Pay the Price (Harmony Grove Book 3) Carol Post (poetry books to read txt) 📖

easier to face with an adequate amount of caffeine chugging through her veins.

After finishing her breakfast and coffee over the local news, she pulled up the non-emergency number for the Harmony Grove Police. Then she stared at her phone, lower lip trapped between her teeth. At one time, local law enforcement had shown up there on a regular basis. None of the visits had been pleasant.

This was different. She was on the right side of the law—victim rather than perpetrator. Besides, maybe they wouldn’t remember her. After all, she hadn’t had any dealings with them for eight years.

No, their memories weren’t that short. Especially Chief Branch’s. He’d likely remember every encounter with her all the way to the grave.

She pressed the call icon then relayed her information to the dispatcher. When she answered the door ten minutes later, two uniformed police officers stood on the small porch. She heaved a sigh. Chief Branch hadn’t changed. Well, he’d changed, but in ways that just made him more…Branch. His paunch was bigger, his hair thinner, his condescending glance more obvious, and when she invited them in, his swagger was more pronounced than it had been eight years earlier.

The other cop was young, early to mid-twenties, with cornflower blue eyes and dark brown hair that curled out from under his cap. He removed the cap, held it to his chest and nodded a greeting, accompanied by a familiar friendly smile.

“Alan?”

“Yep, it’s me, in the flesh.”

When she’d left eight years ago, he’d been a shy, scrawny fourteen-year-old who always had his nose in a book. She figured by now he’d be starting his doctorate, well on his way toward becoming a nuclear physicist or something equally brainy. Law enforcement was the last field she would have chosen for him.

He looked the part, though. There was no longer anything shy or scrawny about him. Somewhere during his high school and college years, he’d gained about six inches in height and an impressive amount in mass. The confidence he exuded would make people happy to place their safety in his hands. Especially some of the younger women of Harmony Grove.

“The prodigal has returned.”

Chief Branch’s sarcastic tone doused some of her pleasure at seeing Alan again. Alan had always been nice. Chief Branch hadn’t. He’d ridden her hard, always watching for the slightest misstep, then had taken devious delight in throwing on the handcuffs and hauling her in.

She tried to match his look of disdain. “Don’t worry. I’m not staying.”

“Good. It’s been nice and peaceful here with you gone.”

She turned away and moved farther into the room. Branch still saw her as the troubled teen with a mega-sized chip on her shoulder. She wasn’t that person anymore. Maybe the chip was still there. But it was a lot smaller. She’d grown up, learned some responsibility and taken charge of her life.

The people of Harmony Grove wouldn’t see it that way, though. In their eyes, she’d always be trouble, unless she spent a lot of time proving otherwise. And that wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t be here long enough.

Branch looked around the room. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I arrived early this morning to find the whole house ransacked. I haven’t seen any signs of forced entry.” They’d probably come in the same way she had, through the slider. Anywhere else, there’d be proof.

Branch eyed her suspiciously. “How did you get in? Never mind, you’re an old pro at breaking and entering.”

She bristled at the condescending tone. That wasn’t fair. Her own house didn’t count. And she’d broken into someone else’s only twice. She hadn’t stolen anything either time. That hadn’t been the reason she’d done it. It had been to prove she could. She’d never been able to back down from a dare.

Alan stepped forward before she could respond. “Why don’t I go ahead and see if I can lift some prints.”

“That sounds good.” She’d deal with Alan and do her best to ignore Branch. “This room’s not bad.” Except for the throw pillows littering the floor and some haphazard piles of DVDs that had been pulled from the entertainment center shelves, the area looked like any other living room on the street. That was where she’d slept, with two of the pillows tucked under her head.

After retrieving a fingerprint kit and a pair of latex gloves from the cruiser, Alan dusted the entertainment center for prints then moved down the hall. When he’d finished doorways, doorknobs and dressers in the first bedroom, he moved into the master bedroom. Branch followed, watching Alan but not doing much himself. That was probably typical. He didn’t look to be in good enough shape to do anything but supervise. The grunt work was probably beneath him, anyway.

Alan swiveled his head toward her. “This might have been what they were looking for.”

She walked over to where he knelt in the corner. A monitor, keyboard and mouse sat atop a small desk, the tower on the floor next to it. Someone had removed the tower’s cover. She hadn’t noticed it before. Of course, she’d only given the room a cursory glance before heading out to pick up breakfast.

He turned back to his work and began brushing fine powder over the cover. “The hard drive is missing.”

She crossed her arms. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just take the computer?”

“Not necessarily. Someone who knows what they’re doing can have the drive removed in a minute or so. Keeping it hidden in a coat pocket is a lot less conspicuous than walking out with the entire tower.”

That made sense. Either way, someone must have been awfully interested in something Prissy had. A photo, maybe? Some kind of incriminating evidence? Sensitive information?

When Alan finished his work on Prissy’s computer, he picked up a small leather bag that was peeking out from the contents of the dresser drawers. A set of keys was clipped to the D-ring that secured one end of the strap. He peered inside. “Her purse is empty.”

He fished through the items on