Just like when the cops use probable cause to enter a home, I now had enough suspicion to take my chances with the courts.

I started back toward my car, but then turned again. He parked in the police lot, and I never heard the little beep beep from a door lock. Was he so self-confident that no one would fuck with him to leave his car unlocked?

I tried the handle.

It popped up, and the door opened.

"Oh, Bradley."

So much to learn about living in Pelican Bay.

To save my hide, in case he claimed I was trying to steal the car, I grabbed the jacket and slid into the passenger's side. I couldn't steal a car from the other seat. I fluffed out the jacket and turned it over to the back.

There were large golden letters on the back of the jacket.

FBI.

I shook my head.

What in the hell was he doing with an FBI jacket in his front seat?

I laid it against the dash and took a picture with my phone. For my evidence collection. His car had a little more warmth still in it, but there hadn't been time for the car to fully heat up from wherever he'd come from. I rubbed my gloved hands together to keep them warm and waited.

And waited.

Whatever business he had in the building, he was taking his sweet ass time at it.

Finally, right when I thought my tits might freeze off and my adrenaline had depleted, the front door to the police station opened. I tossed the jacket in the backseat and leaned forward to hide as much of me as possible.

I held my breath and then, when the driver's side door wiggled, I sat up and pointed at Bradley.

His wide eyes froze on his side of the door. "Shit."

He was so busted.

I just had to figure out doing what.

Bradley turned like he planned to walk away from me. We couldn't have that.

"I already saw you, Bradley!" I yelled and hoped it made it through the car. It was cold out there and I didn't want to open the door.

His shoulders fell, and he turned back, shaking his head the entire time. Who knew what his problem was?

The door opened with a jerk and he sat in the driver's seat. "It's Officer Bradley, and this is breaking and entering."

I tapped the steering wheel. "Start her up. It's cold."

Bradley released a tremendous sigh that was going to fog up the windows and make real gossip in this town if he didn't get control of himself. "What do you want?"

"Besides you to turn the heat on?" I stared at the ignition until he finally stuck the key in it and turned on the car. "Thank you."

I positioned the passenger heating vents to hit me better and waited for the heater to warm up. It didn't take long.

"Vonnie, I'm serious. What do you need? I can't get caught with you in my car," he said.

I jerked my head in his direction. What an interesting statement. "Why not? Got a hot girl at home?"

Who was he scared might see us? I had the bulky SEAL to contend with, so I had it much worse, in my opinion.

He widened his eyes. "It will look bad for my career."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. You cops would be lucky if I came to work for you."

Bradley huffed. He was full of hot air.

I considered joining the force. The training was no issue, but they had to follow so many rules. Who could keep all that stuff straight? So much red tape.

"I'm going to ask one more time and then I'm done being nice," he said.

I cut him off. "This is you being nice?"

"Vonnie!"

"Fine. If you really must know, I was just admiring your car. It's an older model."

Bradley flipped his head in my direction with another deep sigh. He had his hair longer on the top, and it flopped over with the motion. "I'm on a cop's salary. We don't get free Camaros from the local mob boss."

"Yeah, that's a pity. Isn't it?" Another reason I didn't join the force. It should never be illegal to accept a gift, regardless of the giver. "What's interesting is this thing I found in your car."

I reached into the backseat and grabbed the FBI jacket. Bradley ripped it from my hand. "Where the hell did you find this?"

"In your passenger seat." He had quite an attitude about something he just left lying around for anyone to see.

Bradley crammed the coat into a ball, making it as small as possible. "This is personal."

"Oh, Bradley, that just made it even more interesting to me." Didn't he know how this game worked?

He twitched like it finally hit him. "It's a Halloween costume. I bought it off the internet."

"Really?" I reached for the coat, but he jerked it away. "It's pretty thick material for something you got online. How much did you pay for it?"

I didn't believe a word coming from his mouth, but if he had a source on believable disguises, I needed the recommendation.

"A couple hundred," he said and shoved the coat under his legs. Not suspicious at all.

"On a cop's salary?"

He threw his hands in the air. "Oh my word, Vonnie. What do you want from me?"

The truth, but I wouldn't get that from him. Not about the coat or anything else.

"Fine, your secret is safe with me."

Bradley cranked his head toward me and I swore his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. "What secret? I haven't told you anything."

That's what he thought. He'd told me so much. I couldn't let on my real motives, though.

"It's obvious you're an undercover FBI agent here just posing as a cop, which is why you're so bad at your job."

His face fell. Yup, definitely not an undercover agent.

He ran his fingers through his long, top hair. "I'm a great cop. If you really want to know, I won the jacket in a poker game, but betting is against the rules for the force, so don't tell anyone."

Another lie.

"Okay, sure," I said to let him off the hook.

Bradley didn't know any FBI agents to be winning coats in bets. And cops could totally gamble. What kind of moron did he take me for? It almost hurt my feelings.

The whole situation was suspicious, and I already had a ton of suspicions against the cops in Pelican Bay, hence why I was staking them out. They were up to something, and I'd figure it out.

"Can you get out of my car now?" he said.

"Huh?" I tapped on the glass. "Oh yeah. See you around, Bradley."

"I hope not," he said as I closed the door on his words.

It was still too early to go home unless I wanted to live in fear of Spencer, so I returned to my car and drove to my office. I'd spend a few hours looking over files and searching online to see what I could find about this affair between Trish and Jerry at the diner. I didn't believe her. That wasn't settling well with me, either. Like the time Trish made a new stew and tried to call it gumbo.

Three cars were parked in my office lot, meaning the band was in and probably practicing. I pleaded with the universe they'd gone into a soft meditative gig. Something with rain storms. Maybe some gentle chanting.

A guitar rift hit me as I opened the outer door to our shared hallway. Sounded like they were on the rock phase. Again.

Wonderful.

I unlocked my office door, tapping on the cardboard covering my broken door window, and slammed it behind me. I'd give them a taste of their own medicine. They probably didn't hear.

The office wasn't large, and I found my way to my desk from memory, only stumbling once on the large cardboard box still left over from Broadrick's gift of the lamp. I flicked said device on as I plopped into my office chair and settled in.

The band started up, and the walls shook with the noise from the guitar. The drums kicked in and I opened my side drawer to get my noise canceling headphones as something wet hit the top of my forehead. Another drop plopped on my hair line and then ran down my face.

I leaned back to inspect the spot at the same moment that a tear opened up in my ceiling. Water and pieces of white ceiling tile rained down over me like a waterfall of disgust. I closed my mouth just in time as the water hit my desk and fanned out like a mini tidal wave of destruction.

Why?

Why me?