“The police chief, on the front porch, in a towel!” Clay crowed it as if he’d just won a game of Clue when he answered the door.
“Shut up,” Ethan groused, shouldering him aside so he could bring in his guitar.
“Oh no. I gotta know how you ended up mostly naked on Miranda’s front porch just as one of the Casserole Patrol was going by. I deserve that much explanation since you’re late.”
Ethan set his guitar case on the sofa. “That’s actually related to why I was late.” He unpacked his Taylor and began checking the tuning as he explained about the gutted raccoon.
Clay’s amusement faded. “Why the hell would somebody do that?”
“I don’t know. Just like I don’t know why somebody would s***h all four of her tires.”
“Jesus, when did that happen?”
“Night of the bonfire. They may not be relate
