stay at family gatherings and out of my office.”
“Wise choice.”
Steve glanced around before leaning in. “You’re unmarried, too, aren’t you?”
Sheesh, what was this guy, his mother?
“I work pretty much 24/7. Not a lot of time for a social life.”
“See, here’s the thing.” Steve scratched at his chin before sticking it out as if he were about to impart serious words of wisdom. “Voters love that idea in theory, a tireless public servant working on their behalf. But what they really love is a good family man. Add in a real sappy love story and they eat that up, too. Your opponent, now, he’s married.”
“Yes, he is.”
Without even trying too hard, an image of Barton Evigan’s wife came clearly to mind. The woman was as small and unobtrusive and on the few occasions he’d been in her presence Trey had observed her trying to shrink even more.
Aisha had mentioned the same the other night at his parents’ house, when their talk had shifted from the outrageously delicious cobbler his mother had made and beelined straight back to the town hall meeting. Aisha hadn’t outright said the words but he didn’t miss her concern that the woman was at risk of abuse, if not currently then at some point in the future, and Trey was hard-pressed to disagree.
It was a leap to think the man an abuser—and a mighty large one—but something about Barton Evigan didn’t sit well with him.
“You should get yourself a wife. It’d make this whole business easier. Distract attention and give you a solid, upstanding woman by your side each time that blowhard started talking.”
“I appreciate your suggestion sir, but—” Trey stilled, the words sinking in. “A wife?”
“Sure.” Steve shrugged. “You’ve got the looks and the demeanor for the job. Add in the family man angle and you’re golden.”
“But I—” Trey glanced over at Dan but the man’s gaze had shifted determinedly back to the images posted around the room, as if staring at six dead women was preferable to discussing Trey’s love life.
Or lack thereof.
“Look, Steve. I appreciate the advice. Really I do.”
The governor’s errand boy steamrolled over Trey’s comments as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’re more than qualified. The governor is a smart man and rests easy knowing Bradford County’s in your capable hands. Get yourself a wife, or a fiancée at least, and get through the reelection season. After things die down, go back to being footloose and fancy free if you want.”
Steve glanced around, despite the closed door, before he lowered his voice. “Hell, keep her and get a side piece. Happens all the time. Just put on the family front for the voters. It’ll do a world of good to help your chances.”
Trey didn’t catch much else, but shifted into autopilot to give his briefing—the presumed reason for the visit. The prep work he and Daria had done the night before worked in his favor and he got through the details on what they knew of the killings, their working theories and the overall progress from the ME’s office on the four as-yet-unidentified bodies from the grave site. In less than a half hour it was over and in another ten minutes, after final pleasantries over a doughnut, Trey saw the two men out.
He walked back to his office, still shaking his head as he closed the door. He strolled to the sideboard for another doughnut, then followed the boards, one by one, using the mix of sugar and grease to fortify himself. The terrible images should have cut through his thoughts but he found himself practically staring through them as the unsettling conversation rolled through his mind on a loop.
Married? With a side piece? Putting on the front of a happy, devoted family man? What parallel universe had he walked into that morning? Worse, had it become 1850? Because a huge part of him felt like he’d just been instructed to hunt up a mail-order bride out here in the Wild, Wild West.
Who the hell would he marry anyway?
He hadn’t lied about his single status. He’d been working so much the last date he’d had was four—well, hell, it was six—months ago. It hadn’t ended very well, either, with him running off to an emergency over at The Lodge. It was a party gone wild and he could have sent out a deputy to handle the matter, but at the chance to escape the date he’d jumped at the chance.
What did that say about him?
Trey walked back to refill his coffee, his phone going off in his pocket.
Aisha’s text filled the screen.
How’d it go?
He typed out a quick response. You mean the sneak attack straight from the governor’s office?
He saw the three dots for the briefest of moments before Aisha’s reply came winging back. No freaking way!
Yep. Gov’s head lackey. All neat and refined in his pressed blue suit. He looked like a game show host. Man was a piece of work.
Aisha shot him a few laughing emojis before she added another thought. What did he actually want? An update on the Avalanche Killer?
Trey considered how to play it. Even though it was Aisha and he rarely gave much consideration to anything he typed or talked to her about, it was embarrassing to realize just how long it had been since he’d gone on a date.
Would she think less of him?
She was attractive and successful. Although they avoided the topic for some strange reason, he expected she was out dating and painting the town red every chance she got.
Although...when was the last time she’d mentioned a date?
You there?
Sorry. Just busy. Why did he lie? Trey wondered. Since he’d already hit Send, he quickly tried to make up for the unsettling sensation of hiding something from her.
You up for dinner tonight? I have a rare free one and am craving enchiladas. I’ll give details then.
She shot back a series of tacos interspersed with more smiley face emojis, which he would have interpreted as a yes for dinner even without her response. Yes!!!!!!
See you at six at Maggie’s Tortilla House.
Later, and then she included an alligator emoji.
Once again, Trey was forced to admit the woman the world saw as intense and serious just wasn’t with him. She used weird smiley faces no one else ever did and had a bizarre fondness for the gator emoji. And she actually ate in front of him.
That woman back in April—no, it was February—had yelled at their waitress for bringing bread. Who did that?
Not Aisha. She kicked ass each morning at her kickboxing gym. She continued kicking it all day when it came to her patients and their welfare. And then she did it again when it came to enjoying herself.
As if Steve still sat in Trey’s office, whispering from the corner, his unsolicited advice seemed to swirl through
