Page 30 of Deadly Deception
“You’ve got a problem, Sheriff.” Franklin’s tone was soothingly deep, contradicting the severity of your words.
Henson grimaced and answered, “I’ll handle it.”
Franklin’s large palm landed on my shoulder. “I don’t doubt your intentions, and I’m not questioning your leadership. I’m just saying that what Foster just implied is a very pricklysituation. Ridding a house of rats is difficult. Ridding a police force of vermin is even more difficult.”
“You don’t know we’ve got an officer on the take,” Henson retorted, although there was a distinct lack of fire behind that statement.
“You’re right, I don’t. However, I don’t think it’s normal for a town the size of Michigan City to have so many unaccounted-for dead bodies just lying around, and I don’t think you’re okay with that either.”
Henson’s jaw tightened, working back and forth as he remained stubbornly silent.
Franklin inhaled deeply. “I’m just saying, if you need a safe ear to bounce ideas off, I’m offering you mine. Boone and I accomplished what we came here for. Navarre isn’t responsible for this man’s death.” Franklin pointed toward DeWayne’s corpse. “Navarre was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Any earlier and he’d probably be dead also. I don’t have any more skin in this game. That’s all I’m saying.”
It was a long, drawn-out minute before Sheriff Henson gave a begrudging nod. I figured that was all the thanks we were going to get for our services and Franklin’s generous offer.
“Come on, Boone. Nana’s waiting.” Franklin gave my arm a gentle tug, and I readily followed. I offered a polite goodbye to Dr. Scott and a less polite, but neutral farewell to Sheriff Henson.
Despite Pops’s pain charm, I still felt queasy walking out of the LaPorte County Sheriff’s Office. I’d told DeWayne Foster to go in peace, but I was left feeling anything but. Suddenly, this situation had gotten a hell of a lot more complicated than saving a haunted necromancer.
Chapter
Ten
Franklin
“Are you sure you’re up for meeting Nana and my family tonight?” I asked while driving toward her house. Boone was putting up a valiant front, but he had to be wiped out.
“I’ll be fine. Stop fussing,” Boone insisted. Somewhere along the line his hand had fallen to my thigh. Boone didn’t add any pressure. The simple, intimate gesture was enough.
“It’s my right and privilege to fuss,” I answered and wholeheartedly believed those words. Boone’s soft chuckle warmed and loosened my chest. Unfortunately, that tightness didn’t stay away for long.
I got the feeling DeWayne Foster’s interview had kicked open a hornet’s nest. I also got the feeling that Sheriff Hanson knew more than he let on. Not that I expected him to spill the conspiratorial beans to me. I’d offered to lend a hand, even if it was just an ear to bounce theories off. I had no idea if Henson would take me up on the offer and had even less of an idea if I wanted him to or not. On the one hand, the sheriff needed help. Vanja should be dead, buried, and long gone. I didn’t know who or what the victims thought Vanja was, only that they truly believed that’s who was behind their deaths. Vanja was morethan just a noncorporeal ghost. Someone made of flesh and blood was behind the killings, and they needed to be stopped. If what Foster said was true, then Sheriff Henson had a hell of a lot more trouble on his hands besides bringing a necromancer to town.
Boone lay his head back, humming the lyrics to the song on the radio. Boone liked listening to radio rather than streaming music. He appeared peaceful, and I hated to derail that peace, but I couldn’t stop the thoughts repeating in my head.
“You know he’s going to ask you to bring the other souls back.”
“I know,” Boone answered.
“You don’t have to do that.” I wanted to make sure Boone understood that whatever his decision, I was behind him.
“I know,” he repeated.
“But you’re going to do it anyway,” I assumed.
“I will. What Sheriff Henson does with that information is up to him.”
“And if Sheriff Henson is one of the cops on the take?” I didn’t truly believe that, but wanted Boone’s opinion.
Boone’s head rolled my direction, his green eyes no less dull for their tiredness. “I doubt that. If he were, then why would he ask me to bring the other souls back? I suppose that’s assuming that this Vanja persona has something to do with their deaths also. Probably not all, but it’s possible some of them owe the end of their lives to this asshole. And if that’s the case, I doubt Henson would want their statements known.”
I shifted in my seat, trying to get more comfortable. Boone wasn’t wrong. “I don’t see Henson involved either. For one thing, I trust Tompkins, and he vouched for Henson. People deceive others so it’s not a hundred percent, but our limited interactions with Henson make me think the man’s too proud to take a bribe.”
Boone snorted. “Henson’s something. Proud is just one of those things. Honestly, I kind of have a love-hate thing going on with the good sheriff.”
“Care to elaborate?” I didn’t think Boone referred to any romantic feelings, but jealousy was a fickle, often irrational beast, and I wanted to quell mine before it got revved up.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, most of the time I want to throw one of Pops’s charms at the man. Probably one that would make him itch uncontrollably.”
