The one who tossed out the threat drops the large container in his hand and reaches in his pocket.

“PAP!” His name shreds from my throat on a terrified scream.

The single gunshot echoes into the night as icy fingers of dread grip my chest, and my knees buckle beneath me. It doesn’t take long for me to register that the shot came from Pap, as I watch one of the men fall to the ground.

“What the fuck?” His friend panics and drops the other container before taking off.

I finally find the strength to get to my feet and run over to Pap. I wrap my arms around him with a sob. “Oh God, I thought it was you. I thought they shot you.”

“I told you not to come out here, Livy, not for anything.”

“I’m sorry. I was scared for you.” I cry into his chest.

“I’m okay. I can take care of myself, you know that.” After a kiss to my head, he holds me away from him. “I’m going to check on him. You stay back.”

I nod, and watch him cautiously make his way over to the still body. My heart hammers against my chest as he leans down and checks for a pulse.

“Shit,” he curses, hanging his head.

“Pap, what is it?”

I walk closer when he doesn’t answer.

“Just stay there, Livy, you don’t need to see this,” he orders, his voice gruff with emotion.

Something about his warning has apprehension prickling my skin. I ignore his protest and move in closer. A gasp escapes me when I get a look at the lifeless body on the ground—but it’s not a man, it’s a kid.

“Oh my God.” Bile rises in my throat, and my heart plummets as I kneel down beside the boy. “I know him.”

“You do?”

I nod, and swallow past the knot in my throat. “His name is Jamal Jenkins. He’s a student of mine,” I whisper, as a fresh wave of tears streak down my face.

The faint sound of sirens fill the air, but it does nothing to penetrate through my heartbreak that a boy has died.

A boy who I had high hopes for.

CHAPTER 2

Grayson

Two days later

I sit in the living room at the Bradshaw’s farmhouse and check my watch again, wondering what’s keeping the sheriff. He should have been here by now. I hope nothing went down at the press conference, but with all the tension floating around this town since the shooting, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“My granddaughter will be right down,” Walter Bradshaw says as he walks back into the room. He takes a seat across from me in the big leather recliner and lets out a weary breath, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. “Big win for the Falcons this past weekend, wasn’t it?” he remarks, bringing up the high school football team like most people do with me.

Usually, I try to steer clear of football talk, but I decide to appease him with the light topic since shit will be getting heavy here pretty quick. “They did. That new quarterback they have is a machine. I was just telling Coach Case I think they’ll win the state championship if the kid keeps this up.”

“Yep, he’s good, but not as good as you.”

It’s something I’m used to hearing. Being the star quarterback throughout high school and bringing home the state championship four years in a row was great—when I was back in high school. But those days are long gone. And I’m not a fan of rehashing my glory days.

Thankfully, I don’t have to respond because Olivia walks into the room.

“Hey, darlin’.” Walter stands and kisses her cheek. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever been formally introduced, but this here is Deputy Taylor. I believe he graduated a few years before you. I’m sure you remember his dad from when he was sheriff,” he adds, talking about my late father.

She gives me a small smile, extending her hand. “Yes, of course. Nice to meet you, I’m Olivia Bradshaw.”

I know exactly who she is, who wouldn’t? I might not have graduated with her, but the shy country girl, who always had her nose in a book, could never go unnoticed.

Not when they look like her.

Long, honey blonde hair and big doe eyes are anything but subtle, especially when they grace the face of an angel. However, I make no attempt to acknowledge that. Instead, I grasp her hand, instantly noticing how soft her skin is.

“Nice to officially meet you, Miss Bradshaw.”

“Please, call me Olivia, or Liv, or…yeah, if you prefer Miss Bradshaw that’s fine, too.” Her cheeks turn pink as she stammers, making me smirk.

“Or Livy,” Walter adds with a chuckle.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “No, Pap, that’s reserved strictly for you.”

“I’ll call you Liv then, if that’s okay?” I like the name. It suits her.

She clears her throat and nods. “Yes, Liv is just fine.”

There’s a pause, allowing me the opportunity to steer the conversation to where it needs to go. “I’m sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances.”

“Me, too,” she whispers, her big brown eyes flashing with pain.

“I hate to ask more questions but we want to make sure we have all the facts straight. Sheriff Dixon should be joining us soon, but in the meantime, do you mind if I run over some of them with you both?”

“Yes, of course.” She takes a seat on the couch, and Walter sits next to her instead of his recliner, wrapping his arm around her slender shoulders. It’s clear to see the man is very protective of her. As far as I know he’s the only family she has. Her parents died when she was young. Car crash, if I remember correctly.

I take my original spot on the love seat across from them and glance down at my notes. “You previously stated you knew the victim, is that correct?”

She visibly swallows, picking at the hem of her dress. Tears gather in her eyes but she manages to not let them fall. “Yes. He…Jamal was my student.”

“Did he ever threaten you, or give you any reason to think he would do something like this?”

She shakes her head, a lone tear trailing down her flushed cheek, but she quickly wipes it away. “No, he was a good kid. Always respectful, and never got into trouble. I did notice a subtle change in him the past few weeks, but never once did I think it would lead to something like this.”

“What do you mean by subtle change?”

“It was just little things. He started coming in late for class, which was unusual for him. He looked exhausted, like he’d been up all night. I asked him a few times if everything was okay and he assured me it was. I didn’t push for more, but I wish I would have now,” she says softly, guilt thick in her voice. Those big doe eyes lift to mine. “I don’t understand why he did it. We always got along. He had to have known this was my farm.”

“I’m sure he did. Everyone around here knows this is Walter’s land.”

“I know and that’s what’s most shocking to me. It doesn’t make any sense. We had a good relationship. I can’t see why he would want to hurt me or damage our property.”

“Maybe it had nothing to do with you.”

She catches on to what I’m thinking. “You think he’s responsible for the other break-ins that occurred, don’t you?”

In the last three months there have been several thefts in the area, mostly fertilizer from surrounding farms. The thieves use the anhydrous ammonia to manufacture meth. Something that was once only common in the big cities but now is beginning to trickle into small towns all across the country. Only recently have things escalated. The fires started a few weeks back, after we arrested one of the perpetrators. He’d dropped his wallet at the scene, leaving us with his student ID card, but unfortunately, he isn’t talking.

Thankfully, the fire that had been set to Cliff’s crop was quickly contained before the flames reached any remaining fertilizer. If it hadn’t been caught in time, the place would have been blown sky fucking high, and had deadly consequences.

We have a few suspects in mind but no solid evidence against any of them. However, now that Jamal Jenkins seems to be involved, his cousin Reggie West has now been bumped to the top of our list of suspects. Reggie has a record for drug trafficking and even spent some time behind bars. But since moving here, a couple of years ago, he’s been clean and making an honest living working construction for Security Builders.