Page 68 of Breathe Me In

“You mean the animal rights group?” I played along. “If you’re asking if I’m worried about one of those rodents keeling over, don’t be. They’re like a parasite—they never friggin’ leave.”

He smiled, and I knew I had him. “Great answer.” He clicked away on the keyboard. “I do have some butterfly root moss that shipped in last month. Hmm, yup, looks like I have some left out back.”

“How much do you normally get with each shipment?” I asked casually. “Is there a high demand for it here in Sheffield? I mean, how many raccoons are there?” I laughed.

“No, actually”—he chuckled—“seems it’s become quite popular lately. The last guy who asked me to get it in for him took the first bunch but never came back in for the rest. No skin off my nose—he paid up front. So, you’re in luck.”

“Lucky me.” I grinned as I tried not to show I was excited by what he’d just said. “Would it be too much to ask for the names of the people who ordered it?” His mouth dipped, and I quickly recovered. “It’s just such a different plant that maybe I could learn from them how they use it. God love my sister, but she also suggested setting up beer cans with pennies inside around my property. With my luck, I’d just have kids knocking them down to swipe them all.” I laughed and touched his arm and was happy when his smile returned. “Come on, it’d sure be helpful. Can you tell me?”

“By law, no.” He looked at my hand, still on his arm, and casually turned the screen a little toward me. “Just give me a moment and I’ll grab what’s left.”

“Thanks.” I waited for him to leave, then focused on the spreadsheet on the screen.

“You can’t do that,” Brad muttered as if it were a knee-jerk reaction. “You don’t have a warrant.”

“Insert Bree.” I grinned.

“Hurry,” Brad warned as he watched the door.

“No.” I tapped away on the search bar. I went for sarcasm as I ran my finger down the list of at least fifteen names. “I plan on taking my sweet time so that he can catch me. John Quinn, Ross Smith, Peter Fredericks, Oscar Moore, Brian Lipton”—then my heart stopped as I came to Timothy Ford.

“Hello, there.” I quietly whistled, and my eyes went to Brad’s.

“What?”

“One sec.” There was a notes section. I quickly clicked on the drop-down menu.

He’d ordered a half pound of butterfly root moss two weeks before the first murder, and the shipment arrived four days before the day Shelly White was killed. He’d paid in cash and had rushed delivery. Two asterisks were at the bottom with a note that read “strange.” I quickly hit print. I grabbed the sheet as it exited the printer and shoved it into my pocket. I clicked back to the original screen as I heard him coming back. I didn’t want to take any chances.

The store clerk set the box down on the counter and opened the lid. “This is all I have left—it’s fifty even.” I handed him my card, and as he ran it, he took note of my name. “Bree Jaminson, sounds like a country singer.”

I tossed my head back and laughed. “If only I had a voice, maybe I could give up my day job.”

He chuckled and closed the box. “I’m supposed to warn you, this stuff is just for planting. It’s not supposed to be used for anything else.” He eyed me and shrugged. “I have to say that,” he repeated. “The less you touch it, the better.” He lowered his voice at that part and winked.

I worked up the nerve to pick up the bag and met Brad at the door.

“Oh, and miss?”

I turned to look his way. “Yeah?”

“You should wear gloves. That stuff’ll stain your hands like you just strangled Kermit the Frog.”

“Gloves it is.” I stepped outside, and Brad took the bag and set it safely in a box in his truck.

We drove around the corner and stopped next to a Jack in the Box food joint. I handed Brad the paper to show that Timothy Ford Jr.’s name was there. “He’s guilty. I just know it.”

“You were incredible! Great work, Bree.” Brad wrapped me in a hug, and we both stilled as we felt that familiar crackle of energy between us. I slowly leaned back and slid my hands over his shoulders and down his arms, completely engulfed in his scent. He turned his head into me and brushed his lips by my jawbone as he pulled back. He let out a frustrated sigh, and I blinked away all the delicious thoughts that came with Brad Stone.

“Now.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to find my voice. “We just need to find the son of a bitch and hope he hasn’t skipped town.”

“Yeah.” He leaned back and mouthed something silently. Then he said aloud, “Let’s go tell Cap.” We headed for the station.

“I knew it. I knew you two would figure this nightmare out!” Cap was beside himself that we had something to bring to the higher-ups. “And Bree, great job on getting the list.”

“I appreciate that Brad let me take lead when he saw the guy wouldn’t respond well to the badge.”

“That was all Bree.” Brad grinned. “Hey, Cap, you should consider bringing her on full-time—we could sure use someone with her talents.” I raised a brow at him, but he wouldn’t look over at me. “Who can step over the line for the right reasons.”