AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Something’s come up, alright,” André grumbled. “If he bothers to call back, do your best to encourage him to make our meeting.” André wasn’t picking up the phone to call him. His fuse was short this afternoon.
André knew he was lucky Carol had stayed on when he’d taken the chief’s position. Without her and Lani Cooper, he would be lost. Being the police chief of a small town required institutional knowledge that André was only just beginning to learn. Tip of the iceberg was an overstatement.
“Yes, sir.” With a nod, Carol disappeared back down the short hallway to the tiny lobby and reception area—her domain. She also was the head dispatcher—the only dispatcher. Another problem for André to solve. But not today.
He wondered if Trent thought he was fooling André. While he didn’t have hard proof for this either, André knew secondhand that Trent accepted “gifts,” and his paperwork barely passed muster when he bothered to finish it. Since coming on board in Cooper Springs, André had done what he could to keep Trent on traffic duty, but the deputy had gone to the union a month ago and complained that he had seniority over Lani Cooper.
Trent did have seniority over the town’s only other deputy. But, unlike Trent, Lani had the brains to do the job and wasn’t shady. Trent was shady as fuck. With the murder of Lizzy Harlow and the other, much older, remains being discovered—and he couldn’t forget the missing teen, Blair Cruz—Cooper Springs had trouble on its hands, and it was André’s literal job to get to the bottom of it.
Was Trent somehow involved in the missing and murdered?
André didn’t think the sixty-something deputy had it in him. He was more of a “skim it off the top and hope no one notices” kind of person, maybe skip handing out a ticket but get a free coffee next time he was at the gas station. Although he did drive a late model Dodge Charger, definitely not something a small-town cop could normally afford. All André had to do was think about the Green River Killer. He’d operated right under the noses of the police and his coworkers for decades. How many lives might have been saved if someone had just asked the right questions in the nineties?
His cell phone buzzed again, distracting André from his unpleasant meanderings.
Dante:There’s been a run on yogurt. All that’s left is eggnog flavor.
André gagged a little and felt his stomach do a littleno waytwist. Over twenty years since he’d gotten drunk on the stuff, and he still couldn’t stand the smell of eggnog.
A:No. Cottage cheese?
D:Are you asking or telling?
André rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, noting that an industrious spider had spun a web in one corner. He’d have to ask Carol where the broom was.
A:Cottage cheese. Not asking.
D:Are you sure? That shit has a weird flavor.
A:Just. yes.
D:No frozen pizza.
A:They don’t have any?
If the store was out of frozen pizza, the world was probably coming to an end. Had André missed the memo?
D:They do. It’s also shit. Mine is better.
André blinked. What was this conversation about? Was Dante offering to make him pizza? No. They hadn’t seen each other except in passing since that time Dante had stopped by back in October. André had made sure of that. There was no way he and Dante were picking up where they left off. October had been a moment of weakness.
A:All I need is a few Hot Pockets, something that won’t go bad if I forget about it.
There was no immediate reply. André set his phone down again and eyed the spider settled in the center of its web. On general principle, André didn’t much like spiders. It was the eight legs and creepy-crawly aspect that got to him. This one seemed content to stay as far away from André as it could get.
“Stay where I can see you and I’ll leave you alone,” he warned the arachnid, refocusing on his project.
Not too much later, Carol stuck her head in to say she was heading to lunch.
“Ned hasn’t been by yet, just so he doesn’t scare you when he shows up.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
Ned Barker was the postman for the area. He’d unintentionally scared the crap out of André early on, surprising him in the breakroom when André had thought the station was empty. Now Carol never forgot to let André know if the mail had been delivered or not.
Lionel Trent rolled in around midafternoon, hitching up his slacks and pushing out his chest in an attempt—André assumed—to appear intimidating. He didn’t bother to take off his hat or his jacket, either.
“Sorry, boss.” Not sounding or appearing sorry. “I had a family issue come up that I needed to help out with.”
