The blunt end of the bat came rushing at my head and I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to see the murder weapon as it killed me.

"Vonnie!" a voice called out, and then two blasts followed it.

The three sounds mingled in the air and echoed through the parking lot, getting stuck on repeat in my ears.

I popped open my eyes to see Principal Rafferty staring back at me with wide ones. His expression changed from shock to disbelief, and his body tumbled forward toward the ground.

And me.

I rolled to get away. The side of my body argued about the motion, but I didn't want to become a principal pancake. He hit the pavement with a squishing sound. Anderson reached us a second later. His shoes splashed in the rain puddles as he sprinted toward the principal.

I held my hand up, letting him know I was fine, but he walked right past me to kick the bat away from Rafferty.

"Thanks for the help," I coughed out.

"Are you okay?" Anderson asked, turning only his head in my direction.

I sucked in a slow and steady breath. My side ached, and I closed my eyes to focus the pain away. "Yeah."

I wasn't the one with a bullet in my back, so compared to that, I was downright peachy.

Rafferty moaned and twisted on the ground as Anderson pointed his gun at him.

"Stop moving and it won't hurt so bad," Anderson said. He grabbed his phone from the trench coat pocket and called someone.

I assumed 911. Or dispatch or whatever. Someone important and not his mother.

"Ambulance will be here in less than three," he said with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder and his gun still trained on Rafferty.

The principal didn't move as much, but he kept up a steady stream of painful moans. "I'm dying. Both of you are just watching me die."

"Probably," Anderson said, his voice cold. Wow, good to know that I'd never pissed him off that badly. He'd never spoken to me with such ice. "I'll make sure the first ambulance takes Rafferty to the hospital and then we'll have Tucker check you out."

I settled my weight on my arms and slowly lifted... about an inch. "No, I'm fine."

Anderson watched as I struggled to stand. Not once did he offer a helping hand. Sure, he had a gun pointed at a murderer and a phone against his ear, but he could have faked it. After this, I planned to swing by their apartment complex and tattle to Lainey about his behavior.

"Broadrick will kill me if you get hurt on my watch," he said and fixed his stance.

Rafferty moaned and held out his hand. "I'm bleeding over here. Doesn't anyone care?"

"Not really." From my position, he'd barely lost any blood. I'd bet Anderson's bullet went into his fleshy side parts and missed anything important. "You don't have to worry about Broadrick. He put Tony in charge of me."

This was the bounty hunter's problem. He was gonna be so pissed about it.

I'd have to buy Tony Baloney two pizzas.

The cop laugh-snorted. "Yeah, sure. He left the unreliable, often out-of-town bounty hunter in charge of looking after you by himself. Right."

Wow, Anderson did not understand sarcasm. Or maybe he did by how much he piled on to that sentence.

I bit the backs of my lips in thought. How many people did Broadrick put "in charge" of watching me? Did he think I wouldn't find out? That man was in sooooo much trouble when he made it home.

"Did you search through those trash bags?" I asked and pointed at the two Rafferty dropped. I needed something to take my mind off plotting Broadrick's murder.

Anderson shook his head. "Do I look like I have time to be going through trash?"

An ambulance with flashing red lights flicked their siren once as they jerked into the school parking lot. Anderson raised his hand to direct them to our location.

He'd need help doing his job with all the commotion coming. And paperwork. That paperwork was a real bitch. Possibly the worst part about being a cop.

I hobbled over to the first bag, the one Rafferty almost hit me with, and ripped a hole in the top.

"Vonnie, that's evidence," Anderson yelled as he stood over the team of EMTs working on Rafferty.

"Yeah, that's why I'm looking through it." Did he think I dumpster dived for fun?

I made the hole slightly bigger and glanced inside before sticking my hands in. I didn't want to leave my fingerprints on bloody clothing. Especially if the blood belonged to the victim.

Nothing.

Well, lots of stuff. Just nothing good.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said and widened the hole more.

The containers from two frozen pizzas sat wadded up and a wrapper for some instant rice. But most of the bag was empty cat food cans. How many cats did he own? I used the end of my pinky finger to poke around and move the cans. They rattled.

Anderson came over to investigate. "What did you find?"

"Empty cat food containers," I said and held the bag open for him. My ribs yipped at the move. "See, this is what happens."

"What?" He always asked what.

"First you don't recycle and then before you know it, you're out murdering people. It's a vicious cycle."

Anderson shook his head. "I doubt there is a correlation."

I disagreed.

"He confessed." It was my word against his, but he'd definitely confessed to the crime. That had to be good for a warrant.

Anderson took the bag from me and set it beside him. "I figured he didn't try to kill you for nothing."

"But I didn't find the tapes." I hung my head. If only I'd put it together faster, I'd have had more time to search for them.

He patted me on the back. "Don't worry. Bradley will find it. I'm driving you to the hospital."

"I'm fine," I said and started for the other bag. It only hurt a significant amount that time.

Anderson flicked me in the side. Pain shot through me, and I winced before doubling over, which made everything hurt even more. "I'm telling, jerk."

He laughed and waved two police cars over to our positions.

* Three Weeks Later *

Heat from Anessa's oven fogged up the window beside me, and I wiped my hand over the spot to clear it away. At least Jeffrery was safe with my aunt and uncle and not roasting by the fire.

"How are the ribs?" Pearl asked from her table, one away from mine.

We both wanted the best spots for the gossip but couldn't share a table. I needed to spread out for my project, and she was too willy nilly with her tea. I couldn't have her dribbling on my crime scrapbook.

"Almost healed," I said and finished cutting out Susan's most recent news article about Rafferty's upcoming sentencing. "The bruising looks worse than they feel."

He was no longer Principal Rafferty since the school board fired him after he confessed to the murder. Since he confessed, it meant he didn't have a trial, which sucked. I mean good that he went right to jail, but I never got my time on the witness stand. I'd make a kick-ass witness.

Anessa walked a tray of cupcakes to the couple almost sitting in each other's laps on her couch by the fake fireplace. I did my best to ignore them.

"Is Broadrick going to freak out when he returns?" Anessa asked, finding her way back behind the counter.

I glued the article to the middle of the page and then wrote the date on top with a thick red pen. To make sure no one missed the important stuff, I also underlined all the mentions of my name in the article. They were getting less with each one.

Hopefully someone else died soon. But like a criminal, not a good person.

I felt bad wishing for someone's death. Okay, fine. Hopefully, someone important cheated on their spouse, and I got to catch them, and it made the paper. Still not great, but no one died. We had to pick our poison in the PI life.

"No, he'll be fine," I said and capped the pen, but not before getting red ink on my fingers. Great. It was permanent, too. I'd have to scrub to get it off.

Pearl laughed at me as I frowned at my red fingertips. "You can't hide anything in this town."

"I'm not hiding," I said, meeting her eyes and wiping my fingers on my napkin. It didn't help.

I considered hiding the attack from Broadrick but figured he'd find out anyway. And then we'd have to go through the whole "don't be irresponsible" talk when none of it was my fault. Anderson should have messed up his hair and followed me outside.

To get around that three-day argument, I hit the bull on the head. Or whatever.

I sent Broadrick a daily photo of the bruising and update on my healing to prove to him everything was fine. By the time he made it back to Pelican Bay, I'd be perfectly normal, and the only person he'd have to yell at was Anderson for being crappy backup.

That is, if he ever read my text messages.

Anessa opened the cookie display case to rearrange them and I peeked at my phone for the millionth time that day.

Still unread.

Earlier, I started counting how many texts he hadn't read and stopped at fifty.

Why wasn't he reading them? Why didn't he respond? I trusted-a little-the government to tell me if something happened. Broadrick said he'd left directions with his commanding officer to notify me. I hadn't totally paid attention to him because I didn't want to imagine a world where he wasn't in it. Now he'd been gone almost a month, and I missed him.

I worried.

A lot.

Even NB lost a little pep in his step without Broadrick here. I kept giving him extra treats, but they never lasted long enough. We missed our guy.

How come it took these super GI Joes so long to save the world?

I solved my murder case in less than two weeks. They really needed to get with the program.

"When is he getting home?" Anessa asked, closing the case with a thud.

My heart rang with the sound becoming heavy as it clenched in worry when I didn't have an answer. Everything in my chest seemed heavy. Like I had a big fat weight sitting on it. Dread surrounded me, and taking a breath became harder.

"I'm not sure," I said, somehow sounding casual and light. "But I'll hear once he's back in the states."

I hoped.

A fresh fear-one I'd successfully pushed back and ignored lit up in my brain again. What if I never saw him again, not because something happened, but because he didn't want me to see him? What if Broadrick didn't come back to Pelican Bay? He was out there alone, with no contact or reminders of what he had here. What if he met some amazingly beautiful and skinny chick on this tour and fell in love? He'd never come home.

I counted to ten to calm my worries and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I reached for my last cookie and took a bite. Broadrick had to come back to Pelican Bay. He might leave me, but he'd definitely never leave NB. Right?

"He better hurry or he'll miss the Memorial Day Festival," Pearl said.

I highly doubted Broadrick even realized we had a Memorial Day Festival. And that it lasted an entire weekend. He had so much to learn about this town.

"There's always the Fourth of July Festival or Labor Day Weekend Games. The Fall Harvest Fest. Halloween and then the holidays," I said. To remind both of us that one missed holiday was no big deal.

Pearl smiled. "You forgot Winter Fest."

"Ah, yes." We always had something to celebrate and to keep us busy. Half of them required costumes, too. That added...something. I didn't know if it was a good something, but it was definitely something. "It's almost graduation season as well."

"Don't remind me," Anessa said, holding up the clipboard she used to track orders. It was full.

If he didn't hurry and get back soon, Broadrick would miss Vivi's high school graduation. He'd probably feel a little bad about that, but saving the world was more important than watching Vivi walk down the graduation aisle.

The woman laughed by the fireplace and then kissed her partner, whose lap she'd taken a seat on. Eww. Really?

"Knock it off, you two," I yelled and closed the scrapbook. "What if Dad sees you?"

Vivi laughed and snuggled closer to Allen on the couch, putting her head against his neck. Our father was not on board with the two of them getting back together. Hence the bakery meeting. Didn't they have a backseat to do that stuff? I planned to start a countdown until they both went to college in the fall.

Pearl laughed again, almost choking on her tea. "Let them have fun. They're young."

"They're in public," I countered.

Anessa brought me another cookie, and while I should have turned it away, I needed the distraction. No one wanted to watch their sister make out with her boyfriend. In public!

A body ran into the closed bakery door, rattling the hinges. We all turned to watch as Katy jerked open the door with a flourish and set the bell above the door into a frenzy.

I bit off half my new cookie. She definitely had good gossip to share.

"Vonnie!" Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she ran for my table.

My excitement over the gossip lessened. I didn't like gossip that involved me, and this obviously did.

Unless it was a dead body.

"We have to hide you," she said and jerked on my arm.

Not good gossip then.

"What?" I asked. Cookie crumbs fell from my lips and landed on the top of my scrapbook.

She yanked at me harder, moving my chair with her effort. "They found your mentor."

"Mick?" He wasn't a great guy or mentor, but he came to town occasionally. It's not like I needed to run from him.

Katy gave me a big jerk, and it tweaked my achy ribs. "They found him dead."

I plopped down into the chair, costing her all the progress she'd made in getting me out of it. "Dead?"

That explained why he hadn't called in the last week. "Okay, that sucks."

I still had a couple hundred hours I needed for my PI license. Now I'd have to find a new mentor. It'd been hard enough to find Mick.

"In your office." Katy stared at me with big round eyes as her fingers cut into the skin on my arms. "They found him dead in your office."

Wha- It clicked.

"But I didn't do it," I shouted and glanced at the woman for confirmation. I'd been at the bakery all morning.

Katy motioned at my hands, and I spotted the red on my fingertips.

"You'll be their top suspect."

END OF BOOK THREE: Third Strike