Page 48 of Deadly Deception
I did and knew if that’s truly what had taken place, then I’d feel sick about it. Boone would too. “I wish we could have helped more.”
Boone hung his head, feigning frustrated sadness.
Wrapping my arm around his shoulders, I pulled Boone tighter against me and asked, “Is the sheriff in his office?”
“Last I checked,” Sara said. “Feel free to go knock on his door. Uncle Shane asked me to tell you that he won’t be able to make it today. He’s a little under the weather and didn’t want to spread his germs around.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Boone said. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
Sara waved off the lie. Tompkins was clearly staying home to keep an eye on his latest necromancer guest. “Probably just an irritating cold. I’ll call him later to check up.”
I’d need to tell Tompkins later what an excellent actress his niece was. Offering a quick “Thanks, Sara,” I guided Boone around the desk and down the hall leading to Henson’s office. I gave a polite knock and waited for him to say, “Come in.”
I held the door open for Boone and followed him in. Henson was at his desk. He appeared better rested today. The scent of his cologne wasn’t quite as strong but was still the dominant smell in the room. “I hope you two got some sleep,” Henson said while waving a hand at the seats opposite his desk. “You especially, Boone.” Henson barely looked up. His fingers flew across thekeyboard furiously. I could hazard a guess that he was trying to get caught up on paperwork but wasn’t certain.
This morning, while Boone was in the shower, I’d attempted to scrounge up information on Vanja. Everything I could find was decades old, accomplishing little beyond giving me a nagging headache and blurry vision. While a single name wasn’t much to go on, the only current references I’d found weren’t credible. It was hearsay at best, and wild conjecture at worst. Most mentions I found were subtle and veiled, as if the person writing the information were afraid to even type the name. It was beyond frustrating. I’d given up the chase when Boone was clean, dressed, and ready for breakfast. Our new hotel didn’t have the complimentary breakfast waffles he craved. Boone had settled for a biscuit and jelly along with a bowl of cereal. I made a mental note to take him out for breakfast tomorrow—somewhere waffles flowed like the rivers of syrup they were drenched in.
“I’m as charged up as I’m going to get,” Boone answered.
Henson finally stopped typing and stared at Boone. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It just means that I’ve eaten and am rested.” Hooking a thumb in my direction, Boone added, “And that Franklin’s loaded up with candy. Depending on just how many souls you want me to bring back, their willingness to talk, and their overall condition, I may or may not need the candy.”
“I learned the hard way that having sugar close at hand is a good idea,” I offered. Henson’s eyes scrunched and his lips pinched, but otherwise he remained silent.
“Has Dr. Scott done the autopsies yet?” Boone asked.
“Only the preliminaries. Dr. Scott did as you asked and held off on anything that might physically disturb the bodies further.”
“Good,” Boone and I said in unison. Neither one of us wanted a repeat of the Jane Doe whose soul had been returned to a post-autopsy body. Her soul had been so traumatized that Boone let her go before we could get any information. It was a lesson we’d all taken to heart. Maybe every soul wouldn’t react that way, but why take the risk when you didn’t have to?
“I suppose there’s no time like the present.” Henson sounded less than enthused. More like he was headed to the dentist for a painful extraction. It was needed but dreaded.
Before he could push out of his chair, there was another knock at the door followed by a huffed, “Come in” from Henson.
I recognized the head of brown hair that poked through the parted door and barely contained a growl of irritation. It was the officer who’d plastered himself to the side of the hallway a couple of days ago, making the sign of the cross over his chest as Boone passed by. I remembered his name. Jarrod Simms.
“Sheriff, I—” Simms’s tongue tied on his parted lips as he gaped like a fish when he saw the company Sheriff Henson currently kept.
Loudly tapping the edge of a pen on his desk, Henson said, “Well, Officer Simms, spit it out. I’ve got a busy day and don’t have time for your existential crisis.”
Boone chuckled and I fought a grin. Boone was right and I agreed with hislove-hateissues regarding Sheriff Henson.
Simms’s mouth snapped shut and his cheeks flushed scarlet. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt Sheriff. I just heard that the other necromancer was released last night.” Simms said the wordnecromancerlike it was the shit on the bottom of his shoe.
“That’s correct. What of it?” Henson sounded irritated, just like anyone would expect.
“I… Was that wise? I mean, maybe he didn’t kill Mr. Foster, but he’s not stable. He could hurt someone else. I don’t think releasing him back to the street was a good idea. I’m sure he wouldn’t be difficult to find. I can go pick him up again.”
Henson sighed like Atlas holding up the weight of the world. “Christ, Simms. What charge do you want me to hold him on? He didn’t commit the murder we assumed. He hasn’t assaulted anyone we know of. Does he have a few screws loose? Probably, but so do a lot of other people roaming the streets. Do you want me to arrest and hold all of them too? If so, we’re going to need to ask the good citizens of LaPorte County to pony up more tax money so we can build a jail large enough to hold the quirky, bizarre, and mentally off-balanced. I’ll let you handle the PR for that campaign.”
Simms stood there, his earlier flustered surprise rapidly turning into something darker. “Those arehumans, not necromancers.” I didn’t like the look Simms threw Boone’s way. As for my man, Boone casually sat there, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee as he stared up at the bigot crowding the doorway. Boone’s smile was brittle and lacked warmth. What it didn’t lack was a big, loudfuck you, asshole.
“For the love of… You know what, Simms? Why don’t you take your antiquated ideas out of my office and back to your desk? I’m sure you’ve got something more productive to work on, like how in the hell this department missed finding all the bodies lying around that Necromancer Boone managed to discover in less than three hours out there on the streets. That would be a hell of a lot more useful than whatever you think you’re doing here.”
Simms looked like he wanted to say more, and like he was as volatile as a volcano and ready to erupt. Instead, he swallowed his toxic words, allowing them to burn and simmer, increasing the pressure waiting to inevitably blow.
With a quick nod, Simms walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him. I had no idea if Simms was the bad egg we were looking for. Regardless, the man was rotten and stunk up the place.
