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Stilton made the same broad gesture toward the kitchenette as he sank back into his chair.

“Thank you kindly.” Bible’s boots scuffed the tiles as he crossed the floor and poured himself a cup. “We don’t wanna keep you too long, Chief Cheese. Why don’t you hand us over your report and we can bring it back later?”

Stilton looked confused. “Report?”

Bible looked confused, too. “I thought you’d been here for a while? Maybe your predecessor left something we can take a look at?”

Stilton’s tongue darted out between his lips. “Look at what?”

“Your file on the judge.”

Stilton shook his head. “What file?”

“Oh, I see. My bad.” Bible turned away from the chief, explaining to Andrea, “Most times, local cops keep an active file on anything unusual that’s happened in the vicinity of a federal judge’s home—strangers hanging around, cars parked on the street too long, that kind of thing. It’s just something you typically do when you’ve got a high-value target in your jurisdiction.”

Andrea slipped her phone back into her pocket, feeling a wave of shame for taking it out in the first place. Bible was showing her how it should’ve been done. Instead of ignoring the jerk, she should’ve reminded Stilton that she was a federal agent and he was a dipshit.

Bible asked the chief, “What about suicides? You got any lately? Don’t have to be successful.”

“I …” Stilton was thrown again. “There’s been a couple of girls over at the hippie-dippie farm. One cut her wrists. This was about a year and a half ago. Then during the Christmas holidays, another one was pulled out of the ocean cold as an iceberg. Both of them ended up fine. They were just looking for attention.”

“The hippie-dippie farm,” Bible repeated. “What’s that now?”

“It’s about six miles off the coastal road, less than a mile as the crow flies. Smack on the edge of the county line.”

“The place with all the rainbow-colored buildings?”

“That’s the one,” Stilton confirmed. “They’ve been doing some kind of hydro-organic shit out there for years. Lots of international students live there during internships. They’ve got dorms, a mess hall, a warehouse. Looks like an excuse for free labor if you ask me. We’re talking mostly female students. Very young. Far from home. Recipe for disaster.”

“Hence the two attempted suicides.”

“Hence.”

Andrea watched Stilton shrug. She wanted to shrug, too. She had no idea why Bible was interested in suicides.

“All right.” Bible put his coffee mug on the table. “Thank you for your time, sir. Let me give you one of my cards. I’d appreciate it kindly if you’d let me know if another suicide pops up.”

Stilton studied the card Bible slapped on the table. “Sure.”

“We’ve got a twenty-four-hour detail at the judge’s house, in case you hadn’t noticed. Two all day long, two through the night. Me, I like to sit on the front porch with a shotgun. Call it an intruder deterrent. Off hours, we’re quartered at the motel just up the road. Give us a holler if you need anything and we’ll do the same.”

Stilton looked up from the card. “That it?”

“That’s it.” Bible clapped him on the back. “Thanks for the help, Chief Cheese.”

Andrea silently followed Bible back through the lobby and outside the building. She weighed her options as they walked down the stairs single file. He had thrown her into the deep end. She had sunk like a rock with an anvil chained around its neck. She was only a few hours into her real job and she was already failing.

Bible stopped on the sidewalk. “So?”

There was no way around the truth. The instructors had drilled it into them twenty-four/seven that the first thing they had to do was establish authority. If Andrea couldn’t grab a small-town cop’s respect, she’d never be able to do it with a bad guy.

Andrea told Bible, “I screwed up. I let him get to me when I could’ve worked to bring him on side. We might need him one day.”

“What’d he do to piss you off?”

“Called me sweetheart and made fun of my accent.”

Bible laughed. “Well, it’s a hell of a thing, Oliver. Freezing him out is one way to go. I’ve seen it work before. I’ve seen some gals, they lean into it, call him honey right back, maybe get a little flirty.”


Tags: Karin Slaughter Andrea Oliver Thriller