Page 47 of Her Boss

It was a room where cops would sweat suspects, the taupe paint, the water-stained perforated ceiling tiles, and the battered steel table forming a tableau that practically cried out interrogation.

The harsh fluorescent overhead strip lights were so bright it made my head hurt.

Fucking strange place for a meeting.

But lots of things were strange in White Valley.

Keenan sat next to me, leaning back in his creaky plastic chair, his fingers laced together behind his head.

Genie was on my left, scribbling into her notebook. I’d asked her to take notes, and thankfully, she’d eagerly obeyed. I suspected she might have been grateful for something to distract her from pondering the scene we’d witnessed that morning.

“I do know someone,” I said. “Deals in… information. But he has connections to some seriously dangerous people. Maybe even a few from around here.”

Keenan’s voice was neutral. “And you think he’s gonna help us out?”

I couldn’t help my knowing smile. “He won’t have a choice.”

“And why would that be?

Just then, the door to the room opened and in strode Ford Matthis, the town’s sheriff. His ballcap style hat was tipped up slightly, one thumb tucked into a utility belt that carried a gun, handcuffs, and a Taser. A holster for a pistol at his thigh hung empty.

He was tall and well muscled, and his dark beard was beginning to frost with gray at the chin. He looked every bit the rugged, take-no-shit small-town lawman.

Ford regarded both of us with something akin to either impatience or suspicion. Likely both. “Okay, Keenan, I’m here. What are we talking about?”

“The disappearance. We want to discuss ways we might be able to… help.”

Ford lifted a finger toward me, but addressed Keenan. “You mean ways he can help.”

Keenan rolled his eyes. “He’s not here to get in your way. Neither am I. But we need to talk about this.” Keenan straightened the collar of his dress shirt. “I should officially introduce you two. Ford, this is?—”

“I know who he is. Rick Trafford is a name I’ve run across before. Unfortunately.”

I fucking knew this would be his attitude. Goddamned cops.

It seemed to throw off the normally unflappable Keenan—but only for a moment. “Well, good. We can get right to it then.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed, locked on Keenan. “This isn’t your job,” he snapped.

Keenan didn’t back down an inch. “No one implied it was. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to offer whatever assistance I can.”

“Why are you here, Mr. Trafford?” Ford’s gaze settled on Genie. “And who’s the girl?”

A note of petulance in her voice, she replied, “My name is?—”

“Not important,” I said, cutting her off. “She’s here to take notes for me. And she can be trusted.”

Ford looked pointedly at Keenan, who nodded. “Like Rick said. She’s good.”

I glanced between them both, trying to get a feel for what would be best to suggest. “Keenan asked me to come out, hear what’s been happening, give you my suggestions for who might be able to help. That’s it. I can’t promise anything more than that.”

“You came all this way… for that?” Ford shook his head slowly, then rubbed his jaw. “This isn’t the first time that a young woman has vanished in our town. But that doesn’t mean we’ve got a repeat of what we’ve had to contend with… in the past. Too early to make that call. It really could be… a whole lot of nothing.”

As Ford spoke, the tension grew in the room. There was something the lawman wasn’t telling.

Hell, he hasn’t told you a thing yet, you idiot.

Ford cleared his throat. “We received an official missing person’s report for one Olivia Madras. Twenty. Last seen in Promontory Park. Hasn’t been heard from in more than two weeks now. Just… vanished. Though it’s only one girl, the pattern is… eerily similar to spates of disappearances that bedeviled our town more than a hundred years ago. But so far, it’s only one. Might be just a runaway, and that’s actually what most of these turn out to be. In the end, anyway.”

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