Page 17 of Corrupting Ivy

I raised a brow, then shook my head.

Rachel was fresh out of high school, so her attitude matched the lack of maturity I expected from an eighteen-year-old girl. But she rarely misbehaved or had an attitude like most city girls her age. Rachel thought I was encroaching on the number one ‘bachelor’ in the Cavil rodeo, even though I thought I put this topic to bed.

She was what we like to call a ‘buckle bunny.’ Although she carries a few buckles herself, she mostly dates men who are in the rodeo and bringing home that trophy. Otis was one of those men, plus a therapist. Apparently, he was the best here in both professions.

I was never into that part of the rodeo. Riding bulls and broncs or roping calves just didn’t do it for me. No. I enjoyed barrel racing or the cutting events. Those were talents for horses and, to me, that was a far more superior event.

A human can learn damn near anything, but to teach an animal… Now that took expertise.

I wrote her complicated order down on my sheet of paper and walked away, then handed it to Walter with a generous smile.

“What is this?” His brows shot up, wrinkling his forehead.

“Rachel is trying new things today.” I laughed with sarcasm as he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. He stuck the order in the clip, then went back to work on the grill.

The morning ran smoothly, but disappointment settled in as Randall didn’t show. I wasn’t one to attach myself to one particular person so soon after meeting them, but he had this aura around him that made me gravitate towards him like a black hole. I wanted to disappear in there just to see what it might contain.

Things slowed down. The diner thinned out, and then she came in.

I left her changingher clothes and didn’t look back. My cock stiffened as she stripped down in front of me, giving me a full view of her perfect handful of tits and round ass. I had to leave. If I didn’t, there was no telling what I'd end up doing. I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew what I should do, but those two factions were at war with each other, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate it.

It didn’t help that she’d walked in on me while I was showering and stood there gawking like she’d never seen a man before. I’m stiff just thinking about it. After going to the bar where my truck and clothes were, I’d gone inside and changed, avoiding a pissed-off Remy, then went to the station to see what they knew about the man I buried twenty-one years ago.

So here I sat in the Sheriff’s office, across from his desk as he pushed a stack of papers to the side instead of pushing her to her limits. The FBI gave the dear old Sheriff some homework, and the papers he moved around were the product of such duties.

I had Jake, my hacker friend and business partner, do a little research into the goings-on with this case. Turns out, the same agents that I saw last night were the same ones that took over the investigation in town. Because they weren’t in the precinct this morning and the police precinct was so small that not even all their deputies had a desk, it was safe to say they worked elsewhere. It worked out better for Sheriff Kennedy and for me. They didn’t have the demanding FBI running around their cases, and I didn’t have to watch out for them as I questioned Kennedy.

“It’s been a long time, son.”

Son.

A term of endearment given to all southern boys, but with Kennedy, it was different. He’d been there for me from the beginning, the very beginning, and there was no negative connotation when he addressed me that way. He considered me to be like a son to him, but if he knew who I really was, what I did behind closed doors… he’d revoke that title faster than he created it.

“It has. How are things?”

“Hectic, to say the least. We’ve had more calls coming in now that tourists have taken a likin’ to our town.”

“I see that.”

“You heard about the serial killer? Is that why you’re here?”

I shook my head. Supposedly, you walked by thirty-six murderers in your lifetime, but I see one in the mirror every day. I wouldn’t waste my time on one petty killer. There were more important things to attend to. “Ma, called.”

He bobbed his head with understanding. “Must be important if it brought you home.”

“Not sure yet. She refused to tell me over the phone, and now all she rambles about is her usual paranoia.” I wasn’t about to tell him about our actual conversation, although I wasn’t far off. He didn’t need to know the intricate details… or lack thereof.

There were certain things in this world you just kept to yourself. Unless fate forced another human being to become witness to your atrocities, then it stuck you with them for life. Or until you put a bullet in their head, which was looking mighty tempting. Ma was one of those people that Iwouldn’tget rid of. I risked everything just for the opportunity to make her live in absolute misery. Besides, she was so far on the side of insane; no one would believe a lick of what she said. Unless she took them to the evidence. But, so far, in the twenty-one years, she hasn’t.

“Anyway, I see the FBI has kept you busy. How’s the investigation coming along?”

Kennedy clasped his hands in front of his small beer belly, leaned back in his rolling chair, and puffed out air between his lips. “Not good.” He leaned forward and grabbed a large manila file tucked in with the rest of the papers.

I dragged my seat closer to the light brown wooden desk with enough scratch marks on it that we could count them like rings on a tree—each one depicting a certain time in history.

He flipped open the file to show an image of a skeleton settled into the ground, with smooth dirt all around it as they excavated the remains from the grave. A sticky note listed off a few distinguishing details. It was a female, around mid-to-late twenties, who died with blunt force trauma to the skull. Cause of death; Exsanguination from a throat sliced so deep, it cut the spine and left a deep groove in the bone.

Someone damned near decapitated her.

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