Several hours earlier, while she’d been at work, he’d called a couple of gun clubs in Lakeland and enrolled her in a four-hour intro to handguns course. The class ended at ten, and the drive home was a full thirty minutes. If she stayed after, even for a short time, it would easily be eleven o’clock by the time she got home. A quarter till was a bit too early to start worrying.
But he wouldn’t rest easy until those familiar headlights rounded the corner onto Oak. He should have gone with her. He could have read while he waited, or hit the mall or something. Instead, he’d spent the last thirty minutes alternating between praying and pacing.
He’d completely lost his objectivity. Forget objectivity—he’d lost his professionalism. There were guidelines for interacting with people involved in cases. Kissing her like he had yesterday was completely outside of what was acceptable, regardless of who initiated it.
The problem was, he was falling in love with her and had no idea what to do about it.
A car turned onto Oak from Main, and anticipation surged through him. Definitely Volkswagen headlights. It pulled into the Parker driveway, and he met her at the door before she could get out.
“How did it go?”
“All right. It’s not as easy as it looks.” She reached across the car to pick up the thirty-eight lying in the seat beside her. His own weapon was hidden under his jacket.
“Did your shoulder handle it okay?”
“The recoil was a little hard on me, but I managed. I have two things going in my favor—my injury wasn’t that severe, all things considered, and it’s my non-dominant side.” She stepped from the car and walked toward the house. “I know more about a gun than I did this afternoon, but if I’m going to be expected to actually hit something, I’ll need some more practice. I seem to do better with a well-placed kick.”
“Yeah, I think I remember that.”
He followed her onto the porch. The barking coming from inside sounded more frantic than usual, mixed with a fair amount of whining. “It sounds like you have a very unhappy dog.”
“This is the latest I’ve stayed out. I think he’s lonely. Or insecure.” She slipped her key into the lock. “Maybe he’s afraid he’ll lose me, too.”
When she opened the door, the whining grew more intense. Jessica laid her purse and the weapon on the end table, then picked up the quivering ball of fur and held him to her chest. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. I’m not going to leave you. At least I’ll always come back.”
Shane watched her reassure the dog with a care and tenderness that was lacking two short weeks ago. She’d recently told him she was considering keeping Buttons. Based on what he’d heard tonight, it sounded as if that decision was now final.
When the dog had calmed down, she put him on the floor and clipped the leash to his collar.
Shane followed them into the yard. “Anything exciting happen today?”
She looked at him over one shoulder. “Not really, but I did learn that Driggers Factory was broken into Saturday night.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I know it’s true, ’cause I got it straight from Carolyn Platt.” She flashed him a teasing grin.
“Without a doubt. So did they take anything?”
“A couple boxes of vases, some really expensive ones. The thief wasn’t very smart, though. According to Carolyn, he left fingerprints all over the place.”
“That’s interesting. I thought the Driggers boys were the ones behind all the mischief in Harmony Grove. But since it was their place that was burglarized, I’d say we have a potential suspect we haven’t even considered.”
Was he a simple burglar, out to make a quick buck by pawning some vases? Or was the theft a smoke screen to throw the authorities off his real purpose? Was he looking for something? If so, was it the same thing Prissy may have stumbled on?
The dog finished, and Jessica led him up the steps. “Hopefully the police will get a match on the prints.”
Instead of following her inside, he wished her farewell at the door. It was late. As soon as she was locked safely in the house, he could quit worrying. Somewhat, anyway. Ever since her conversation with Jarrod yesterday, he’d been on edge. Jarrod didn’t seem the type to rat her out. At least not intentionally. But things could slip. Jess had said she hadn’t heard from him as of last night. Either he hadn’t talked to Hammy yet or he hadn’t been able to learn anything.
Shane headed down her driveway and across the street. Her day was over. His was just beginning. Enrolling her in a gun course wasn’t the only thing he’d accomplished while she’d been at work. He’d had a long talk with Ross, who shared his frustration. The case had dragged on far too long. Almost three months with no real breaks. And since coming to Harmony Grove and getting wrapped up in the Parker matter, the stakes had gotten much higher. They already had one body, with a killer thinking of making it two.
As much as he would like to set up a raid on Driggers Porcelain, if he jumped the gun and acted too soon, he’d jeopardize the whole operation. He needed some solid evidence. So far, all he had were lots of hunches—overheard conversations, vague references that may or may not have anything to do with the Parker girl or his drug case. And he had that photo. The third man was still unidentified. Ross said they were working on it.
He really needed to find out what was in those boxes in that locked room. His gut told him it wasn’t figurines. If his hunch proved right, maybe the evidence there would not only link the Driggers brothers to Priscilla Parker’s murder, but also to his drug case.
If he could slip inside the factory during that several-hour gap between shifts,
