Page 15

CHAPTER 15

REDLEY

I pull up, finding only one cruiser sitting in the parking lot of Ever Pines Sheriff's Department , but at least someone is here. I put Penny in park and check my face in the rearview. I’ve seen better days. My long black hair barely stays tucked in its bun, and my scars glow brighter than normal with the dark bags under my eyes and the shining sun. Thanks, Granny , I think to myself right before guilt punches a hole in my stomach.

The door to the station swings wide as I push it open, a bell ringing above me. Dust hangs in the air. Not too many people live out this way or have cause to pass through, but it’s still miles ahead of Grimm Groves in assets. A TV sits on a table in a waiting area as proof of that. It’s tuned to a baseball game, and the sheriff's deputy sits behind the desk, eating a sandwich and watching. I walk up to him, prepared for another bad time. He nods when he sees me but barely pulls his eyes off the game.

“What can I do you for?” he asks. “You’re only catching me because I came in from patrol for my lunch,” he says, gesturing to his sandwich. Is that a guilty conscience? Seems to me like he’s watching the game. Blond-haired with a sharp jaw and nice to look at. Porter, the shining badge on his chest says.

“I need your help,” I tell him. “It’s serious.”

He chews as he looks at me and finally waves for me to take a seat in front of him. The chair creaks as I sit, and I run over which part of the story proved too much for each officer. Mentioning deaths that happened over fifty years ago got me kicked out of one. Saying law enforcement doesn’t do their job got me kicked out of another.

“I live out in a town called Grimm Groves,” I begin.

He narrows his eyes, already deciding I’m bothering him. “Never heard of it, and it’s not in my jurisdiction.”

“Oh,” I say, trying not to sound too confident. Being an overly confident woman is another reason I was turned away yesterday. “That’s not what they told me. They told me you could help.” I try to bat my eyes, but he’s looking at the game again, not me.

“Who’s they?” he asks, and I realize quickly that the innocent act isn’t for me.

“Oh, you know, those officers,” I hedge as I reach into my bag and pull out the map of the mountain and hold it open for him. “Over the past five years, there have been sixteen murders in this town.” I point it out to him. Little X’s detail each place they died or were found. “Just a few nights ago, a teenage boy was killed. Had his throat slit and our self-appointed mayor put him in the ground without calling the locals.”

“People die for lots of reasons that don’t involve the law,” he answers, still paying more attention to his sandwich than me. “I’m sure you’re wrong about how that kid died. What did the mayor say killed him?”

“A bear.” My hands try to shake as I sense the conversation going nowhere again.

“Then it was probably a bear.”

I breathe through my nose real slow so he doesn’t see just how much all this bothers me. This isn’t going to be another situation like the other night, where I throw the lamp and leave myself in the dark. “It’s been happening for about nine years. People keep dying bloody out on this mountain, and no one is paying attention.”

“So what do you think is happening?” he asks.

“Someone is killing people.” It takes everything I have not to shout, not to show him just how angry I am.

“Do you have any proof?” He already believes I don’t, just like the rest of them.

“I do, but I would need you to come back with me to see it.”

He laughs. “I’m not going all the way out there if you don’t have some reason to make me think I should.”

“I have proof back home. That’s all I’ve got,” I insist, holding in all the rage and pain tearing me apart. Like hell am I going to let him see just how fucking angry I am and offer him an excuse to call me a hysterical woman.

He shakes his head at me. “I don’t know, Miss… ?”

“Little.”

“I don’t know, Miss Little. Anyone can put marks on a map and spin a yarn.” He takes the last bite of his sandwich and wipes a napkin across his mouth.

“I’m telling the truth,” I insist.

“You might be. Doesn’t make it true, though.” He leans back in his chair, not a hint of the urgency I need or hoped for. “I hear an awful lot of unbelievable stories, and some of the people telling them believe them with all their heart.”

“Are you calling me crazy?” I ask through my teeth, briefly considering the sawed-off in the bed of the truck. Maybe I’m crazy like the Wolf now and want to spill some blood.

“I’m not calling you anything. But your story isn’t making you sound too believable.”

“It’s true.”

He picks up the phone and dials a number.

“What are you doing?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer as he rotates the little wheel again and again until it picks out the right sequence. Holding it to his ear, he greets whoever is on the other end.

“Yeah, I’m watching,” he says, clearly commenting on the game. “Have to ask you a question. You ever come across a Miss Little? Says she needs help and someone told her to come my way.”

He listens for a long moment before he says, “Uh-huh, of course, I’ll send her on her way.” He hangs up the phone.

“Seems like the boys west of here didn’t believe you either.” His hand moves to his side, and my instincts scream he’s about to cuff me, jail me, and do something awful to me that I don’t want to stick around for.

“Just because other people didn’t believe me doesn’t mean I’m not telling the truth.”

“I can’t help you,” he insists. “And it sounds like you’ve been making quite the impression of yourself with my neighbors.” I’m not sure who he called, but if it was the guys from last night, they definitely had some unkind words.

“You are my last hope, okay? That’s the truth. No one told me to come here. I’m desperate.”

I’m not sure why, but that seems to get his attention, and he gives me the full weight of his stare for the first time.

“Desperate?” he asks. “Why are you so desperate, Miss Little?”

“No one will listen.”

He smirks as he gives me a once-over. “I really wish I could help you.” He’s clearly not listening either, but he is the first officer to give me this type of attention. I’ve never even had sex with myself, let alone anyone else, and I don’t plan to change that status. Sex causes too much trouble, and I don’t have the time for any of that when I’m trying to protect people, but if I have something to use, maybe I should.

“All you have to do is help,” I say, letting him know how damn easy it would be for any of them to stop turning a blind eye to me.

“My friend at the next station told me to stay the hell away from you if I’m smart.”

“Why would he do that?”

He smirks. “I don’t know, but maybe I’m interested in finding out.” He leans forward, putting each elbow on the desk, and I suddenly understand why I’m interesting now. People like what they can’t have.

“You’d have to come see the truth for yourself.” That’s not a double entendre. All he needs to see is the blood all over my cabin, the fingerprints, and he’ll have to see it’s true.

“Your mountain is an hour from here. You want me to go that far for a little proof and nothing else?” he asks.

My thoughts once again fly to the sawed-off.

“People are dying ,” I insist. “That has to be worth something.” I swallow hard. “You’d be my hero,” I say.

“Miss Little, I’m awfully sorry about the situation, and I really would like to help you, but Grimm Groves just isn’t in our jurisdiction. Hell, I’ve never even heard of it. What can I do if I head out there?”

“Whose jurisdiction is it, then?” I insist. It can’t just be mine and the Wolf’s.

Porter thinks about my question for a minute before answering, “The feds, I guess.”

But they’ve already turned me down.

“What about a police report?” I ask. “You can take a police report no matter where you are, can't you?”

He thinks, shrugging. “I mean, if there’s something to report on, who’s to stop me from writing down what I see? It wouldn’t be official, but the local boys are more likely to listen to me than you,” he agrees.

“That’s good enough for me,” I swear, a fierce hope lighting me up from the inside out. “Please help me.”

“I’m not sure, but leave me your coordinates, and I’ll think about it,” he says. “Maybe you can cook me dinner one of these nights.”

“Help me solve this case, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” I say, picking up a pen and marking the exact spot on the map on his desk.

“I’ll consider it, I promise,” he says.

I fold my map up and put it back in my bag as I wink at him, feeling dirty in a way I never have before.