Free Tristan (The Kendall Family #1) by Randi Everheart Page B

while back.”
    “Cousin Ryan? I might need more than a deputy.” Only after saying it did Tristan realize he didn’t know how a deputy differed from a sheriff. The last he’d heard, Ryan was part of the Comus police department, which wasn’t big. It wouldn’t have taken long to move up to sheriff, not that Tristan had given Ryan’s career much thought, having assumed he’d long since moved on to something else.
    Breaking into Tristan’s thoughts, Quinn said, “He is the sheriff.”
    “Really? Since when?”
    “Year ago or so. You need his number?”
    “Yeah.”
    Quinn rattled it off, and they made plans to meet at Connor’s later so Tristan could return Connor’s BMW and borrow one of Quinn’s cars instead. Then Tristan called his cousin, learning that the old sheriff had retired and recommended Ryan to take over. This wasn’t the life Ryan planned, but he’d gotten used to looking after all the people he’d grown up around. Being known, liked, and respected had given him a feeling of belonging and happiness that he hadn’t expected. There were worse things than being content, even if the pay wasn’t what he could earn in other fields.
    Ryan wasn’t that surprised by the motorcycle theft and came over within an hour, finding a freshly showered couple inviting him inside via the front door. Tristan wore his own shirt and jeans once again, but without clean underwear to put on, he’d just gone commando instead, to Victoria’s approval. She’d donned a rose-colored spring dress and high heels that made Tristan feel like he was losing his mind.
    “Hey, cousin, looking good in the uniform,” said Tristan, giving Ryan a hug.
    Sheriff Ryan stood a lean six feet four, broad-shouldered with muscles everywhere under the brown uniform. Wavy brown hair brushed his ears. He had a tattoo of a dagger on one forearm, polished black shoes, and an array of items on his black belt, including pepper spray, a gun, and handcuffs. Steel-blue eyes shone with inner light as he hugged Tristan and gazed at Victoria in appreciation.
    In a commanding voice, Ryan said, “Been a long time, buddy. How have you been?”
    Tristan invited him in. They spent five minutes catching up at the kitchen table before getting down to business, starting with the bike’s description and the last time they’d seen it. Ryan radioed the details to his office and then offered some information of his own.
    “There’ve been a lot of stolen bikes in the last few years,” observed Ryan. “I have a suspicion that there’s a stolen parts ring because the motorcycles haven’t been turning up.”
    Tristan asked, “Do stolen bikes typically remain missing? Not on the radar?”
    “Sort of. I mean, people are just riding stolen ones around, usually with stolen tags, but there’s been less chatter about unregistered bikes being found than we’d suspect.”
    “Chatter? We?”
    Ryan smiled. “State police. Got lots of friends there, and the rise in stolen bikes has been mostly here in Montgomery County, some up in Frederick. So they filled me in, partly because this isn’t the first one I’ve reported.”
    Victoria asked, “Really? How many?”
    Ryan answered, “Six in the last year just in my jurisdiction.”
    Tristan’s eyes widened. Comus was a small town. “Are you serious? How many outside of it?”
    “Last year there were over two thousand stolen in Maryland, usually in cities, of course, but there’s been a big increase in our local area here for some reason.”
    Victoria frowned. “I wish I’d known that. I’ve been leaving my bike parked in neutral in front of my job at the strip mall.”
    Ryan said, “Well that’s a fairly public street for Comus, so stealing it would’ve been a little risky, not that it couldn’t be done.”
    “So have any of these bikes been recovered?” Tristan asked. “Should I get my hopes up?”
    “Last year about five hundred were, so the odds aren’t in your favor, but you never know. Was