Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck #3)(35)

One town hall/sheriff’s department is large enough to host all the deputies also, and it appears Delaney Grove is their central headquarters, so to speak. The police department has five officers on its own, but the county? So many more.

Twenty-three deputies? Who needs that many in a county this small.

“I asked a question,” I say with authority, eyeing down the man with salt-and-pepper hair and dead eyes.

I should have come sooner. I’d have seen more than I expected. Already I see too much Leonard and Elise missed on their visit here.

“Four or five hunters’ cabins, and a whole lot of wild life you city boys don’t want to tangle with,” he says shortly, his tone thick with condescension.

He turns back to Johnson before glancing to one deputy. “You show these folks around. I’m going to go with SSA Johnson back to the fort.”

“The fort?” Elise asks.

“It’s what he calls our town hall,” one of the deputies says, grinning at her like she’s his type.

She casts a glare at Craig when he snickers.

I’m happy to get the sheriff and Johnson out of our hair, so I don’t object to them leaving us behind.

“Okay,” Elise mumbles to the deputy who is still beaming at her. The kid practically has hearts in his eyes. “They seriously don’t have women here, do they?” she adds.

“Not in uniform, ma’am,” the guy tells her, following us as we go to peer into the woods.

A hunter’s cabin would be ideal for our killer. He could come and go without being in plain sight. “The women who work in uniform are only in dispatch. Just two. Tonya and Tasha. They have a different office though.”

At least Elise can get some information from her new admirer.

Hadley is supposed to be bringing Lana with her when she drives in. Hadley couldn’t leave first thing this morning because there was a Delaney Grove related killing last night. Two towns over, in fact. Though no one here has wanted to talk about the death of Morgan Jones.

In fact, no one wants to talk about any of the deaths or the people who died.

We need to dig into his past and interview his family, just as we have all the victims, but SSA dipshit is making that difficult, since he refused to change the plans of coming here today. Why the rush?

And why did the unsub kill him quickly, compared to the others. It was definitely torture to be set on fire, and he was most likely castrated—they’re still trying to determine when the penis was removed, due to the scorched remains.

Words I never thought I’d say.

“These are your cabins,” the deputy tells us, resting his hands on his gun belt like he’s Barney Fyffe. Grinning like him too.

“Okay,” Elise says, eyeing him. “We’ve already seen the cabins.”

“I’m supposed to escort you in while they hold the town meeting, and escort you anywhere you need to go in case you need something.”

“We’re going to walk around and question the townspeople some,” Elise tells the lurker.

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head emphatically.

“You can’t do that. Sherriff Cannon said to keep you guys here, and take you wherever you needed to go. But he doesn’t want our people spooked by this dark issue.”

Dark issue? That’s seriously how he’s wording it?

“There’s a serial killer targeting your people. I held a nationwide press conference. How could they possibly not know?” Craig asks.

“Better yet, why wouldn’t you want them to know?” Elise inserts.

The deputy takes a step back, feeling ganged up on. He’s a nervous little guy.

“The sheriff controls the news stations we get. We have our own broadcasting network if we need the people to know something immediately. It’ll interrupt their regular service for the emergency broadcast.”

I turn away, looking at Craig. “This guy is dominating every aspect of their lives. It’s almost like an occult here.”

“And would be a damn good fit for a psychopath with narcissistic tendencies,” Donny says quietly, while Elise keeps Barney—or whatever his name is—distracted.

The original killer used this town’s faults to his advantage.

“The sheriff is trying to dominate us by acting as though we have no authority in his town,” I go on.

“What do we do?” Craig asks.

“Prove we’re the ones in charge. Print up flyers with the information of our profile, and start handing them out to everyone in town. We’ll divide into teams to ask questions.”

Craig nods, going into his cabin where we’ve set up our temporary headquarters—since the sheriff assured us his place didn’t have the room we’d need.

How generous of him.

“He owns the only spot in town you can rent out too,” Donny tells me.

“It’s one more step of total domination. He needs to be in control.”

“Sounds more like an extreme case of alpha personality than a psychopath, though.”

“On the surface,” I say absently, then turn to face the deputy. “Deputy…”

I let the word trail off, making it clear I have no idea what his unimportant name is. However, the guy grins a dopey, innocent grin, and I grow curious.

“It’s Deputy Charles Howser,” he says proudly, rocking back on his heels, completely oblivious and unoffended by the subtle barb.