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The crowd outside the mayor’s office was a mess of noise and anger. Signs jabbed the air—Owl Killer, Fairness to the Birds. They were a loud bunch, getting louder as Jo and Sam approached.
Jo’s gaze fixed on the nearest sign, the words a blunt accusation. Owl Killer. The message was clear, the crowd’s mood uglier by the second. She could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to choke on.
Sam caught her eye, and without a word, they edged closer to the action. The protesters didn’t let up, their shouts bouncing off the buildings, calling for justice, for answers.
The cacophony from the Owl Protection Society cut through the morning air, their outrage over the unsolved owl murder palpable. Flustered, Mayor Jamison tugged Sam to the side, his voice laced with desperation. “Can’t you clear them out?”
“They’re exercising their rights, as long as they keep it peaceful,” Sam countered, his gaze fixed on the protestors. Jamison’s eyes darted to the police station, narrowing at the sight of Marnie Wilson. “Is that Marnie putting up her campaign sign?” he grumbled.
“Yeah, that’s her. I’ve tried to talk her out of it,” Sam replied, watching Marnie give her sign one final push into the soft earth.
Jamison’s face twisted with suspicion. “She could be orchestrating this spectacle,” he muttered.
Sam exchanged a skeptical look with Jo. While he doubted Marnie’s involvement, the dirty tricks of political games were not lost on him. Every move was calculated, and if Marnie had indeed played her hand in this, it was a shrewd one. Sam’s mind turned over the possibilities as he surveyed the scene, and he wondered how far Marnie would actually go to win the race.
If she was involved in the Owl Protection Society’s presence here, was she just taking advantage of the death of the owl, or did she have something to do with it? Sam doubted she would go that far.
A tall man stepped up to the group. He stood out in stark contrast with the casual attire of the townspeople. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his polished demeanor spoke of boardrooms rather than back roads. His hair, dark and perfectly coifed, caught the afternoon light, and his eyes—just as dark—swept over the scene with an unreadable expression.
“Good afternoon, Mayor,” he greeted with a nod that was both respectful and slightly aloof.
Jamison’s response was a narrowed gaze, tinged with recognition. “Victor, what brings you here?” he asked, his tone a mix of surprise and caution.
Jamison turned his attention to Sam. “Do you know Victor Sorentino?” he inquired with an undertone that suggested a complicated history.
Sam, who had been sizing up the newcomer with a lawman’s critical eye, extended his hand. “Can’t say that I do. Sam Mason, chief of police.” He introduced himself then gestured to his right. “This is Sergeant Jody Harris.”
The handshake between Sam and Victor was firm, each man gauging the other. Victor’s smile was polished, yet it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which remained cool and detached. “A pleasure. I’m the senior public liaison for Convale,” he stated, his voice carrying an edge of authority.
The man’s refined exterior, coupled with the underlying hardness in his demeanor, suggested a narrative far richer than his title implied. Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that behind Victor Sorentino’s cultivated smile lay a realm of unsaid words and veiled intentions.
“So, what does a senior public liaison do, exactly?” Jo asked.
Sam watched Victor carefully, a silent bet with himself that the title was corporate speak for someone tasked with making sure Convale’s image stayed spotless.
Victor’s smile never wavered as he answered Jo. “My role is to inform the public about our initiatives. I let them know what’s on the horizon, how we’re advancing our energy programs and ensuring they receive the best service at the lowest cost,” he explained, each word sounding practiced and polished.
Mayor Jamison, clearly still uneasy, probed further. “Why are you here, Victor? Are you part of the Owl Protection Society?”
“No,” Victor replied smoothly. “I just make it a point to stay abreast of the town’s significant events.” His eyes held Jamison’s, a gleam surfacing as he added, “Though it doesn’t seem to cast you in the best light, what with the election coming up.”
With that, Victor acknowledged Jo and Sam with a nod. “Pleasure to meet both of you,” he said before turning on his heel and walking off with a grace that felt out of place in the midst of the protest.
Sam’s frown deepened as he watched Victor walk away, the man’s presence leaving an uneasy echo. “Odd guy,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Jo nodded, her arms crossed as she watched Victor’s retreating figure. “Yeah, I get a weird vibe from him,” she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.
Mayor Jamison, who had been silent, unfolded his arms and let out a huff. “He’s always looming where he’s not wanted,” he grumbled, eyeing the spot where Victor had stood just moments ago.
Sam’s gaze swept over the crowd. “They seem peaceful so far,” he remarked, his voice laced with the tension of the afternoon. “If things get out of hand, give me a call.” He didn’t like the uncertainty of the situation, the potential for a spark to ignite chaos.
As Sam and Jo turned to leave, Sam’s mind was already churning, his thoughts returning to their main priority. “We need to stay focused on the bigger problem—finding out who killed April,” he said firmly, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.
Jo glanced back at the crowd then at the outline of the sanctuary in the distance. “And the owl.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Jo’s scowl was almost audible as they passed the “Marnie for Mayor” sign in front of the police station. “That’s kind of close to the curb. Hope no one runs it over,” she said, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement.
