Page 74 of Deadly Deception
“I would like to meet thisMyers,” Aurelia said. I hadn’t even noticed she was in the corner of the kitchen and wondered if she’d been there the whole time or just popped in. Regardless, the fact no one so much as glanced her direction indicated I was the only one that could see or hear her.
“Marcus Myers? The previous sheriff?” Henson said. “What does he have to do with—”
“Everything!” Sara spat, losing visible control for the first time. The woman at the island momentarily tensed. Paying more attention, I realized she’d been tense the whole time. Sara’s outburst simply highlighted her barely-concealed anxiety.
Running her hands over her loose ponytail, Sara’s eyes slid closed as she regained her composure. When her eyes opened again, they were shimmering blue pools of calculation. “Myers was a narcissistic ass. Nothing was ever his fault. He lorded over the precinct like he’d been given the authority of God. The man was despicable.”
Henson nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me. Marcus Myers was one of the main reasons I ran for sheriff.”
Sara’s smile was soft and held a hint of gratitude. “I know, Alfonse. Unfortunately, your election was too little, too late. By then, the damage had been done.”
“What damage?” Franklin asked.
Sara’s weight shifted and her face twisted in pain. “Damage to my body, my career, my pride, and most importantly, my bank account.” Hands flat on the counter, Sara leaned across the surface. “Myers ordered me to investigate a location. The backup he promised never came. He failed to put in the request. I was outnumbered and outgunned. Do you know why I survived at all?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t even certain what situation Sara had been sent into. Maybe it didn’t matter. The point was she hadn’t been enough, much like the three of us wouldn’t be enough now.
“Uncle Shane,” Sara fondly answered. “I was a fool, but I wasn’t a complete one. I knew what Myers was like and before I went into that hellhole, I called Uncle Shane. My retired uncle, a calvary of one. In this case, one was thankfully enough. Uncle Shane got me out and to a hospital. The doctors saved my life, but the damage was too extensive to completely heal.” With a sneer, Sara said, “I was placed on desk duty. My pay was cut and the department refused to pay my medical bills. Do you know why?”
Again, I shook my head. Henson had an answer. “You were cited and brought before a judiciary panel. Myers claimed you disregarded orders to wait for backup. In fact, he went so far as to say he’d explicitly told you not to raid the house. He even said you weren’t technically on duty.”
Sara slammed her hand against the counter. I jumped. So did the lady sitting there. The guy by the French doors tensed but not much else. Franklin and Henson were solid rocks of envious stone.
“Wasn’t there an investigation?” I asked.
“Oh, there was, but Myers doctored the evidence. It was my word against his, and the bullshit authorities chose his.” Sara stood taller and spread her hands wide. “And thus, here we are.”
I couldn’t exactly make the mental leap. Franklin made it for me. “If you can’t beat ’em—”
“Join them and do a better fucking job than everyone else.” Sara smiled while reaching for her mug of coffee. She brought it to her nose and inhaled, obviously enjoying the aroma. After swallowing a significant amount, she set the mug back down and fixed her gaze back on Henson. “Why build a reputation from scratch when the bogeyman’s already so well known?”
I could practically hear Henson’s jaw crack. “Vanja’s dead. Gone and buried.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Sara waved her index finger in the air. “Dead maybe. Buried, no.” Sara’s gaze heavily landed on me as she said, “Cremated, and I’ve got his ashes.” Sara’s eyes traveled past me into the connected family room. I twisted, following her gaze. It wasn’t difficult to see where her attention laid. The room had a fireplace, an old wooden mantle stretched over its length. And there, sitting atop the mantle, was a rather nondescript urn.
My heart plummeted as the realization dawned on me. “Vanja, I presume,” I said, my voice toneless.
Sara’s grin stretched across her face. “You assume correctly.”
“How in the hell do you know those are his ashes?” Henson asked. “Those could be anyone’s. Queen Millicent killed Vanja. I hardly think she would have taken the time to burn the man. There are at least fifty stories regarding Vanja’s end, and all of them are different.”
“I’ll admit, it took some time weeding out the rot from the truth. Imagine how disappointed I was when I found out Vanja had been cremated.” Sara shook her head, appearing truly distressed. “I knew it was a long shot, searching for his body. Even if I found it, I’d need a necromancer to bring back Vanja’s soul. Finding a necromancer is difficult enough. Finding one that’s not insane is yet another obstacle. Finding one that can truly bring back the dead… Now there’s a trick. And then when I did locate Vanja, it wasn’t his body but his cremains. I’d given up hope at that point.”
“Hope for what?” Franklin asked. “What do you want from Vanja? The man was as psychopath.”
“A very wealthy psychopath,” Sara answered with a grin.
“Fuck. You’re looking for his loot,” Henson said. “You actually believe it exists.”
“Oh, it exists all right. Vanja might have been a sadistic bastard, but he wasn’t stupid.”
“Thinking Queen Millicent would change him into a vampire simply because he ordered her to sounds pretty stupid to me,” I pointed out.
“I won’t argue with that,” Sara agreed. “Vanja overestimated his value, but not his wealth. No way would he have planned on living a vampiric life as a pauper. Vanja’s treasure is out there, and I plan to find it.” This time, Sara’s grin was as malicious as her actions. “With a little help from the very capable necromancer that’s landed on my doorstep.”
I hadn’t exactlylandedanywhere. Been cajoled and blackmailed into walking through Sara Tompkins’s door was more like it.
Thinking of blackmail… “What does Navarre have to do with anything? Or Tabitha?”
