had seemingly rose up out of the woodwork, a recent entrant into the race for county sheriff. With Trey’s stellar reputation and the endorsement of all the local businesses and local law enforcement agencies, it was a surprise—a disheartening one—to see how fast Evigan had amassed support against Trey.
At the heart of it all seemed to be the insistence that, as a Colton, Trey was in the pocket of his wealthy extended family. And on a singular occasion, Evigan had added in a subtly racist slur suggesting Trey didn’t have the smarts for the job.
Aisha had tried a few times to point out the man’s remark but Trey would have none of it, his only response that he was a Colton and they did have several unsolved crimes in his county. End of story.
Only it wasn’t.
She might be hopelessly infatuated with Trey Colton, but that hadn’t blinded her to his talents or his true nature. He was a good and honorable man and Bradford County was lucky to have him as sheriff. Trey ran a tight ship and, until the Avalanche Killer and all the ensuing madness surrounding the missing women, had actually reduced crime in the area. A fact the local tourism industry depended upon.
The Colton family wasn’t the only one to run a major resort in the area. The Colton Empire might be home to the largest, but it wasn’t the only place to ski or vacation. All local businesses that depended on the patronage of outside visitors had benefited from Trey’s steady hand and outstanding leadership.
Her gaze drifted over those horrible photos once more, the truth of the situation stamped in each one of them. No matter how much good Trey had done for the county, if they didn’t get a handle on this Avalanche Killer soon, his career was in jeopardy.
She’d be damned if she was going to let that happen.
* * *
Trey Colton rubbed a hand over the back of his head, the close-cropped hair against his fingers already too long. He’d needed a haircut for three days and hell if he’d had five minutes to breathe to even go get one.
“I wasn’t suggesting you dismiss Evigan,” Aisha said, her dark gaze serious. “But I think the people who know you and who’ve admired your work are going to continue to give you the leeway to do that work. If there is a serial killer on the loose, this isn’t something that gets solved in a matter of days.”
“We live in an on-demand world, Aish. People expect this is as easy as solving a crime in eight binged episodes.”
“Fact versus fiction,” she shot back.
“Or the skewed reality we all now live with.”
“Well, it’s a reality that sucks.”
A hard laugh escaped his chest. “That it does.”
And just like that, his best friend in the world managed to make him laugh and make the whole situation seem a little less dire.
People thought she was so serious, those dark brown eyes always focused a few feet beyond everyone else. He’d heard others call her aloof but he knew her to be anything but. Aisha Allen was an outstanding psychologist and a passionate advocate for her clients, always determined to find treatments to help them cope with their inner pain and struggles.
She was also his oldest friend in the world.
When they were together, he saw her less serious side. Silly, even, when she got going doing an imitation of one of his wacky Colton relatives or teasing him about a long-forgotten memory of one of the millions they’d shared together. And he truly appreciated her support during this whole Avalanche Killer crisis, as well as throughout the subsequent disappearance of his cousin Skye.
However, even with that support, he was in the midst of a firefight. That bastard Barton Evigan was a problem. Trey didn’t think himself above an opponent—the exact opposite actually. The people of Bradford County deserved a slate of qualified candidates for the role of sheriff. Just because he wanted the job didn’t mean he deserved it on a shoo-in.
But Evigan was something else. The man had little to no actual experience and when questioned on that fact he deflected and diverted the question, immediately going on the offensive on Trey’s record. Trey and his team had closed hundreds of cases over the past three and a half years since taking on the role of sheriff. A fact that was increasingly forgotten in the constant attention over a serial killer.
Which meant he had to work harder. Those poor women discovered on the side of a mountain deserved only his best, no matter what it took. Their focused search for his cousin, Skye, required the same.
Turning toward Aisha again, he tapped the closest photo. “Okay. Walk me through it again. What do we know from the bodies?”
“Assuming this was his only burial site, and that’s a mighty large if, the time between kills was significant. Nearly five years between the first two. Then several years between two, three and four.”
“And after?” he prodded.
“That’s where things pick up. Either the killer had a trigger of some sort or wasn’t able to slake his thirst.”
“Him?” Trey homed in.
“Figure of speech. Serial killing is predominantly done by males and should be your prioritization on suspects. But for the purposes of speaking to the press, no gender should be used.”
Trey didn’t miss the light wash of goose bumps that rose up over her dark skin. He laid a hand there, covering her forearm. “We don’t have to do this now. It’s late and this is hardly a topic that ensures a good night’s sleep.”
“We owe it to those women, Trey. And we owe it to Skye.”
“But—”
She laid a hand over his. “I’m fine. Let’s just push through.”
She was fine, of that he had no doubt. The woman understood the human psyche in ways he couldn’t fathom. A few summers back he caught her leisure-reading a biography of Jack the Ripper and when asked about it, she said the man fascinated her. That she enjoyed probing into the mind and trying to understand the mysteries there.
While he enjoyed it in his fiction, he wasn’t all that keen on having it in his real life.
Which made his next thought that much harder to say, yet somehow safe when voiced in a room with only his best friend for company. “Would you think less of me if I said I wasn’t fine?”
“No.”
“Because I’m not.” He pushed back his chair, the heavy scrape of metal legs over the linoleum tile a scratchy counterpoint to the drumming in his chest. “I want to be okay but all I can think about are those women. Worse, then I start imagining my cousin and what could have happened to her.”
Trey deliberately tamped down on that train of thought. They were all desperate to find Skye, but also determined to stay focused on the positive. She was missing but that didn’t mean she’d become the target of a serial killer. They had to believe her disappearance was the work of some other force. Something wild and crazy, just like Skye.
“I know.” Aisha nodded. “I know it’s hard.”
“I
