Julie Anne Lindsey - The Sheriff's Secret

West gripped the wheel tighter, unable to argue and unwilling to upset her further by playing devil’s advocate. The truth was, he had no idea what was going on in his county today. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Carl before we get there?”

“No. Just that he’s doing phenomenally in group, so please don’t upset him if you can help it. News of the shooting will be tough enough—badgering him could set his progress back, and I don’t want that.”

The country road rose and fell before them under a covering of gray clouds. Green reflections of little eyes blinked along the roadside, considering a test of their fate.

It was late in October and nearing lunchtime already. Barely six hours of sunlight remaining. West had enjoyed autumn as a kid, but he’d learned to see it as a hindrance after joining local law enforcement. Shorter days meant fewer hours to look for clues and missing people. It also gave criminals more time to hide under the cover of night.

Tina fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. “Where do you think the shooter is now? Do people like that just go home and have dinner? Do they kill themselves? Leave the state?”

“Depends.” West slowed the cruiser to a crawl at the end of a narrow dirt road. Peeling numbers on the battered mailbox suggested that they’d arrived. “This it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been here.”

West spun his wheel, navigating a sharp right into the unknown. No Trespassing signs were nailed to posts on either side of the road. A trailer stood fifty feet back, bookended by trees and a picnic table. An aged blue car sat in a bed of gravel out front.

“That’s his car,” Tina said, unbuckling her belt.

“Wait.” West stretched a hand across her middle like a guard gate. “It’s dark under all these clouds and trees. I want you to stay put until I give you a signal.”

“Why?” She dropped her voice to a low, ragged whisper. “Do you think the killer’s here?”

He gave the dark trailer another long inspection. “Not necessarily. There’s only one vehicle, and it’s not a pickup, but I’d rather be safe, so wait here until I give you an all clear. Understand?”

“Okay.”

He popped his door open and flashed her a warning look when the interior light came on. “I mean it this time.”

She made a show of fixing her hands on her lap.

West flipped his bright lights on and locked her in the car. The cruiser’s headlights illuminated a path to the trailer. West scanned the ground for signs of a struggle as he moved. Nothing unusual, no fallen items, drag marks or drops of blood. He stepped with care onto the makeshift wooden deck outside the front door, and a motion light snapped on.

West’s heart rate sprang into overdrive. He reseated his sidearm, unleashed on instinct at the unexpected flick of the light, and rapped on the trailer door. Surprisingly, the shock hadn’t increased his headache. The aspirin must’ve finally taken effect. He braced his free palm against the butt of his gun. “Cade County Sheriff, Mr. Morgan,” he boomed.

The trailer rocked slightly. Interior lights flashed on one by one from the back to the front. West moved away as the silver door swung open.

A heavy-lidded man in worn jeans and a faded blue T-shirt squinted at the cruiser’s lights. “Hello?”

“Over here, Mr. Morgan,” West said. “Do you know why I’m here?” He examined Carl slowly for signs of a weapon.

Carl blinked long and slow, scrubbing calloused hands over his thick brown hair. “Was there an accident on the road?”

“No, sir.” West took a more relaxed stance, but kept the distance. “You want to tell me why you aren’t at work?”

“I had a migraine.” He pressed a palm to one side of his head in evidence. “I’ve been in bed.”

“You get migraines often?”

“Sometimes.” Carl’s gaze drifted back to the cruiser. “Is someone else in there?” He shielded his eyes with one hand.

West ignored the question. “You’ve been home all morning?”

Carl dipped his chin, still preoccupied with the cruiser’s lights.

“Any visitors?”

“Not until you. Why? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You missed your group session. Don’t you usually call ahead if you’re not coming?”

“I—I’ve never missed. I d-didn’t know I had to call.”

The stutter gave West pause. Tina’s words came back to mind. Much as he’d like to continue questioning Carl alone, he didn’t want to be the reason the man relapsed or whatever Tina had just warned might happen. He lifted a hand without taking his eyes off Carl and opened and shut his palm, beckoning Tina from her place of safety. He changed positions as she approached, putting the trailer’s wall at his back and everything else within his line of vision, peripheral or otherwise.

The passenger door opened, and Carl took a step backward, arm extended toward the trailer door.

“Stop,” West ordered, and both people froze. He motioned to Tina again, attention fixed on Carl. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Mr. Morgan.”

He didn’t have to guess when Tina came into focus for Carl. The man’s eyebrows stretched into his hairline, and his mouth dropped open. It was the reaction he expected most men had when they first saw her. Having been the onetime recipient of her rejection, West might’ve felt bad for the guy if there wasn’t a shooter in town with his sick mind set on Tina. As far as West was concerned, all men were suspects until proven otherwise.

Chapter Four

“Hi, Carl.” Tina spoke carefully as she climbed onto the wooden platform outside the trailer. Water dripped from the ragged awning stretched overhead, remnant drops from the recent storm. “I missed you at group today.”

Carl’s eyes darted between her, the headlights and the brooding sheriff at his side. “I—I’m a little surprised you felt the offense required an intervention by l-law enf-f-forcement.” His expression softened with the joke.

Tina smiled, thankful to see Carl at ease. She flicked West a meaningful look. “Maybe we can cut the spotlight.”

West leveled Carl with a no-nonsense expression before finally stepping away.

Carl moved closer to Tina the instant West abandoned his position as watchdog. “This isn’t really about me. Is it?”

“Not at all.” Tina shook her head, hoping to look less on edge than she felt.

“Are you okay?” Carl asked. “Did something happen to you? To Lily? Is there anything I can do? If you need a place to stay, I—I have plenty of room.”

“No. Nothing like that, exactly. Something happened after group today, and we wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”

His mouth curved into a small smile. “You were worried about m-me?”

“Yeah.” Memories of the moments outside her office flashed back to mind, stinging her eyes and drying her mouth.

The blinding headlights extinguished, and Tina blinked several times to readjust her vision. “There was a shooting.”

West returned to them slowly, watching with careful cop eyes, one hand resting on the butt of his gun. Tina doubted that he missed much as town sheriff. He’d missed very little as a teen. She could only imagine his power of perception had grown keener with training and maturity.

Carl’s gaze traveled quizzically over Tina. “You weren’t hurt.”

“No. Not me.”

West shifted his weight, drawing Carl’s attention. “Another member of your group was murdered today. Steven Masters. How well did you know him?”

Tina narrowed her eyes on West. He could’ve been a little tactful about announcing a person’s death.

Something in his expression said he’d been intentionally harsh. Too much tightness in his jaw and rigidity in his stance. West didn’t trust Carl. Why?