The inventory took her a couple of hours. Duke wandered off at some point, which he often did. He came and went as he pleased. She didn’t worry. She didn’t know where he went every day, but she did know he’d show up at her place when it was time to turn in for the night.
By the time she went back into the store, her father had replaced Kylie at the register. No big surprise there. Their father was far more susceptible to the puppy eyes than Kate was.
“The inventory is done.”
“Thanks, Katy-belle.” Her father infused the nickname with affection. He’d been calling her that for as long as she could remember. “Did you see Luther this morning?”
“Yes. He said he’ll bring the tax forms with him for you to sign on Sunday.”
“Good, good.”
“Do you need me for anything else?”
He smiled fondly at her. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Thanks. I’m going to take off then.”
“Got a hot date tonight?” he teased.
“Several.”
He knew it was her Meals on Wheels night. Once a week, Kate helped prepare and deliver meals and supplies to local residents, mostly elderly folks who lived alone or weren’t able to get to the store.
She grabbed her coat and kissed her dad on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”
“Be careful, Katy. Everything that melted today is going to freeze up as soon as the sun goes down.”
It didn’t matter that she was nearly thirty or that she’d lived in Sumneyville her whole life; her father still felt the need to warn her of the perils of winter driving.
“I know. I will.”
Kate crossed the street to her place and then climbed up into her Jeep, glad for the heated seats as she waited for the defroster to do its thing. Butt warmers weren’t an option she normally would have considered, but the vehicle had come with the package, and the local used car dealer—also a good friend of her dad’s—had given her a great deal. Now that she’d experienced them, however, her ass was pretty sure it never wanted to go through another northeast Pennsylvania winter without them.
As she drove down Main Street, she saw a dark pickup turn off onto the road leading up the mountain and thought about the guy who’d been in earlier.
She hoped he’d meant what he said because she was already looking forward to next week.
Chapter Three
Mad Dog
Mad Dog bit into yet another brownie, savoring the rich, chocolaty taste. It reminded him a lot of the ones his mother used to make when he was a kid. He’d never thought he’d taste one that came close to being as good, but these did. Clearly, the woman knew a thing or two about baking.
The three dozen he’d started out with had been steadily decreasing as he made various stops in and around Sumneyville. By the time he got back to Sanctuary, he was down to two dozen and decided he needed to start rationing them if he wanted them to last.
He set the wrapped plate on the table in his trailer and then proceeded to stow the purchases he’d made for himself. That accomplished, he grabbed one more brownie for the road and took the rest of the stuff up to the main building.
“Where have you been?” Doc asked, joining him as he hefted the bag of rock salt onto his shoulder.
Mad Dog thought of the way the pretty blonde’s eyes had widened when he did that earlier. Doc wasn’t nearly as impressed.
“Just picked up a couple of things in town.” Mad Dog dropped the bag to the stack they already had and added the shovel to their growing collection.
“Uh-huh. You went scouting, didn’t you?”
“I needed food. Two birds, one stone.”
Doc nodded. “Figured as much. Church and the others are inside, waiting for you. Cage has some updates.”
Cage was their resident geek. He was working with Ian Callaghan down in Pine Ridge to get as much relevant intel on the local prepper group that had property bordering Sanctuary—and to which Dwayne and Daryl Freed were card-carrying members. At this point, there was no evidence to suggest that the group as a whole was involved in the series of “mishaps” they’d had last fall. However, with tensions escalating, it made sense to know all the players.
Doc led him not to the war room, but to one of the smaller common rooms—something that might have been called a sitting room back in the early days of the place. After the kitchen and dining room, it was one of the first ones they’d finished. A massive hearth commanded one wall, built with stone found in and around the property. On the opposite wall, built-in bookshelves stretched from the floor to the high ceiling. An assortment of chairs and sofas and table lamps gave the place a homey, cozy feel while the series of large, arched windows kept it from feeling too confining. Sam had dubbed it “the decompression chamber,” and the name had stuck. It was hard to feel stressed in here.
The other partners—Church, Cage, Smoke, and Heff—were already there, as were Sam and Sandy. Sam, he’d expected. She was Smoke’s woman and had been around long enough to be considered one of them. Seeing Sandy there was a bit of a surprise, but he supposed it shouldn’t have been. All indications were that she and Heff were together for the long haul. Plus, like Sam, she was a local and could provide valuable personal insight that digital search engines couldn’t.
Church looked up when they entered. The look in his eyes suggested he knew exactly where Mad Dog had been and what he’d been doing. How Church felt about that remained to be seen.
“Good, we’re all here,” Church began. “I spoke with the DA earlier today. After Freed gets out of the hospital, he’s going to be moved to a state correctional facility and held without bail. She’s compiling quite a laundry list of charges against him.”
Beside Heff, Sandy shifted slightly. “What about Lenny?”
Lenny Petraski was a former friend of hers. In addition to being a cop in Sumneyville, he was also Dwayne Freed’s cousin. They strongly suspected that Lenny had been Dwayne’s partner in crime in last year’s vandalism and sabotage attempts, but they didn’t have conclusive proof.
What they did know was that Dwayne had been staying with Lenny when he went off the rails. As a police officer, Lenny would have known that since Dwayne was a convicted felon, it was illegal for him to own, operate, or have anything to do with firearms or ammunition and that, in order for Dwayne to stay at his place, all weapons should have been removed from the premises beforehand. Theoretically, Lenny could lose his badge, but no one believed that would actually happen.
“He’ll probably just get a slap on the wrist and a talking-to,” Church answered. “The gun Dwayne used was unregistered. According to Petraski, the only weapon he had on hand was the department-issued piece, and he said it had been properly secured.”
Heff snorted. “Yeah, right. The DA’s not that stupid.”
“No, she’s not,” Doc agreed. “But she is up for reelection next year, and alienating local leaders isn’t conducive to maintaining her position. The best thing she can do is throw everything she has at Dwayne and say he acted alone, especially if there’s no proof to the contrary.”
“Local politics at its finest,” Sam commented.