The Colton Sheriff. Addison Fox
shot back.
“Or the skewed reality we all now live with.”
“Well, it’s a reality that sucks.”
A hard laugh escaped his chest. “That it does.”
And just like that, his best friend in the world managed to make him laugh and make the whole situation seem a little less dire.
People thought she was so serious, those dark brown eyes always focused a few feet beyond everyone else. He’d heard others call her aloof but he knew her to be anything but. Aisha Allen was an outstanding psychologist and a passionate advocate for her clients, always determined to find treatments to help them cope with their inner pain and struggles.
She was also his oldest friend in the world.
When they were together, he saw her less serious side. Silly, even, when she got going doing an imitation of one of his wacky Colton relatives or teasing him about a long-forgotten memory of one of the millions they’d shared together. And he truly appreciated her support during this whole Avalanche Killer crisis, as well as throughout the subsequent disappearance of his cousin Skye.
However, even with that support, he was in the midst of a firefight. That bastard Barton Evigan was a problem. Trey didn’t think himself above an opponent—the exact opposite actually. The people of Bradford County deserved a slate of qualified candidates for the role of sheriff. Just because he wanted the job didn’t mean he deserved it on a shoo-in.
But Evigan was something else. The man had little to no actual experience and when questioned on that fact he deflected and diverted the question, immediately going on the offensive on Trey’s record. Trey and his team had closed hundreds of cases over the past three and a half years since taking on the role of sheriff. A fact that was increasingly forgotten in the constant attention over a serial killer.
Which meant he had to work harder. Those poor women discovered on the side of a mountain deserved only his best, no matter what it took. Their focused search for his cousin, Skye, required the same.
Turning toward Aisha again, he tapped the closest photo. “Okay. Walk me through it again. What do we know from the bodies?”
“Assuming this was his only burial site, and that’s a mighty large if, the time between kills was significant. Nearly five years between the first two. Then several years between two, three and four.”
“And after?” he prodded.
“That’s where things pick up. Either the killer had a trigger of some sort or wasn’t able to slake his thirst.”
“Him?” Trey homed in.
“Figure of speech. Serial killing is predominantly done by males and should be your prioritization on suspects. But for the purposes of speaking to the press, no gender should be used.”
Trey didn’t miss the light wash of goose bumps that rose up over her dark skin. He laid a hand there, covering her forearm. “We don’t have to do this now. It’s late and this is hardly a topic that ensures a good night’s sleep.”
“We owe it to those women, Trey. And we owe it to Skye.”
“But—”
She laid a hand over his. “I’m fine. Let’s just push through.”
She was fine, of that he had no doubt. The woman understood the human psyche in ways he couldn’t fathom. A few summers back he caught her leisure-reading a biography of Jack the Ripper and when asked about it, she said the man fascinated her. That she enjoyed probing into the mind and trying to understand the mysteries there.
While he enjoyed it in his fiction, he wasn’t all that keen on having it in his real life.
Which made his next thought that much harder to say, yet somehow safe when voiced in a room with only his best friend for company. “Would you think less of me if I said I wasn’t fine?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not.” He pushed back his chair, the heavy scrape of metal legs over the linoleum tile a scratchy counterpoint to the drumming in his chest. “I want to be okay but all I can think about are those women. Worse, then I start imagining my cousin and what could have happened to her.”
Trey deliberately tamped down on that train of thought. They were all desperate to find Skye, but also determined to stay focused on the positive. She was missing but that didn’t mean she’d become the target of a serial killer. They had to believe her disappearance was the work of some other force. Something wild and crazy, just like Skye.
“I know.” Aisha nodded. “I know it’s hard.”
“I look around here and see all the beauty and wildness of Colorado. The mountains and the trees and all the wide-open spaces. I see it as a place to breathe. To find myself. And all those women found was death. Quite brutally, too, based on the forensics.”
“They did.” Aisha picked up the various photos and turned them over. “Classic serial killer behaviors of dominance and a deep desire to hurt another. To not only kill but to torture before doing so.”
“A coward who gets off on causing fear.”
“Yes,” she confirmed.
“Right here. Under our noses.”
He let out a sigh, his gaze drifting once more over the box of pizza. The hunger that had carried him into the room had vanished and now he was left with a strange emptiness roiling in his gut in its place.
All of it had happened right under his nose. And if he didn’t get a handle on it, it was going to happen again. Of that he had no doubt.
Aisha settled herself in the last row of the public meeting room at the back of the Bradford County Community Center. As county seat, Roaring Springs had a number of buildings devoted to local government matters, and this one saw regular use. Public hearings, voting and a host of other issues were considered, discussed and decided inside these four walls.
She’d never been a particularly large joiner, but she’d discovered her interest in public discussion once Trey had taken on his job as sheriff. What had begun as support of her best friend remained that way, but it had given her new perspective into the workings of local government. Sometimes mundane and often quite functional, Aisha had to admit it was never boring. And it gave continued perspective on her life’s work: human nature in all its glory.
Tonight’s agenda was an open discussion of the Avalanche Killer’s crimes and proposed increases in local law enforcement. Which was a bit of a joke since the FBI had already descended en masse to deal with the situation. This was their domain, and even though bodies hadn’t been found across multiple states, the Feds weren’t leaving this one alone.
Still, Aisha knew this hearing was a prime opportunity for Trey to make his authority clear to their citizenry. She saw several others scattered around the room, there to give him the additional support of friendly faces. His parents, Calvin and Audrey, sat in the middle toward the front. Close enough to be supportive but far enough away to give him space. His trusted deputy, Daria Bloom, was in the front row. She sat tall and straight in her seat, her uniform as immaculately pressed at six o’clock at night as it no doubt had been that morning.
Aisha continued her perusal. She eyed a few more people scattered around the room, including several Coltons, a few resort employees from The Lodge as well as the local hotel and spa, The Chateau, and a guy Trey had already pointed out to her as FBI, Agent Stefan Roberts.
She’d nearly turned her attention back to the front when her gaze alighted on the doorway and the last-minute entrant to the meeting.
Barton Evigan.
He strode in as if he owned the place, a smirk on his face. It