by Addison Fox
Could still see Sabrina’s face, her eyes staring sightlessly back at him from the photo, a reminder of how poorly he’d failed her.
And how much work there was still to be done.
Although he’d worked blessedly few murders in his career, he’d had a few. Each time, he’d thought the same. What a shameful waste of a life.
He felt the same now, only along with it there was a small ember, growing day by day, burning slow and steady beneath his skin.
Who had done this?
Who felt they had a right to hurt these women, playing with them until fear must have been a frenzy in their blood?
No one had that right. He wouldn’t rest until the killer was found, and he’d use every means at his disposal to capture the cowardly bastard.
“Sheriff Colton.” The county supervisor Trey knew as Dave Olson extended his hand. “Good to see you again.”
“You as well.” Trey turned to the governor’s senior assistant, Steve Lucas. “Steve. I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.”
“Likewise. I’ve been following your career. The governor has, too. You have a unique constituent base and you’ve run it with ease, a deft hand and a fair amount of good humor, if the reports are true.”
“I try.”
“You do better than try, from all we’ve heard.” Steve waved a hand, but the casual motion was at odds with the tense set of his shoulders beneath an expensive blue suit. “Which only further reinforces why all this Avalanche Killer stuff is a bunch of nonsense.”
Trey recognized the campaign trail speech for what it was and decided the front lobby of his station wasn’t the best place to talk. His deputies were strong and loyal and avoided overt political sentiment most of the time, but no one wanted to hear their work so readily dismissed. “We’ve set up coffee in the main conference room. Why don’t you both join me there?”
Trey made a show of leading but put himself in front on purpose. He wanted to see both men’s faces when they first saw his boards. A few moments later, as they entered the room, he wasn’t disappointed. Steve’s polished smile fell, his eyes going wide at the prominently displayed photos.
The county supervisor looked no more comfortable, but he schooled his features, already having been present for the handling of the bodies and their removal off the mountain.
Steve spoke first, the initial shock fading as he moved closer to the boards. “These women? All were killed by the same person?”
“We believe so. There’s some concern about the sixth victim. Sabrina Gilford.” Trey clung to the use of her name, the lack of much else a continued challenge in their investigative work. Using her name, especially when he couldn’t for four of the six victims, kept them grounded. Focused.
And constantly reminded of the lives that were snuffed out. Lives belonging to real people with real dreams and real futures.
“Concern how?” Steve surged forward off the tabletop where he’d rested a hip.
“While the first four victims haven’t been positively identified, we believe the killer’s pattern has been to take tourists. The fifth woman, April Thomas, was identified because her mother pressed the issue repeatedly that someone search for her daughter. She believed April had come to Roaring Springs before she disappeared and once she heard of Sabrina Gilford’s disappearance she came here herself, seeking answers.”
And found a terrible one when the bodies were uncovered off the mountain.
“And the others?” Dave asked.
“We’ve scoured missing persons, widened the search nationally and have done our level best to collaborate with the FBI where we could. They’re not sharing much and we’re holding close to the vest as well, but I’m neither so shortsighted nor close-minded enough to ignore their vast resources. When they offered me access to their missing persons database, I jumped at it.”
“The Feds do want jurisdiction here. Technically they have it, too,” Steve said. Although the governor’s aide had regained his composure, nothing visible in his motives playing across his serene face, Trey wasn’t willing to take any chances.
He needed support on this and he wasn’t going to back down.
“I’m not trying to block them out, but they don’t know Bradford County like I do. Like my deputies do. Kicking us off this case would be a major mistake.”
“Whoa there, Sheriff. I’m not suggesting taking you off.”
“What are you suggesting?”
Steve leaned in, his focus absolute. “I’m sorry for these women. Deeply sorry. No one except maybe the governor wants the person who did this caught more than I do. But we have a state to run and tourism dollars to protect.”
“Yes, sir. I understand,” Trey said. He knew the way things worked—he’d run for office himself—but something in the response nagged at him. Was everything political?
At that thought, an image of Barton Evigan’s behavior on Tuesday night came flooding back in full force.
Of course everything was political. Anyone in public office had to understand that. And Trey knew it would be a poor time for him to get amnesia on that subject.
Seemingly satisfied by his answer—or lack of one—Steve resumed his seat on the table. His gaze didn’t so much as flick back over multiple boards but instead was firmly focused on Trey.
“You’re up for reelection yourself. I understand it’s turned messy?”
At Dan’s snort, Trey’s intended attempt to deflect the question vanished. “I have a verbose opponent.”
“The governor has had a few of those in his day.” Steve grinned. “I’d offer to help but you’re a Colton. I suspect you’ve got more than your fair share of that.”
“Actually—” Trey bit back his answer. He appreciated his family and the influence the Colton name wielded in this part of the country—hell, anywhere in the country—but it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Evigan had keyed in on his last name as his very first shot over the political bow.
And the whispers that had grown stronger and stronger since Evigan announced his candidacy had changed, too. They now carried a decided bent toward the idea that the Coltons were too powerful in Bradford County. So powerful, in fact, that his name was the reason Trey even had the job in the first place. A puppet in a position of power to turn a blind eye to his family’s business empire.
It bugged him. No, Trey amended. He was irate. He worked hard for his job and his constituents. If it were only a matter of gossip he’d see past it. He was used to people’s small-minded chatter and had long since stopped worrying about it. But when that chatter turned to questions about his job qualification or his integrity, well, damn it, he had a right to be upset. He worked hard at both and it was infuriating to have that questioned.
“My family is large and opinionated, sir. I do my best to ensure those opinions stay at family gatherings and out of my office.”
“Wise choice.”
Steve glanced around before leaning in. “You’re unmarried, too, aren’t you?”
Sheesh, what was this guy, his mother?
“I work pretty much 24/7. Not a lot of time for a social life.”
“See, here’s the thing.” Steve scratched at his chin before sticking it out as if he were about to impart serious words of wisdom. “Voters love that idea in theory, a tireless public servant working on their behalf. But what they really love is a good family man. Add in a real sappy love story and they eat that up, too. Your opponent, now, he’s married.”
“Yes, he is.”
Without even trying too hard, an image of Barton Evigan’s wife came clearly to mind. The woman was as small and unobtrusive and on the few occasions he’d been in her presence Trey had observed her trying to shrink even more.
Aisha had mentioned the same the other night at his parents’ house, when their talk had shifted from the outrageously delicious cobble
r his mother had made and beelined straight back to the town hall meeting. Aisha hadn’t outright said the words but he didn’t miss her concern that the woman was at risk of abuse, if not currently then at some point in the future, and Trey was hard-pressed to disagree.
It was a leap to think the man an abuser—and a mighty large one—but something about Barton Evigan didn’t sit well with him.
“You should get yourself a wife. It’d make this whole business easier. Distract attention and give you a solid, upstanding woman by your side each time that blowhard started talking.”
“I appreciate your suggestion sir, but—” Trey stilled, the words sinking in. “A wife?”
“Sure.” Steve shrugged. “You’ve got the looks and the demeanor for the job. Add in the family man angle and you’re golden.”
“But I—” Trey glanced over at Dan but the man’s gaze had shifted determinedly back to the images posted around the room, as if staring at six dead women was preferable to discussing Trey’s love life.
Or lack thereof.
“Look, Steve. I appreciate the advice. Really I do.”
The governor’s errand boy steamrolled over Trey’s comments as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re more than qualified. The governor is a smart man and rests easy knowing Bradford County’s in your capable hands. Get yourself a wife, or a fiancée at least, and get through the reelection season. After things die down, go back to being footloose and fancy free if you want.”
Steve glanced around, despite the closed door, before he lowered his voice. “Hell, keep her and get a side piece. Happens all the time. Just put on the family front for the voters. It’ll do a world of good to help your chances.”
Trey didn’t catch much else, but shifted into autopilot to give his briefing—the presumed reason for the visit. The prep work he and Daria had done the night before worked in his favor and he got through the details on what they knew of the killings, their working theories and the overall progress from the ME’s office on the four as-yet-unidentified bodies from the grave site. In less than a half hour it was over and in another ten minutes, after final pleasantries over a doughnut, Trey saw the two men out.
He walked back to his office, still shaking his head as he closed the door. He strolled to the sideboard for another doughnut, then followed the boards, one by one, using the mix of sugar and grease to fortify himself. The terrible images should have cut through his thoughts but he found himself practically staring through them as the unsettling conversation rolled through his mind on a loop.
Married? With a side piece? Putting on the front of a happy, devoted family man? What parallel universe had he walked into that morning? Worse, had it become 1850? Because a huge part of him felt like he’d just been instructed to hunt up a mail-order bride out here in the Wild, Wild West.
Who the hell would he marry anyway?
He hadn’t lied about his single status. He’d been working so much the last date he’d had was four—well, hell, it was six—months ago. It hadn’t ended very well, either, with him running off to an emergency over at The Lodge. It was a party gone wild and he could have sent out a deputy to handle the matter, but at the chance to escape the date he’d jumped at the chance.
What did that say about him?
Trey walked back to refill his coffee, his phone going off in his pocket.
Aisha’s text filled the screen.
How’d it go?
He typed out a quick response. You mean the sneak attack straight from the governor’s office?
He saw the three dots for the briefest of moments before Aisha’s reply came winging back. No freaking way!
Yep. Gov’s head lackey. All neat and refined in his pressed blue suit. He looked like a game show host. Man was a piece of work.
Aisha shot him a few laughing emojis before she added another thought. What did he actually want? An update on the Avalanche Killer?
Trey considered how to play it. Even though it was Aisha and he rarely gave much consideration to anything he typed or talked to her about, it was embarrassing to realize just how long it had been since he’d gone on a date.
Would she think less of him?
She was attractive and successful. Although they avoided the topic for some strange reason, he expected she was out dating and painting the town red every chance she got.
Although...when was the last time she’d mentioned a date?
You there?
Sorry. Just busy. Why did he lie? Trey wondered. Since he’d already hit Send, he quickly tried to make up for the unsettling sensation of hiding something from her.
You up for dinner tonight? I have a rare free one and am craving enchiladas. I’ll give details then.
She shot back a series of tacos interspersed with more smiley face emojis, which he would have interpreted as a yes for dinner even without her response. Yes!!!!!!
See you at six at Maggie’s Tortilla House.
Later, and then she included an alligator emoji.
Once again, Trey was forced to admit the woman the world saw as intense and serious just wasn’t with him. She used weird smiley faces no one else ever did and had a bizarre fondness for the gator emoji. And she actually ate in front of him.
That woman back in April—no, it was February—had yelled at their waitress for bringing bread. Who did that?
Not Aisha. She kicked ass each morning at her kickboxing gym. She continued kicking it all day when it came to her patients and their welfare. And then she did it again when it came to enjoying herself.
As if Steve still sat in Trey’s office, whispering from the corner, his unsolicited advice seemed to swirl through the room.
You should get yourself a wife. It’d make this whole business easier.
Where had that come from?
Especially with his thoughts full of Aisha.
She was a strong, independent woman, not some small, shy mouse of a human who couldn’t stand up for herself. Or worse, who’d been pushed down so badly she had no idea which way was up. And she certainly wasn’t the type of woman to agree to a pretend engagement.
Engagement? With Aisha?
That was what he’d taken away from his morning visitors?
Since Steve’s visit had obviously shaken him more than he realized, Trey figured he was due for a change of pace. His early arrival to work ensured he had a rare free hour and he was going to put it to good use downstairs in the gym. A rotation through the speed bag, the weights and a bit of cardio would go a long way toward settling his thoughts.
He needed it, Trey thought as he grabbed his gym bag from the floor beneath his desk. Because for the briefest of moments, he’d actually considered asking Aisha Allen if she wanted to be his pretend fiancée.
Chapter 4
Aisha inhaled the warm scents of flour tortillas and gooey cheese and let out her first easy breath of the day. She’d waited all day for this moment and she was going to take a few seconds to enjoy it.
She’d earned it.
A patient she’d been working with for the past five months—and who she’d believed was improving—had a significant setback that morning. It had been a difficult session, followed by a discussion with the man’s wife about possible treatment options that went beyond office visits. It had been emotional and painful and the sort of experience she was grateful she didn’t have often.
And then her day had gone even further downhill after that.
The press had somehow glommed onto her comments from Tuesday night at the county meeting and had executed a surprise attack with an office visit at lunch. She was so incensed by their arrival and their insistence she give a quote about the state of the investigation that she finally had to have her assistant call the Roaring Springs PD out to help deal with the intruders.
Since that had stretched past lunch, it had interfered with a patient due into
her office, and the sight of the police had sent her into a tailspin. It had taken nearly their entire hour to calm the woman down to the point of coherency, and after that Aisha had been tempted to cancel the rest of her appointments for the day.
So yeah, she thought to herself as Trey handed her the drink menu from the center of the table. She’d earned her sangria swirl margarita. Maybe even a second. And the ginormous plate of enchiladas that she’d already selected off the dinner menu, too.
“Tough day?” Trey’s question had her eyes popping open but it was the sweet, understanding look that softened the subtle lines around his thick-lashed eyes that caught her off guard.
It was those moments—those quick little shots of intimacy—that never failed to catch her off guard. He saw her. It was...well, something she’d do better not to dwell on.
Resolutely ignoring that quick shot of attraction, she shared what she could. “I’ve had better. But before I bore you with the nonconfidential pieces I can share, I want to hear about your morning. You had a rather impressive visitor.”
“The governor’s lackey hardly rates as impressive.”
“Well,” Aisha pointed out as she reached for a chip from the basket at the center of the table, “it wasn’t the governor. When he starts showing up, you know you have a real problem.”
“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Trey said as he moved the menus to give the waiter room to set down their drinks.
“Bright-side Allen. That’s my name, sunshine’s my game.”
The joke had him smiling a little bit, but it couldn’t penetrate the heavy pall that seemed to weigh over him. They’d met at her office in Roaring Springs, then walked through downtown toward the southern end of the main drag. The upper end was reserved for any number of high-end shops and elite restaurants, but Aisha preferred the hipper and more eclectic choices at the south end. Besides, it was a pretty summer night to walk and she was going to need every step she could find after her enchilada fest wrapped up.
She picked up her margarita and considered a new tack. The lighthearted joking wasn’t working. And she knew that stubborn, settled look on his handsome face. Left to his own devices, he’d brood into his beer for the next two hours.