetent,” I reply. “And I don’t trust them.”
“A man like you wouldn’t, would you?”
“What does it matter?” I say with a forced laugh. “Are there laws against faking a résumé? Otherwise we don’t have any business, do we?”
“Not yet, anyway. But I have to ask one thing. Does Miles know? Does he know the real you, or this charade you’re passing around?”
“Stay away from Miles,” I growl through clenched teeth. “And unless you have something more than conjecture, stay away from me as well.”
Rhett keeps a hand on his belt, inches from his handgun, in a casual yet pragmatic stance. Is he hoping I’ll attack him? Is that what he wants? That would make things easy for him, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t have to get evidence if I assaulted him and he “defended himself.”
Maybe he’s already tried to get evidence. He has quite a bit of knowledge about me—about the fake me, really—which tells me he’s been looking into this. If he doesn’t have anything to arrest me with but he suspects I’m some criminal in hiding, he might be here just to provoke a new crime.
Pretty fucking brazen. He must not consider me a threat—a real threat. He thinks he can waltz up and threaten my life without repercussions. He’s got another thing coming.
Rhett takes a step back and exhales, his hand still resting close to his gun. “Miles is one of the best students I’ve ever had. I’d hate to see him dragged down by someone nowhere near his caliber.”
His statement gives me pause. “I’ve seen the way you talk to him recently,” I say. “I mean it when I say you need to back the fuck off.”
“I’m an instructor at his academy. We’ll see each other regularly, I’m afraid.”
Is he saying this to get under my skin, or is he actually challenging me for Miles? I don’t know, and I don’t care. Either way, he’s a piece of shit. If he wasn’t a cop, I’d throw him off my property, but everything is a goddamn felony when used against anyone in blue. Instead I turn and head for the house—there’s nothing left for us to say—leaving Rhett on the dead grass of our lawn.
Could
