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Unfortunately, it would seem organized crime had made a bid for our territory.
Over my fucking dead body would I allow that to happen.
“Possibly. You should get down here.”
“Where is here?”
“One of the two-million-dollar bungalows right on the western shore. I’ll send you the address. You might want to bring a couple of antacids and a gas mask as well. The guy’s been dead for a few days at least, the struggle violent.”
That meant the body was bloated. My deputy didn’t usually find any crime scene intolerable.
“Text me the address. I’ll be right there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After ending the call, I bristled as I’d done after hearing about the second overdose. The epidemic wasn’t going to continue. Not in my jurisdiction.
I threw back the covers, allowing the anger to erase the exhaustion. As sheriff of this town, it was my responsibility to protect the innocent. It was time to go hunting for the person or group responsible.
And when I did, they’d rot in prison before seeing the light of day again.
As I moved toward the bathroom, I thought about the dream I’d been in the middle of, the very one I hadn’t endured in a couple of years at least. Why now?
The man from my past had saved my life, but he was no hero.
I’d learned a long time ago were no such things.
Just monsters lurking in the shadows.
In a town so small, nestled on a peninsula surrounded by mountains, very little went on without someone knowing about it. Granted, tourists were a mainstay, the ports used by smaller cruise ships and tycoons, some of the stunning real estate development done over the last few years catering to the wealthy clientele that funded our roads and school systems. But the locals were nosy, the people curious. That had provided aid in various crime activities over the years.
That’s the story I’d been given when lured to accept the job in a distant state, the glossy brochure I’d been sent tempting me. Living in such a small town was a far cry from the dirty, busy streets I’d grown up in.
While murders weren’t unheard of, they were usually due to domestic violence, theft given the poor economy or a random killing associated with an outsider. While the town didn’t experience entire days of darkness or light as so much of Alaska did, the longer days in the summer and much shorter in the winter did have an effect on people’s moods.
And their drinking.
I was more likely to be required to break up a brawl in a bar than investigate a murder scene. Especially ones of this nature.
As I stepped inside the posh three-story residence, I was taken by the luxurious environment almost instantly, including the works of art both on the walls and in the form of statues. As an avid art aficionado myself, I could easily recognize priceless editions, numbered paintings and hand-crafted designs. However, they usually weren’t a part of the local housing scene, including the residents that maintained their residency only a portion of the year.
Theft was something my team had been forced to deal with, the incidents on the rise over the last few years.
Whoever owned the place had wealth far beyond the typical means.
All I had to do was to walk inside the door and be assaulted by the disgusting stench, the odor reminding me of rotten meat. I pressed my hand over my mouth and nose as I walked further inside.
The living room was brilliantly decorated but now the walls were painted in red, blood having dried in long strings throughout the vaulted ceiling room.
It was macabre and my instinct told me it had been done after the murder had been committed. It was as if the killer was taunting us, leaving his signature for all the world to see.
I noticed Damon out of the corner of my eye headed in my direction, his coloration almost green.
“See what I mean?” he asked by way of greeting.
“You don’t look too hot, my friend.”
He rolled his eyes. “You haven’t seen the worst of it. Come on.”
