15
HAYES
“Here’s what I know.”
Kennedy spun in his desk chair as I came in the command room. I’d been up his ass from the moment he stirred at sunrise to research Megan’s intruders.
Now it was only eight, but the scent of garlic and meatballs from the kitchen made my stomach rumble. Mrs. L said she was making Italian for dinner, and it seemed to be an all-day process.
I’d already done five miles with Taft then showered. Kennedy had kicked me out after I’d shared all the details I could about the men at Megan’s house.
Now, I dropped into Mrs. L’s old chair. It had lace doilies on the armrests and a basket of yarn sat beside it. I felt out of place in the thing but had to admit it was comfortable.
“Her security system’s good. Too good for a small-town deputy,” he said.
“I noticed.” A
