“Well, let’s hear it, Mr. Jones,” District Attorney Wachowski said as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his slim chest. He was a small man with a deep voice, an exercise in contrasts. “Let’s hear this evidence you have which your boss is so certain will convince me to drop the charges against Zeke Rogers.”

The five of us were gathered in Sheriff Peak’s office around the heavy oak desk. He’d inherited it from the previous Sheriff, but the decorations were owned by the county and hadn’t changed all that much. A big wolf’s head on the right, one that always filled me with a bit of revulsion each time I had to see it, and an old Winchester lever-action rifle like John Wayne used to use in the movies hung on the back wall.

Across from us sat Sheriff Peak, who was leaning back in his desk chair with his big belly heaved out in front of him, and behind him stood Deputy Glick.

I glanced over at Rebecca, and she simply nodded.

I hit the little play button on my cell phone and, like the best magic technology could provide, Reggie the Gap’s conversation with me sprang into being.

The five of us sat in Peak’s office, crowded around his heavy wooden desk, listening to the mafia member’s words. When it was finished, I let it play again in case they’d missed anything.

DA Wachowski glanced at Peak, eyebrows raised above his rimless glasses. “Interesting. What do you think, Daniel?”

Peak’s heavy features scrunched up a little, heavy lines forming on his brow. “Sounds legitimate. Where was this recorded?”

I told them, and gave them the time, too. “I can authenticate everything with our IT person’s forensic kit and have it ported over to a digital copy for your use, Mr. Wachowski.”

DA Wachowski leaned back in the chair again, crossing his legs so his pants rode up and showed his multi-colored socks. “You do realize, even if we do authenticate this, we’re going to need something to go after this Reggie the Gap character? I didn’t hear anything that was hard evidence of an admission of guilt in that conversation. Did you, Sheriff?”

Sheriff Peak glanced at him, his eyes searching for the correct answer in the DA’s face. Finally, he must have found it, and he nodded a little. “No, I agree. Not any hard evidence or admission of guilt. Not necessarily.”

Wachowski’s eyes shifted back to me. “At the same time, it does make this whole case with Zeke Rogers look a little iffy. Please understand, I don’t necessarily think this would be enough for you to lose in court. But what always got me about that case was that we’d never seen any real motive. We only had the evidence that pointed to him, and all this talk of his seemed so pie in the sky, like he was grasping at straws.”

“So, what you’re saying is,” Rebecca said from beside me as she leaned forward in her chair a little, “you don’t think Zeke did it?”

Wachowski shook his head. “No, I don’t. In fact, I’ve had trouble believing it since the beginning. But the nature of crime, Ms. Stokes, is that sometimes the motives don’t make sense, but the evidence stacks up and points to a perpetrator. And that’s who you charge.”

“So you’re dropping the charges, then?” I asked, trying to keep the note of hopefulness from my voice.

“I believe that’s what I’m saying,” he replied as he went to stand. “I’ll get my clerk to draw up the papers and send them over to the court.”

Rebecca and I both stood with him and took turns shaking hands before the three of us left Peak and Glick sitting in the Sheriff’s office.

Rebecca had her phone in hand and was dialing Zeke’s attorney the moment she was out. Meanwhile, the DA pulled me aside.

“Good work, Mr. Jones,” Wachowski said. Then, in a lowered voice, “You’re definitely taking a load off my conscience with this whole thing. I knew something was fishy from the get-go, but the sheriff and his deputy had the evidence laid out neatly for us.”

“Well,” I said, “I’m not necessarily up for reelection every few years, sir. I don’t have to worry about my constituents or what they’ll think, just my client’s interests.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card holder. He thumbed through it and pulled out his card. “Look,” he said, “I know Peter Frost, and I know he’s a good man. But if you’re ever looking for a change in career, my office can always use a good, dedicated investigator. We’re competitive, and you’d stay in county. Great benefits, too.”

I was honestly a little shocked, and a little flattered, too. I’d never had anyone try to poach me off the job before. Well, not by anyone except Peter. I took the card from him. It was funny how a potentially life-changing thing could weigh so little in my hand. I just shook my head. “Sorry, Mr. Wachowski, I’ve got a job.”

“Well, hold onto it,” he said, readjusting his glasses on his nose, “in case you change your mind, or if you hear anything of interest about this Reggie the Gap character down in Durango. If you have anything that can be passed up the chain to state or the feds, I’d like to know about it first.”

“Will do, sir,” I said, pulling out my wallet and putting the card away. “You’ll be the first to know, Mr. Wachowski.”

He nodded and, briefcase in hand, stepped out. He stopped at the plate glass door leading to the front entry. “Oh, and Mr. Jones,” he said as he turned back to me, “you can call me Andrew. I think we’ve hit that point, don’t you?”

“Sure thing, Andrew.”

Rebecca hung up the phone just as I was turning back to her. “Well, my uncle’s attorney is ecstatic.”

“I would be, too. Probably the easiest money he’s ever made.”

She grinned. “All thanks to you. My hero.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Team effort.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said as she took a step closer. “I just rode around in the truck with you.”

“No, you helped to shovel ash around in the fire, remember? Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Our bodies inches from one another, she reached down, a little spark popping between us as she slipped her hand into mine.

This was what it was meant to be like. Her uncle’s case closed. Me with Rebecca, with my mate. My one, true, and only love in the whole world. Now we could finally go on a real date. I lowered my lips to hers as she raised hers, reaching up on her tiptoes. Our mouths came closer together.

Closer.

Her sweet aroma engulfed my whole being. My thoughts were filled with the name Rebecca Stokes.

We kissed.

Her lips were softer than I could have imagined, and tasted of sweet coffee and vanilla.

Like magic, the world seemed to melt away around us. I’d never felt so charged, so wonderful in my entire life. It had never been like this with a previous woman, even the times we’d kissed before. It was like every part of my brain and body was snap-crackle-and-popping. Every synapse was alive and surging with energy and dopamine.

And then my phone fucking rang.

We pulled apart, the mood broken as I groaned in frustration.

“You should take that,” she whispered. “You’re still on the clock, right?”

“Yes,” I nearly spat. “Yes, I’m still on the clock.” I yanked the phone from my pocket, saw it was the office, and put it to my ear. “Jones.”

“Matthew?” Lacy asked on the other end of the line. “Matthew, I have to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Zeke’s computer.”

Shit. We’d had her working on that thing non-stop since Monday night. “Hey, don’t worry about finishing up on that,” I said. “Peter told me he wanted to keep having you dig through his search history and files, but I’ve already got the DA to drop the charges based on the evidence I got yesterday. You can stop–”

“It’s not that,” Lacy said, her voice trembling a little as she cut me off. “You need to come into the office right now. I think I found something you’re going to want to see.”