She shook her head, but Wyatt started snoring. Well, all right. She’d question Brock first. “I’d like to stay and speak with Wyatt’s wife.” Maybe Sylvie knew something about whatever the heck Wyatt had been talking about. Ophelia walked out into the hallway with Brock, nearly running into Dr. Smirnov.
The doctor shook her head. “I spoke with Sylvie on a radio, and she’s beside herself. As her doctor, I’m refusing access until she has seen her husband and calmed down. That’s only if I don’t have to administer a sedative for her.”
Irritation forced Ophelia to clench her back teeth. “All right. Please have her call me at Flossy’s when she’s available to speak, as I’ve lost my phone.” She couldn’t wait to jump into the warm pink decorated bed and sleep for hours. “For now, Wyatt is talking about some sort of monster that gouges out eyes. Do you have any idea what that’s about?”
The doctor shook her head, no expression revealing her thoughts. “Wyatt is heavily medicated. No doubt he’s just talking through the trauma of a night spent in the freezing cold. I don’t believe in monsters. Supernatural ones, anyway.”
The image of the EVE man’s clawed face and gouged out eyes flashed through Ophelia’s memory. “Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” she murmured. Monsters definitely existed. “I’m going to find this one.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After a night of sleeping like the dead, Brock pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office, surprised to find it unlocked. Warmth hit him instantly as he walked inside, and he stopped short at seeing Flossy behind the receptionist’s desk, humming to muted Christmas music from a radio behind her as she organized case files. “What are you doing?” He shut out the cold with a shove of his hip to the door.
Flossy looked up, her eyes focusing behind her thick glasses. “Since you’ve finally gotten your butt to work, I decided to take my old job back. I ran this office for Sheriff Blazerton, you know.”
Brock paused. “I’m not the sheriff.”
Flossy rolled her eyes. “Stop being an ass, Brock.” She patted the gray hair piled on her head and pulled a pencil from above her ear. “We’ve got a federal agent in town, a bunch of unsolved murders or disappearances, and now a dead EVE man with his eyes clawed out. We totally need a sheriff.”
Brock banked his temper. “Then find somebody who wants to be the sheriff.”
A swish of sound echoed, and Ophelia walked out of the conference room. Today, the woman wore a light green sweaterand dark jeans. She started. “Oh. Good morning, Brock.” The scent of strawberries wafted his way.
He barely kept back a grimace. Instead, he studied her from head to toe. Her eyes sparkled, and her complexion had a healthy glow. “Any residual effects from falling into the river?” he asked. With their health restored, he could take a moment and appreciate the feeling of her naked body against him the day before. Damn, she had some nice curves.
She shook her head, and black hair feathered over her shoulders. “No. A good night’s sleep and then one of Flossy’s delicious breakfasts have me back on track. How about you?”
His stomach growled. “I’m fine.” He hadn’t even had coffee yet.
Ophelia wavered and then straightened her shoulders to look even taller. “There’s hot coffee in the small kitchenette, and then I’d like to formally interview you, with recording, about Hank Osprey’s death. Afterward, we need to find Christian so I can question him regarding Wyatt Yankovich’s statement about him seeing Christian around the now missing EVE victim.”
“I’m not in the mood for questioning, Olly,” Brock retorted. But he was in the mood for coffee. He started to walk toward the kitchenette.
Flossy cleared her throat. “If you’re not finally going to admit you’re the sheriff, why are you here?”
He paused. “I came to check on Amos. Ophelia upset him the other day.”
Flossy nodded. “He’s fine. I took scones down to him when I arrived, and he’s glad you’ve decided to get to work. Said it’s been lonely not hearing footsteps above his head.” She lowered her chin. “There are more scones in the kitchen. For the sheriff.”
“There isn’t one. But I’m here, and I’m starving.” Brock turned without another word and hustled into the kitchenette, downing two of the delicious scones before pouring himself agenerous mug of the fragrant-smelling coffee. He didn’t think Flossy would come after him with a letter opener for eating the scones, but even if she did, the treat was worth it. Of course, they were strawberry.
He just couldn’t get away from the fruit.
As if to prove the point, Ophelia entered the room and refilled her coffee cup. “I’ve set up a war room in the conference room with the three most urgent cases, and I need to interview you for all three. Now is a good time. I’d rather not call in reinforcements from the federal government, but I will.”
The skin at the nape of his neck prickled, and he forced a smile. “There’s nothing I like more than a threat first thing in the morning.”
The woman didn’t blink. “It wasn’t so much a threat as a plan of action. Take it as you will.”
Not many people met his gaze when he turned growly. The fact that she did had his unwilling admiration for her growing even more. “Fine, Special Agent Spilazi. Let’s take a look at your interviewing skills.”
“Excellent, Sheriff.” With that last zinger, she turned on her boot heel and strode down the hallway to the conference room.
Yeah, he watched her butt as she moved. The woman had a phenomenal ass. He took a deep drink of the coffee, letting the heat and flavor slam into his gut. Then he followed her.
She sat across from him with records, photos, and notepads stacked neatly in front of her. Behind her, she’d used the old chalkboard and taped up four areas showing her cases: Hank Osprey, EVE Victim, Tamara Randsom, and Missing Persons.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Missing persons?”
