Griffin studied the big man, his eyes so pale a blue they were nearly silver, his thick eyebrows salt-and-pepper like his hair. He was seriously out of shape, the buttons pulling over his big belly, his holster fastened to a big leather belt. He looked familiar, and why was that?
The sheriff flipped a large hand toward the cottage. “This here is Rafer’s house, used to be his uncle Cauly’s, but he got himself killed jumping his Harley over too many trucks, so now it’s Rafer’s. I don’t know either of you. I don’t know why you’re even here in my town, claiming Rafer was going to kill you, claiming he killed those three missing teenagers. We all know Rafer better than that.” He turned to Carson and spat at the ground in front of her sneakers. “And you, a woman, you claim you hit him on the head with a pipe? All right, this fellow here said your name’s Carson DeSilva.”
“Yes.”
The sheriff shrugged. “Well, not your fault then, is it? No accounting for what names people pin on their kids. First, I want to know why you’re making all these bizarre accusations. Fayreen told me everything the boy here said, and I don’t mind telling you, she was pretty upset by it all.”
Carson looked him dead in the eye, knowing there was no way she could tell him the truth. He’d lock her up for sure. “I overheard him talking to himself, muttering about the three young girls. He even said their names, and said ‘Amy died hard.’ Then he looked up, realized I’d overheard him. He caught me by surprise at the house I’m renting, before I could get to you at the sheriff’s station, he hit me on the back of the head, brought me here, and tied me up in his basement. I got loose and managed to hit him on the head with this pipe when Agent Hammersmith kicked the gun out of his hand. It all sounds pretty straightforward, Sheriff, but let me tell you, it was close. Rafer Bodine was planning to kill me, and he would have killed Agent Hammersmith if he’d been able.”
To her astonishment, the sheriff laughed, then spat again, this time barely missing her sneaker. “Well now, missy, that’s some story you’re spinning. You’re actually claiming Rafer’s a murderer, killed those poor missing girls? And you’re claiming he was going to kill you because you overheard him talking to himself, out loud? That’s crazy, makes no sense at all.”
This wasn’t going well. Carson had to keep going, no choice. “Yes, I think he killed the missing girls, he said their names—Heather, Amy, and Latisha. As I told you, he knew I’d overheard him muttering about them, and that’s why he was going to kill me, too.”
The sheriff looked at her like she was a bug to be stepped on.
“You know what, girl? I agree with Fayreen. That’s some wild tale. It’s time to introduce myself. I’m Sheriff Booker Bodine.”