The Colton Sheriff. Addison Fox
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for the job.
He hated the fact that Barton Evigan had gotten under his skin at Tuesday evening’s meeting. From the moment he’d seen the bastard sitting there, all high and mighty and devious in his seat, Trey had known there’d be trouble. He wanted to ignore it. He was good at ignoring bullies and had done so most of his life.
But this was different.
The tone and tenor were the same, but the potential outcome had more far-reaching consequences. If he lost the sheriff’s position in the November election to Evigan, his replacement would take Bradford County down a dark road. Trey knew it in his gut and was only reminded of that fact each and every time he laid eyes on his opponent.
Tuesday night had been a perfect example.
“Sheriff Colton.” At the knock on his door he looked up to find Winnie Han, their dispatcher and fill-in front desk clerk during the summer months when vacations were in full swing. Although Trey had more than a few deputies offer to give up their vacations until the Avalanche Killer situation closed, Trey wanted to avoid that if possible. Tension was high and the scrutiny on their work was intense. A much-needed and well-deserved vacation was in order for everyone who had one coming their way. “The county supervisor is here.”
Winnie waited a beat before continuing. “And the private secretary to the governor.”
Well, hell and damn. A surprise attack.
Trey nodded. “Thanks, Winnie. I’ll come back with you and greet them myself.”
“Bruce Patrillo picked up doughnuts and boxed coffee on his way in.”
“Let’s make sure he expenses that,” Trey added, grateful for the support of his team. Even more grateful they understood the gravitas now that the governor had sent his highest-ranking lackey along for the ride.
Trey adjusted his tie, confirming the Windsor knot was in place just as he’d left it, and followed Winnie out of his office. They’d use the main conference room, transformed after his and Aisha’s review of the data on Monday night. He and Daria had used originals of the copies he’d shared with Aisha, posting them all on individual corkboards, lined up in the order each woman was identified by her time of death. Trey had looked at those boards so many times he could see them in his mind’s eye.
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