Addison Fox - The Colton Sheriff

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 cobbler 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.”