11
The next morning, Daniel drove me to work – partially because it was below freezing and scooting through icy streets didn’t sound wise and partially because Tuck had asked him to. Apparently, the sheriff was a bit nervous that I might be the killer’s next target since, apparently, I might know too much. My argument that he, too, “knew too much,” if that was the case, fell on deaf ears, though, and I was not to be alone.
I wasn’t thrilled about being a potential target, but I appreciated the company, especially that of a handsome mechanic who had great taste in women. “Thanks for the lift, Handsome,” I said as Daniel pulled up to the curb in front of the store. “I’ll see you at lunch?”
“You are impossible, Harvey Beckett. Did you think I would drive you here only to let two dogs drag
