“Okay.” She swung the pack off her shoulder and then handed it to me, blowing out a relieved breath. I’d been right. The thing weighed a good thirty pounds; I slung it over my shoulder.
“What do you have in here? Rocks?” I chuckled.
She smiled, then turned back to Precious. “We’ll be back.”
We walked to the door, and she pointed to the pack once we were outside. “There’s water, an evidence collection kit, and a Geiger counter in there. That’s why it’s heavy.”
I lifted my brows as we stopped on the sidewalk in front of the station. She pointed to her cruiser, but I shook my head. “We’ll take my truck this time. Just give me directions.”
Sally shrugged. “Okay, Sheriff Harmon. That’s your call.”
We got into the truck after I placed the heavy pack in the truck bed. I started the engine, and Sally pointed me in the direction of the bed-and-breakfast on the east edge of town. “So, what do we need a Geiger counter for?” I asked. “Precious said it was a gold mine.”
“She was wrong. That’s what we tell people because we don’t want to scare folks into getting curious about it, but the Hawk Hills mine isn’t gold. It’s a uranium mine,” Sally said, frowning deeply.
“Oh,” I said, sighing. “Okay, then.” I started the engine and pulled out of the parking space, following the road out of town, passing the bed-and-breakfast. I noted the look of the place which mimicked the aura of small town Prosper Woods. It was an old two-story house with a gable roof and dormer windows on the top floor and two large bay windows downstairs. The whole thing was painted a pale green with scalloped white trim, making it look like a gingerbread house.
Terracotta pots with bright pink and red geraniums were strategically placed on the wide porch which included lots of rocking chairs and bistro tables for relaxing and outdoor dining. Purple wisteria hung down from the porch awning.
The Prosper Woods B&B looked very inviting, and I bet it would photograph beautifully for a destination website. If the pictures of the interior were as nice as the outside façade, and I was booking a vacation in a small town, I’d choose the place in a heartbeat. I really hoped it would attract tourists. Then again, I had an ulterior motive for wanting the inn to succeed, since Vincent’s antique shop would do well with the touristy crowd. I almost smiled as I thought of my lover but instead, I remembered that I’d meant to bring up the topic of shifters and other paranormals with Sally. I cleared my throat.
“Before we get out to the mine, I have to tell you something and I want you to be completely honest with me. Okay, Sally?” I glanced at her, seated in the passenger seat.
She glanced back and frowned slightly just before giving me a sharp nod.
“Sure, Sheriff. Whatever you want.”
I cleared my throat again. “Do you remember when I asked you about whether you believed in paranormal beings?”
“Yeah,” she said as I focused my stare on the road.
“Well, you know in the TV shows and movies how there are some kinds of paranormal beings that can smell when there’s another one around?”
“Sheriff, if you’re trying to tell me that you’re a shifter, I already know that,” Sally said.
My heart sped up as I turned to stare at her in complete shock.
She smiled back at me and pointed out the windshield.
“Watch the road, shifter.” She chuckled like it was all super funny.
I turned back to the road feeling like I was dreaming this conversation. I’d somehow known about her but having it spoken out loud was so weird. I swallowed before my next sentence.
“So…what are you?”
Sally chuckled, and I glanced over at her, a little uncertain about what she found so hilarious about this conversation.
“What’s funny?” I asked.
“You’re gonna crash the car, Sheriff,” she said, pointing out the windshield with a smirk on her face.
I growled before shifting my eyes back to the road. “Well…what are y—”
“I’m a hedgehog,” she said, this time with pure mirth in her voice.
Chapter Two
Prosper Woods Chronicle. Letters to the editor:
“I went to pick up my truck from Nick’s…that mechanic shop in town, and I was surprised to see cockroaches rotatin’ my tires. Now, I ain’t a fella to complain…‘specially when the work’s damn good, but really…it makes me reconsider how I feel about vermin.” Signed, “Exterminatin’ ain’t fun no more.”
Vincent
About four o’clock in the afternoon, my phone rang, and I fumbled for it in the darkness. The bright LED screen lit up my basement bedroom and I immediately recognized Scott Templeton’s number in Caller ID. I sighed, swiping the screen and putting it to my ear to talk to my store manager.
“Vincent.” My throat was scratchy from sleep. “What’s up, Scott?”
“I am so sorry to bother you, Mr. Lasco. I know the rules about calling you during the day, but I have a pressing concern that just couldn’t wait.”
I cleared my throat again, sitting up in bed and letting the sheets fall away from my nude body which still smelled like Romeo and our marathon lovemaking session the night before.
“It’s fine. What can I help you with?”
“You wanted us to unpack several boxes of old books today and we’ve done just that. I figured you must have some sort of price list and I meant to ask you about it when I saw you this evening. Obviously, I don’t want to underprice anything. Anyway, I digress.”
“It’s fine, Scott. Go on. What can I do to handle your pressing concern that can’t wait a few hours?”
He cleared his throat. “Oh…yes…well, a few of the town’s tourists stopped by the store. One gentleman in particular wants
