He winked as he opened his office door and gestured me inside. “What can I say? I’m an overachiever.”
Without waiting for an invitation, I made myself comfortable in one of the guest chairs. Once he’d closed the door behind him, he slid the box onto his desk and took a seat behind it.
“So…what’s new?” I asked conversationally, like we were old pals catching up. Like I wasn’t the sister of a missing woman his department was in charge of locating.
The sheriff chuckled. “Well, in regard to your sister’s case, we’re at a bit of a standstill at the moment.”
“It’s been over a month,” I blurted. “Surely you havesomesort of lead.”
He regarded me curiously. “You’re aware the first forty-eight hours in a missing persons case are the most crucial, correct?” I nodded. “We weren’t afforded the luxury of having those hours to work with. We weren’t made aware that Miss Lindsey was missing until over seventy-two hours later.”
I didn’t like his tone—the insinuation in it. “And you’re saying that’smyfault?”
“I’m just saying, had she been reported missing sooner?—”
Before he could utter another word to drive my irritation higher, I rose from my seat and cut him off with two words. “Fuck you.”
There was absolutely no way I was going to sit there and listen to that bullshit.
Howdarehe accuse me of being the reason my sister was still missing?
I hadn’t called right away because I’d been hoping my intuition had been wrong. That she’d simply taken off on her own for a few days and would be in touch when she returned to civilization.
What the fuck kind of place was this, blaming the family of a victim for her disappearance?
As I stormed away, I was even more glad I’d made copies of the journals. With the accusation he’d thrown at me, I didn’t have high hopes his department was taking this case seriously—or that they’d ever locate my sister.
The thought was a punch to the gut, and by the time I stumbled out of the station and into the broad June daylight, I was gasping for air—bent over, hands on my knees, chest heaving as I attempted to suck in a full breath. My vision darkened at the edges, a wave of dizziness crashing over me and sending me staggering sideways.
“Hey, hey,” someone said softly, the voice belonging to a woman, accompanied by warm, gentle hands grasping my shoulders, steadying me and directing me to sit down. “It’s okay. Head between your knees and breathe with me. In, two, three, four. Hold.” The woman rubbed soothing circles on my back, and I struggled to follow her directions. “Out, two, three, four. Good, good. And again.”
We ran through the exercise three more times before my heart rate finally began to come down. Once I’d collected myself, my limbs now shaky as the adrenaline drained from my bloodstream, I looked up at my savior.
And I blinked in surprise, jaw dropping, when I recognized her.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “You’re Aspen McKay.”
The woman’s peculiar cinnamon-colored eyes flashed with warmth, not a hint of annoyance to be found in her expression. “That’s me.”
Up to that point, I’d only ever seen photos of the private investigator-turned-best-selling true crime novelist. The first thing I noticed was how gorgeous she was, even more beautiful than photos suggested. Her hair was a bit longer than in theheadshot at the back of her book, and she was shorter than I expected. I had seven or eight inches on her.
Lainey and I were into true crime, and we’d devoured her book,The Shadows of Dusk Valley. For both of us, it had been crazy to think Kelly Saunders, the Prom Night Arsonist serial killer, had been active when we’d visited and we’d never known it.
Made a chill run down my spine.
Murder, arson, missing women.
This town may have been charming on the surface, but clearly, the welcoming facade masked evil.
Remembering my manners, I quickly apologized and added, “Thank you for that. I?—”
She smiled knowingly. “Trust me, I’ve been through a panic attack or two myself. And the sheriff’s department is a stressful place.”
“And the sheriff is an asshole,” I muttered.
Aspen laughed. “You can say that again.” She leaned closer, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Want to hear a secret?”
“Sure.”
