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vending machine. A well-hidden slot in the windmill received payment.
    “Cripes, Gran, this whole operation couldn’t have been very productive if that’s the only way they sold drugs.” I finger-mopped a few beads of juice running down the newspaper. “How could these guys get rich with such a method? What prevented local users from just walking away with the stuff—or even with the Dutch boy like Evan did?”
    “You’re thinking like a criminal.” Gran snorted as she rolled plum-sized balls of cookie dough between her palms, lining them up on cookie sheets. “I remember Koster’s wife, Lydia. She sold farm produce and fresh eggs for many years, right out of the stone barn. They didn’t have kids, but I remember their nephews helped on the farm. None of those boys seemed very bright to me.” After flattening the cookies and sprinkling them with cinnamon sugar, she shoved two sheets in the oven and wiped her hands on her apron. “I just hope old Tom wasn’t involved. Even knowing what was going on is as good as abetting the crime.”
    I rolled my eyes. “You’re preaching to the choir, Gran. We’ve been abetting Evan for years.”
    “Well, that’s different.”
    She gave me a head-tilting, condescending look that made me think of Dallas. I truly missed him, and wondered if his absence was his way of protecting us—or himself. Captain Billington might tweak a few rules and look away where Evan’s “thefts” were concerned, but a rookie cop had to prove himself trustworthy and able to uphold the law on a shorter leash. I took my cell phone and the stained newspaper out to the porch to read the whole story one more time.
    When I heard the roar of a motorcycle, I felt my stomach lurch.
    He set the kickstand and sauntered up our walk—in full uniform. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but his mouth was grim when he noticed me shrinking in the shadows of the porch. He leaned against a post, arms and legs crossed, surveying me.
    With a deep sigh, I set aside the paper and rose to face him, chin up. “So, did you come to arrest me?” I didn’t even try to disguise my sarcastic tone.
    His mouth twinged, but he unhooked the cuffs at his belt and clicked them over my wrists. “Yes, ma’am, I’ve come to finish the job.”
    I couldn’t tell if he was serious. My laugh sounded like a seal barking. “And what is the charge?”
    “Where do I start?” Frowning, he scratched his head. “Besides the obvious 10-99, on surveillance duty one night last week I answered a 10-14, which is a prowler report that turned into a 10-37, which means I followed a suspicious vehicle, which turned into a 10-80 for a pursuit in progress. ”
    I gaped, unable to read his eyes through the dark glasses. “That was you following me?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I can read license plates. And there aren’t many pea green beetles in the Falls.”
    I poked my tongue into my cheek. “So you led me on, took me on a date just to get to the…the evidence in my trunk.”
    He rubbed his neck, looking away. “We knew what was in the Dutch boy. We didn’t know your brother took it until you showed up with it at the Fest.”
    My throat was closing. I straightened my shoulders and swallowed hard. “I was trying to return it after Gran found it in Evan’s room. I didn’t know it had drugs inside until the night you followed me.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He lowered his head to peer at me over the top of his sunglasses.
    “Stop calling me that! Pulse throbbed in my temple as I fought back unwelcome tears. I snapped, “For God’s sake, you…we…kissed—more than once.” My voice rose. “You even called me Peaches, you…you smooth-talkin’ hoodwinker.” I slapped his face awkwardly, pinching my wrists from the confining handcuffs.
    His laugh sounded hollow as he forced me back against the house, pinning my hands high above my head. “Assaulting an officer.” He clicked his tongue. “The charges are adding up.”
    Widening his stance put