I arrived at the station five minutes early and very hungover. Thanks to Jonah’s magic cure and breakfast care package, I was at least capable of functioning. Though I fully expected to walk in and be asked to leave.

What kind of a police officer could I be if I couldn’t even be a law-abiding citizen?

I couldn’t believe I’d basically handed Connelly a legitimate reason to fire me. I wanted to blame Bowie or Connelly or someone. But I’d been the one to pour half a gallon of moonshine down my throat last night. I had no one to blame but me.

Bubba refused to meet my gaze when I entered.

“Mornin’,” I croaked.

“Mornin’,” he said, busying himself by shutting down his desktop.

There was a tall stack of files on my desk. The sticky note on top said Scan. I fought the urge to shove them off my desk and make it rain decades-old police reports. At least it wasn’t a friendly “You’re Fired” note. I owed Bubba big time.

The conference room was empty this morning. He was probably off digging up Jonah Bodine’s corpse, trying to get a confession out of it.

“Mornin, all,” my dad called as he strolled through the front door. “Any trouble last night?”

Bubba glanced my way.

“Not a lick of trouble, sheriff,” he said finally.

I didn’t know how long Bootleg Springs could hold on to the juicy nugget of the sheriff’s wife and two daughters getting hauled downtown along with half of the rest of town for a brawl. But I was grateful for today at least.

Dad looked in my direction, and I looked everywhere but his face. I was okay at lying, but my defenses were down, swamped in hangover stew.

My desk phone rang, and I pounced on it, eager to put off any interaction with my father until much, much later.

“Bootleg Springs PD, Deputy Tucker speaking,” I said in my most professional tone.

“Is your father giving you any long, broody looks today?” my mom asked on the other end of the call.

I glanced his way. “Sure is, ma’am.”

She blew out a breath. “That sneaky son of a bitch has instincts. I’ll give him that. He must have asked me twenty times how last night went. You don’t think Bubba told him, do you?” She was talking about two decibels lower than usual. Which meant Nadine Tucker was traveling with me on this delightful hungover journey.

My father wandered into his office, and I slumped back in my chair.

“Bubba didn’t say anything to him. Dad’s just suspicious and as long as we don’t give him anything to verify those suspicions we’ll be fine.”

“I threw up twice this morning,” Mom groaned. “I haven’t done that in so long. At least a year.”

I snickered and stopped when it hurt my head. “I threw up once. Jonah made me this disgusting hangover cure. I kept it down for about ten seconds.”

“That was nice of him to deliver it to you next door,” Mom mused. My dad wasn’t the only one with finely tuned instincts.

“I was already there. Apparently I decided to stay at Bowie’s last night.”

“Did you now?” Mom said mildly.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I said quickly before she could get any ideas in her head.

“Cassidy Ann, you do know that man is in love with you, don’t you?”

“Mom!” I hissed into the phone.

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is. The way he looks at you, all soft and sweet. Real deal, my darlin’. What are you gonna do about it?”

I rubbed a hand over my aching head. “I don’t know, Mom,” I finally admitted. “There was a time when I thought Bowie Bodine hung the stars in the sky. Then I find out all it took was one conversation with Dad to scare him off. I don’t want a man that shies away that easily. I want steady. I want a man I know is in my corner. Someone who won’t shake.”

“He was young and dumb, honey. Sometimes they do grow up.”

I thought back to that summer when I realized that my feelings for Bowie would lead to nowhere but heartache. Had I grown up? Or was I still the same scared girl?

“How’s Juney today?”

“Ugh. Your genius sister is fine. She worked out her protein and electrolyte ratios ahead of time and was up bright and early this morning.”

“If I didn’t love her so much I’d hate her just a little,” I laughed.

“Same here,” Nadine agreed. “Well, I’m going to head to the grocery store so I can make your father’s second least favorite meal tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“If I make him any of his favorites he’ll know it’s because I feel guilty. In fact, I should probably invite Gram-Gram over too just to make it very clear I have nothing to feel guilty about,” her mother mused.

My mother was a plotter, a maneuverer, a strategist. It was slightly terrifying.

“I hope you never have to use your powers against me,” I told her.

When she only laughed I felt a nervous tickle in my belly, but I was too dang hungover to pursue the topic any further.

“Well, good luck with Dad tonight. I’m going to go pretend to be a functioning adult.”

“Good luck with Bowie,” Mom said.

I hung up and opened up a report I’d been planning to finish yesterday. Being a small town, our police reports were a bit more entertaining than other departments. I’d pulled over drunk as a skunk Rhett Ginsler on his lawn mower as he cut a lopsided circle through the wildflower bed at Gin Rickey Park. He was upset over something or someone Misty Lynn had done.

Ugh. Misty Lynn. I hoped she’d be smart enough to keep her mouth shut about last night.

“Package for you, Cass,” Bex said, dumping a thick envelope on my desk.

“Bowie?” I asked.

“A teenage messenger. So most likely.”

I rolled my eyes. Only in Bootleg would a vice principal send students on personal errands and no one have a problem with it.

Bex looked at me expectantly. “Well, ain’t ya gonna open it?”

“I don’t need an audience.”

“Sheesh. Someone’s grumpy today. Also, you smell like liquor is leaking from your pores,” Bex said sweetly.

I sniffed at my uniform collar and swore. I should have taken more than a two-minute shower this morning.

Once Bex was back at her desk I ripped into the envelope.

There was a second smaller envelope inside. On the back, scrawled in Bowie’s handwriting was: A night to remember. One date and these photos will never see the light of day.

I frowned and flipped through the first few photos and snarled. Bowie Bodine was a dead man.