Page 136 of Things We Hide from the Light

Hilly Swanson’s house was smack-dab in the middle of the migration path. Over the years, she’d spent a small fortune to snake-proof the foundation, but one or two always managed to find their way in.

I shoved the now empty shoe rack aside and checked behind it.

“This is just like waitin’ for those refrigerator biscuits to pop,” Winslow said. “You know it’s comin’ but that don’t mean you’re ready for it.” Winslow was not a snake person. The guy had no problem chasing bears out of campgrounds, but if it slithered, he wasn’t going near it.

I, on the other hand, had grown up on and in the creek, which had given me a hell of a lot of experience with snakes.

“I told Mickey not to leave the door open when he was cartin’ groceries inside. But he said I was crazy. And then he took his butt off to the golf course andI’mthe one who has to deal with the consequences. If I was a braver soul who wasn’t about to pee her pants, I’d put that damn snake on his side of the bed to teach him a lesson.”

I reached for the trench coat belt in the corner only to realize it was moving. “Gotcha.”

“Oh my God. I’m gonna kill Mickey.”

I aimed the beam of my flashlight at the reptile and reached out lightning-quick to grab it just behind the head. It was cold and eerily slick under my hand, like no matter how tight I held on, the muscles under all that smooth would just slide right out.

“It’s practically a baby,” I said, stuffing all five feet of pissed-off rat snake into the pillowcase I kept in my cruiser for such occasions.

I backed out of the closet and got to my feet.

Hilly recoiled. “Lord have mercy.”

Winslow looked like he was trying real hard to back through the front door without opening it.

“I think we’re done here,” I said, holding the wriggling pillowcase in one hand.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Hilly chanted. She followed us out onto the front porch, still wringing her hands. “You got a second to talk about another snake-related matter?”

“Sure. Mind gettin’ our new friend settled in the car, Winslow?” I handed over the snake in the bag to him, mostly to mess with him. “Watch where you step. The ground’s slithering this time of year,” I warned.

He swallowed hard, held the pillowcase gingerly at arm’s length, and tiptoed toward the SUV.

“What’s the latest on Dilton?” Hilly asked, sliding back into her usual tough broad role now that the snake was no longer in her vicinity.

“Investigation is ongoing,” I said.

“That’s the standard line,” she complained.

“That’s what’s on record.”

“Well, then gimme off the record so I can start preparing what the hell I’m gonna say to the town council.”

“Off the record, so far we’ve only dug back a few months into his cases, interviewing victims and suspects.”

“But?”

“But there’s a pattern on the calls he handled solo since I got myself shot. Being a man down opened a window for him and he took advantage. He’s not comin’ back from this.”

“What’s the town’s responsibility in all this? How do we make this right?”

I expected the first question and respected the hell out of her for the second.

I blew out a breath. “We’re going by the book, crossing t’s and dottin’ i’s. He’s not getting off on a technicality. But here’s the part you’re not gonna like.”

“Knew it was comin’.”

“I reached out to the Kennedys, the husband and wife Dilton harassed during the traffic stop. I spoke with both, without counsel.”

She raised her auburn eyebrows. “And how did that go?”