How does a small-town sheriff track a serial killer?

With the help of his fake fiancée!

Running for reelection, Sheriff Trey Colton needs a bride-to-be by his side. Who better than his best friend, psychologist Aisha Allen? But as they start to play house, a serial killer terrorizes their beloved town—and targets Trey. The fight for survival brings an eye-opening truth for these “pretend” lovers—that love is precious...but death is only a heartbeat away.

ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-afters. After discovering she found as much joy writing about romance as she did reading it, she’s never looked back. Addison lives in New York with an apartment full of books, a laptop that’s rarely out of sight and a wily beagle who keeps her running. You can ind her at her home on the web at www.addisonfox.com or on Facebook (Facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox)

Also by Addison Fox

The Cowboy’s Deadly Mission

Special Ops Cowboy

Colton’s Deadly Engagement

Cold Case Colton

Colton’s Surprise Heir

Silken Threats

Tempting Target

The Professional

The Royal Spy’s Redemption

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Colton Sheriff

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09422-1

THE COLTON SHERIFF

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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For Allie Burton, Tracy Garrett & Lorraine Heath.

My best memories of Colorado

include the three of you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Aisha Allen took a slice of piping-hot pizza, folded it in half and bit in. Warm, gooey cheese blended with the tangy bite of tomato sauce, all wrapped up in a doughy pocket that was the very essence of life.

Which made it the perfect antidote to the increasingly gruesome pictures of the dead she’d stared at for the past three hours.

Six bodies. Or seven if you counted the body of Lucy Reese, aka Bianca Rouge, a Vegas prostitute inconveniently called to Roaring Springs, Colorado, the prior January to entertain a high-end client.

And Aisha was counting.

Technically, she didn’t have a right to the photos or the background details already collected by law enforcement. Her credentials as a psychologist extended only to the projects she was actually invited to consult on. But Trey needed help and since she was in a position to give it, she wasn’t going to back down.

Besides, it gave her an additional opportunity to keep an eye on him. He was her best friend and they hadn’t spent many days since the age of eight without talking. Even in the years she spent up in New York getting her “fancy Ivy League degree,” as he loved to tease her about, they’d remained close.

And if she’d like to be closer, well, that was on her. The man had his mind on other things, not his moony-eyed best friend. Their current sheriff and all-around most honorable citizen, Trey Colton, was the heartbeat of Bradford County. And he was in the fight of his life:

A serial killer on the loose dubbed by the press as the “Avalanche Killer.”

A battle brewing for reelection in November that was going to be horribly tight and already fraught with contention.

And an extended family that was...challenging on the very best of days.

No one would ever accuse the Colton family of being quiet, unobtrusive or unnoticeable. They collectively lived life large, and that would have been true in Roaring Springs even without the family legacy of a former US president who bore the Colton surname.

Having a legendary politician in the family only made the spotlight that much brighter.

Aisha knew Trey wasn’t above using the Colton name when he had to, but he hated depending on it. Just like he hated what was going on in his town right now.

Patting her lips with a napkin, she wiped lingering flour dust from her fingers and spread out several of the images. Six bodies, all in various stages of decomposition, from the more recent to practically nothing but bones. The two oldest bodies had also been discovered the farthest down in the shallow grave. Enough depth to hide them and protect them from the elements, but close enough to the surface that they’d been discovered with the impact of a late-spring avalanche.

Although all the victims would need to be identified and ultimately processed as individual crimes, the more recent bodies held Aisha’s focus. Especially the characteristics that appeared common. Eerily so, she thought as she pulled one of the photos closer. Sabrina Gilford, twenty-two, was identified as the most recent victim, her long, dyed dark hair and eyes two of her most distinctive features.

Along with the hair color match, she was roughly the same age as the other victims and she had the same physical build. Medium height. Slender. Petite frame. The sort of young woman who turned heads when she walked into a room.

A young woman was supposed to turn heads, Aisha thought, the frustration and anger for these unfortunate six rising up in her chest. You were supposed to be young and free and silly and sometimes a little stupid. You weren’t supposed to be dead.

And all these victims would still be missing if it weren’t for the overwhelming avalanche that still defied explanation. They’d had late snows before—Mother Nature was always unpredictable if nothing else—but this was something else. A large, prodigious disaster that had killed a ski guest at The Lodge as it did its destructive work.

A while later these six bodies were discovered during the clearing of brush and debris. Although two of the six had been identified, Sabrina Gilford and another young woman who’d gone missing in Roaring Springs the prior winter, April Thomas, Trey was working day and night to identify the others. It was maddeningly slow work and had kept Trey and his best deputy, Daria Bloom, in constant motion for months now.

And then, a few weeks ago, they had a new, potentially disturbing problem fall in their laps. Trey’s cousin Skye had gone missing. Marketing director for The Colton Empire—an enterprise that encompassed nearly half of Roaring Springs, including The Lodge, the town’s major ski resort—Skye was vivacious and always on the move. Aisha had met her off and on through the years at various events held by Trey’s parents and even now she could picture the once small redhead who used to race around Trey’s parents’ ranch with her quieter twin, Phoebe, in tow.

It was her busy, whirlwind personality that they were all counting on now. Skye rarely sat still and they’d all retained a stubborn hope that she was off on an adventure. Hopefully as far away from Roaring Springs as she could be. Only none of them could ward off the more disturbing idea that Skye had attracted the attention of the Avalanche Killer. Her vivid red hair didn’t fit the pattern, but beyond that, her slim frame and age were a direct match.

Thoughts of Skye were inevitably tied to The Lodge and the strange circumstances that had led to the discovery of the bodies. Even with his 24/7 work schedule running down leads, Trey had spoken more than once about the circumstances that caused the avalanche. He was so busy dealing with the voracious press as he tried to investigate the murders that any further investigation into Mother Nature’s vagaries had to wait.

Even as the freak incident clearly gnawed away at him.

The ski slopes were groomed regularly, specifically to avoid nature’s wrath in the form of an avalanche. Yet here was one, overpowering in scale and scope and late in the season, no less. It was odd. And it was one more thing on Trey’s overfull plate that Aisha knew bothered him.

She knew a lot of things about Trey. The broad shoulders that looked as impressive in his sheriff’s uniform as in a casual T-shirt while jogging around Roaring Springs. The firm cut of his jaw, lightly stubbled when he wasn’t on duty. Which was increasingly rare since he always seemed to be on the job. Or working on behalf of the role he’d sworn to uphold to the best of his abilities, even if that best had his delicious brown eyes bloodshot more often than not lately from lack of sleep.

Trey Colton was a man working off the very edge of his reserves and she was damned if she’d let him come up short. It was why she’d finished up a challenging afternoon session with one of her patients and raced over here. Back to the gruesome files and the endless clues that didn’t seem to go anywhere.

“Aw, jeez, Aish, don’t look at those.”

She turned at the rich, husky tones, unsurprised to see Trey standing just inside the conference room at the Bradford County Sheriff’s Office. She hadn’t let him know she was coming but had figured the scent of pizza would eventually give him an inkling that she was there. The fact she’d had three other pies delivered along with hers, for distribution around the office, would only smooth her way if anyone was bothered by her taking up space in one of their conference rooms.

“How am I supposed to help you catch a killer if I don’t look at the bastard’s handiwork?”

“Still.” Trey had already dived into the pizza, dragging out the half that was his—pepperoni and sausage with extra cheese. “Looking at that’ll make you lose your appetite. Not to mention any belief in humanity and basic decency.”

He took a large bite of pizza, momentary relief closing his eyelids to half-mast. “You ordered from Bruno’s.”

“Of course I did.” She reached for another slice of cheese, pleased to turn this time into a shared dinner. “Would I deign to order anywhere else?”

He grinned at that. “No. Of course not. That New York education was good for more than just a psychology degree.”

“Damn straight it was.”

She’d not only learned the ins and outs of the human psyche, as well as the proper ratio of toppings to sauce, while gathering an education in the Big Apple, but she’d learned a tremendous amount about her own heart, too. Despite what she’d always assumed about herself, it was shockingly fragile.

Breakable, even.

And she’d been unwilling to do much to risk it since. Pining over her best friend was about as far as she was going to go, that lingering hurt keeping her from making any moves to change the status quo between them.

“So what have we got here?” He polished off the end of his first slice and reached for another. “We’ve all been staring at the same photos for weeks now and nothing’s turned up. Other than time of death from the medical examiner and estimated ages and builds on all six women, there are very few lines to tug.”

“Sabrina appears to be the only local,” Aisha pointed out. “That’s a place to start.”

“Daria homed in on that, too. It would go a long way toward explaining why we haven’t focused on any missing persons in the search for these women at the point they were murdered. But they’re also unidentified, so that may be a false assumption.”

“But the few missing persons you ran don’t match the victims?” Aisha pressed him, well aware his trusty deputy would have been all over those runs in a New York minute.

“No.” Trey polished off the last of his crust. “But let’s play out your theory. The killer has been stalking victims elsewhere, then dragging them back to Roaring Springs like trophies. Why change patterns with Sabrina?”

“Serial killers do change pattern. It’s infrequent but it does happen. Maybe Sabrina was a replacement for the killer’s intended victim? Or maybe it’s a point of escalation.”

“There haven’t been any reports anywhere in the state of a young woman escaping a killer’s clutches. Isn’t it usually an incident like that when a killer scrambles to replace the victim, even if elements aren’t perfect?”

She and Trey had been over this already and Aisha knew she was grasping a bit. But everything in the details they’d found so far suggested things were escalating with this killer, who was growing even more dangerous than they had previously envisioned.

“Besides,” Trey spoke again, his attention on the photos spread across the table. “If you’re doing your dirty work somewhere else, why come back to the scene of your crimes?”

Trey’s insight matched hers, but Aisha hadn’t had a good answer for it. Was her theory about the killer escalating off track? The time between the fifth and sixth victims suggested her hunch was indeed correct, but it was far too big a leap to assume this was the killer’s only grave site, too. Colorado was a big, wide-open state and the vast, undeveloped expanses of mountain and forest would offer any number of places to hide bodies.

But... Selecting a local victim was still a break in pattern.

“The killer could be growing bolder. Hunting prey closer to home because the need is so great.” Aisha sighed and set down her pizza to pull the photo of Sabrina Gilford closer. “Which is the last thing you need the press to get a hold of. They’ll have everyone within a five-hundred-mile radius scared out of their minds.”

“One more thing Evigan can toss at me for all the ways my county is a public danger.”

“Barton Evigan is an idiot who doesn’t deserve to have gotten this far.”

“But he has.” Trey’s dark gaze met hers over the scarred office table and the sinister deeds it held. “He’s a true opponent for my reelection and I can’t afford to dismiss him.”

Barton Evigan 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 look around here and see all the beauty and wildness of Colorado. The mountains and the trees and all the wide-open spaces. I see it as a place to breathe. To find myself. And all those women found was death. Quite brutally, too, based on the forensics.”

“They did.” Aisha picked up the various photos and turned them over. “Classic serial killer behaviors of dominance and a deep desire to hurt another. To not only kill but to torture before doing so.”

“A coward who gets off on causing fear.”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“Right here. Under our noses.”

He let out a sigh, his gaze drifting once more over the box of pizza. The hunger that had carried him into the room had vanished and now he was left with a strange emptiness roiling in his gut in its place.

All of it had happened right under his nose. And if he didn’t get a handle on it, it was going to happen again. Of that he had no doubt.

Chapter 2

Aisha settled herself in the last row of the public meeting room at the back of the Bradford County Community Center. As county seat, Roaring Springs had a number of buildings devoted to local government matters, and this one saw regular use. Public hearings, voting and a host of other issues were considered, discussed and decided inside these four walls.

She’d never been a particularly large joiner, but she’d discovered her interest in public discussion once Trey had taken on his job as sheriff. What had begun as support of her best friend remained that way, but it had given her new perspective into the workings of local government. Sometimes mundane and often quite functional, Aisha had to admit it was never boring. And it gave continued perspective on her life’s work: human nature in all its glory.

Tonight’s agenda was an open discussion of the Avalanche Killer’s crimes and proposed increases in local law enforcement. Which was a bit of a joke since the FBI had already descended en masse to deal with the situation. This was their domain, and even though bodies hadn’t been found across multiple states, the Feds weren’t leaving this one alone.

Still, Aisha knew this hearing was a prime opportunity for Trey to make his authority clear to their citizenry. She saw several others scattered around the room, there to give him the additional support of friendly faces. His parents, Calvin and Audrey, sat in the middle toward the front. Close enough to be supportive but far enough away to give him space. His trusted deputy, Daria Bloom, was in the front row. She sat tall and straight in her seat, her uniform as immaculately pressed at six o’clock at night as it no doubt had been that morning.

Aisha continued her perusal. She eyed a few more people scattered around the room, including several Coltons, a few resort employees from The Lodge as well as the local hotel and spa, The Chateau, and a guy Trey had already pointed out to her as FBI, Agent Stefan Roberts.

She’d nearly turned her attention back to the front when her gaze alighted on the doorway and the last-minute entrant to the meeting.

Barton Evigan.

He strode in as if he owned the place, a smirk on his face. It was a step up from the perpetual sneer she usually saw there but not by much. He had a few people with him, a guy she recognized as his campaign manager and a slim, mousy woman who had to be his wife. They all took seats in the front row.

So not good.

Aisha pulled out her notes and scanned them once more. Although she and Trey had kept her involvement with the crimes to themselves, she had prepared a few arguments as a Roaring Springs resident who was concerned about the killings and who had a background qualified enough to raise the proper points. Nothing she’d prepared would contradict anything already publicized in the news, but it would put a clinician’s spin on the details in hopes of calming some riled nerves. Based on the rumors she’d already heard since walking in, the town’s citizens were ready to lock up all young women between the ages of fifteen and thirty in hopes of keeping them safe.

The murmuring that started behind her pulled Aisha from her thoughts, and she finally turned around, curious to what had created the hubbub. The meeting still had about five minutes until things were called to order so it wasn’t that slight buzz that swelled just before things started. It was only when a few people still milling around the back parted that Aisha saw the reason for the fuss.

They had a genuine movie star in their midst.

Obviously hoping to sneak in unrecognized, Prescott Reynolds had missed that mark completely. He had Phoebe Colton, one of Trey’s younger cousins, on his arm. Although the two of them presented a united front, clearly in love by their connected body language and close heads bent toward each other, their stiff shoulders telegraphed they were both uncomfortable, as well.

Aisha didn’t know Phoebe well, but the moment she caught the young woman’s eyes, she waved the couple over. The back row still had plenty of room, people anxious for any drips or drabs of gossip having filled in the front. Their voracious appetites now worked in Prescott’s and Phoebe’s favor.

Phoebe nodded at the invitation and in moments the two of them were seated beside Aisha.

“Thank you for the quick rescue,” Phoebe whispered as she settled into her seat.

Aisha didn’t miss the way Prescott’s arm wrapped around Phoebe’s slim shoulders or his clear protectiveness of her.

“Let me introduce you,” Phoebe said.

It was the work of a few seconds for Aisha to meet one of the world’s most recognizable movie stars. And although her heart had long beat for Trey Colton, she couldn’t deny its rapid speed at the heartbreakingly attractive face that stared back at her. Prescott Reynolds was warm and observably kind. Handsome as sin, too. The camera didn’t lie when framing his image, but if anything, it failed to truly capture his dazzling blue eyes or thousand-watt smile.

Despite the fanfare that seemed to follow him everywhere, she liked him instantly.

He was also obviously in love with Phoebe.

The two had gone public with their relationship the prior week and it had been the one thing that had given Trey a slight reprieve from the endless barrage of press. While a killer on the loose was and would remain big news, the romance of a major Hollywood heartthrob had added a delicious twist to the endless coverage in Roaring Springs.

Trey had also told her that the couple’s willingness to go public wasn’t just about their personal happiness. His cousin Skye was Phoebe’s twin sister. With her sister missing, Phoebe was desperate for any way to find her, and the constant images on the TV and internet were hopefully a way to draw Skye out. The thought was, if Skye had simply gone away on her own, she would see the news and get in contact. But if she were missing, there was a greater hope the publicity surrounding her twin’s happiness would draw out a killer.

A dangerous game, Aisha knew. Sadly, she couldn’t find fault in their logic.

The meeting was called to order, and the murmuring at the movie star in their midst died down as the town focused their attention on the front of the room. Trey came out, along with several other county leaders and the mayor of Roaring Springs, who acted as a moderator for these meetings and presented a connection point for the county seat and the broader proceedings in Bradford County.

The mayor set up the purpose of the meeting and in moments turned the mic over to Trey. He’d barely stood and begun to make his arguments for increased patrols, personnel support and the approval of overtime when Barton Evigan started in.

“Great idea. Spend more money on an already mismanaged case. Smart move, Sheriff.”

Trey never fumbled but even in the back row Aisha saw the narrowing of his mouth and the steel that filled his deep brown eyes. “We’ve followed protocol every step of the way.”

“This should have been wrapped up weeks ago. You’ve Keystone-Copped this from the start. Sheriff.” Evigan’s pointed use of the word sheriff clearly wasn’t a sign of respect. And while she couldn’t see his face from her seat, Aisha had no doubt the man’s smirk had vanished and that sneer was firmly back in place.

“We are in the midst of a thorough investigation over the death of six women. I’d hate to shortchange any of their lives or the crimes perpetrated against them out of a concern for poor publicity.”

Score! Aisha thought with no small measure of satisfaction. Trey had refused to go on the offensive with Barton but he had every right to defend himself. Pushing on the publicity angle was one of the best blocks he had.

“So in the meantime you put the rest of the town at risk for a serial killer.”

Clearly done with Barton and his taunting, Trey stood up. He wore his dress uniform, the starched press of khaki only making his shoulders look broader and more authoritative. “This investigation isn’t a TV show, Mr. Evigan. I’m not looking for a daily spot on the evening news. I want the perpetrator of these heinous crimes apprehended and put behind bars as quickly as possible. But I will not put this investigation at risk, making shoddy decisions over protocol, because of uninformed hecklers poking at the work done by the good men and women of my department.”

The tide of the meeting turned in Trey’s favor, several hoots and hollers swelling up along with the clapping. Evigan had enough sense to sit down but Aisha could still see the hunch of his shoulders. It reminded her of a wounded animal, biding its time as it waited to strike.

“Real charming guy,” Prescott said. “I can’t believe that clown is running for sheriff against Colton.”

His voice was low enough not to carry all the way to the front, but it could be overheard by the people sitting a few rows in front of them. Aisha had already seen their furtive glances back toward Prescott, and their excitement that he was in their presence. Although Aisha wanted Trey to win the reelection fairly and squarely, the clear endorsement in his favor, from an influential celebrity, no less, was a big help.

The meeting continued with little interruption. One of the town’s matrons asked about overall public safety with her grandchildren coming in for a two-week visit. Trey assured her they were on high alert and refocused her attention on some upcoming activities sponsored by the local tourism board designed for family-fun days throughout the month of August.

What he didn’t mention but Aisha knew was that the risk to children and families was relatively low. Unless cornered, the Avalanche Killer had a specific pattern in victim selection. Small children—thankfully—didn’t fit that MO.

It was only when Russ Colton spoke up that the room seemed to take on a new vibe.

“I appreciate all you’re doing, Trey. There’s no one in town I respect to keep law and order more than my brother’s son. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t air my concerns about tourism. The film festival last month had a few hitches, as we all know. My daughter Skye is still missing. How are we supposed to rest easy?”

“Oh, boy.” Phoebe whispered the words under her breath and reached for Prescott’s hand while Aisha raced over her notes once more, hoping to find something to diffuse the situation.

She’d barely stood, hoping to take the mic floating around the room, when Barton beat her to the punch. The obnoxious ass didn’t even wait for the mic, he just launched in with his latest round of shouting.

“Even your family’s getting worried, Sheriff Colton! If the big, bad, rich Colton family is worried, what does that say for the rest of Roaring Springs? For all of Bradford County! What do you have to say to that?”

* * *

Trey employed every single ounce of self-control he possessed not to lash out at Evigan. The man was a troublemaker, and while Russ had technically started round two, his uncle’s concern for Skye was palpable. His cousin had been missing for well over a month and the family was on high alert as to why she’d gone missing and desperate for some way to get her back.

The death of a prostitute earlier in the year had provoked upset, of course. No one wanted any whiff of murder in and around tourists, especially at the height of the ski season. But practicality had also won out at the time. The death of Bianca Rouge was deemed sad and momentarily troubling, but ultimately a blip in the high-stakes life that went on for the wealthy high rollers who stayed at The Lodge.

The death of Sabrina Gilford, however, had changed Russ’s tune. He might be willing to overlook a few dismaying events in the life of running a major tourism empire, but the risk to his missing baby girl was something else entirely.

Trey had always tolerated his uncle. His prominent family had given him both a privileged upbringing and a huge albatross around his neck when he decided to run for public office. The change in Russ over the past few weeks had been somewhat refreshing to see. Even if Trey hated the reason for it.

“Mr. Colton, I understand your upset and can assure you we’re all working toward the same outcome. A safe return of your daughter. A positive identification for the women discovered on the mountain. And a quick capture of the Avalanche Killer. The department is working as hard as it can to achieve all of those things as expediently as possible.”

“Yeah, right,” Barton shouted back.

Trey ignored the heckles and kept his focus on Russ, opting at the last minute to take a more personal tack. “What we need from you, Uncle Russ, from all of you—” he stopped, allowing his gaze to roam around the room, settling on all of the assembled townsfolk who’d come in for the proceedings “—is vigilance. We get a lot of strangers in and out of town as a tourism mecca. They come here for a good time and to forget their own lives for a while. We shouldn’t become suspicious of them but we should remain on our guard. Friendly but focused. Aware of who’s visiting us.”

“That’s your answer to catching a deranged serial killer?” Barton heckled again, this comment getting more murmurs and a few more “oh, yeahs” from the crowd.

Trey ignored Barton and pressed on. “The public’s safety is in our hands. And based on the bodies we’re still trying to identify from the base of that mountain, someone around here didn’t want to let some of the kind souls who’ve visited here go home.”

As public disclosures went, it was ham-fisted and clumsy, but Trey had vowed to share what he could, when he could, with his constituents. Nothing in all their investigating had turned up a local connection with the victims and Roaring Springs or, even more broadly, Bradford County until Sabrina Gilford. Which meant they had a different issue on their hands.

A local killer who captured—nay, depended upon—those who came from somewhere else to feed his bloodlust.

A muttered “way to kill the tourism industry” echoed loud enough from the audience to draw Trey’s attention, but it was the lone figure who stood in the back who redirected his attention.

Aisha.

She stood there like a warrior goddess, her lithe frame, strong from the kickboxing she loved so much, graceful amid the chaos of the meeting. Trey gestured one of the room’s moderators toward her with a microphone. Once she had the mic, she waited a few extra seconds until the room quieted enough.

“Sheriff Colton is correct.” Aisha let her words stand and echo from the speakers for an extra few beats before speaking again. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Aisha Allen and I’m a clinical psychologist with a practice here in Roaring Springs. I’ve consulted on cases throughout more than a decade of clinical work, and the thoroughness Sheriff Colton and his deputies are using to work this case is by the book.”

“We don’t have time for by the book!” Evigan shouted. “Not with a killer on the loose!”

To Aisha’s credit, she barely looked at the man. Instead, she pressed on, her tone authoritative and her focus absolute. “Identification is crucial to a successful outcome in this case. The care taken to preserve the crime scene and the bodies, in spite of a major natural disaster, is first-rate. The quick identification of Miss Gilford was solid forensics work. And the focus on keeping peace and order while hunting a killer is a testament to the man we elected. I’d suggest we allow Sheriff Colton and his deputies to do their work without our interference.”

Trey’s gaze drifted to Daria, sitting proud and tall in the front row, and saw the subtle, barely there smile that ghosted her lips. She rarely smiled but Aisha’s endorsement had seemingly struck a nerve. His gaze drifted on to Stefan Roberts a few seats down. The man had played fair with Trey so far, but he had little expectation the FBI wasn’t running its own op as quietly as possible, more than prepared to take all the credit for closing the case.

In all honesty, Trey couldn’t care less who got the credit—he wanted this done and a killer caught—but he had toyed with asking to collaborate. In the end, however, he’d decided he and his team would get further working their own side of things, bringing the FBI in when they finally had something to collaborate on.

In the meantime, Aisha was his girl and she hadn’t failed him once. Her insights were spot-on and even her ability to diffuse the tension filling the room was first-rate.

She maintained that strong posture as she held the microphone, her professionalism more than evident. “This is a difficult time for all of us. I have several patients who’ve expressed their concerns and the emotional impact of what we face as a community. Furthermore, I’ve spoken with my fellow medical professionals and we’re all focused on extending help and care to those who need it.”

The deliberate approach and Aisha’s willingness to make the discussion caring and compassionate took the rest of the bluster right out of the room. The murmurs quieted and Trey saw how people turned toward their companions, considering her words in low, quiet voices. The mayor took the opportunity of that lull in the discussion to bring things back on track and readdress the purpose of the session. Within a half hour, Trey had what he’d come for:

An expanded remit to add on overtime as needed.

Additional deputies sourced from surrounding counties.

And the agreement he’d wanted most of all: the ability to add on a civilian consultant to the work as he saw fit.

* * *

Aisha stood in the back of the meeting room with Calvin and Audrey Colton as they all waited for Trey. His parents had found her the moment the session ended, weaving their way through the throngs of people who hurried forward to the elevated dais in front.

She’d loved Trey’s parents since she was a small child, their home always a place of warmth and welcome. And animals. Oh, she’d loved the horses that had made their home along with the Colton family on a large spread just outside the Roaring Springs town limits. She’d always been welcomed with open arms, spending her carefree summers playing with Trey and his younger sister, Bree.

Aisha had worked hard to make friends at school as well—and had succeeded over time, still cherishing several friendships she’d had since grade school—but there had always been something special about Trey Colton and his parents.

For one, his mom looked like her. It was a funny thought—one she’d had less and less as she’d grown up—but one that had been important to her as a child. Attending college in New York had helped expand her social circle wider, but Roaring Springs, Colorado, twenty years ago wasn’t a particular hotbed of diversity. To have a woman in her life besides a family member who was also a woman of color had meant a lot to her.

As a result, her own mother had always understood and accepted her bond with Audrey Colton.

Although they’d remained close, Aisha had seen less and less of Trey’s parents over the past few years. The busyness of her practice and her ever-growing list of patients had made free time more of a luxury than she’d like, and it was lovely to sink right back into conversation.

“I saw your mother at the market a few weeks ago. She said Tanisha is expecting.”

“Late winter,” Aisha added. “She’s been on my mom to keep quiet about it and let her get to three months but has pretty much accepted that’s not going to happen.”

“Not if the broad smile and big gleam in your mother’s eye was any indication.” Audrey pulled her close for a warm hug. “Congratulations on becoming an aunt.”

Aisha accepted the affectionate hug and thought about her baby sister, planning the arrival of a new life early next year. They were all so excited, but it was hard to imagine bringing a child into the world when so much of it seemed so out of control. As a psychologist, she knew the desire to hunker down and shelter in place was a fight-or-flight response to the scary reality of a killer on the loose. But as a sister and a soon-to-be aunt...

She’d been struggling with how scary it all was. She could only hope Trey got a handle on the killer before anything else could happen. Or anyone else could be harmed.

“There he is. The star of the show.”

Calvin slapped his son on the back and Audrey waited before pulling Trey close for a kiss. Trey went willingly, sinking into the warm acceptance of his parents, and Aisha noticed, not for the first time, what a unit they were.

She had always been lucky to have her mother and her sister. They had struggled for money but never for love, the three of them forging a bond that would never be broken. It had been one of the hardest things ever to leave Roaring Springs and go two thousand miles away to college, but it was her mother who’d encouraged her every step of the way.

And it was her mother who, even now, pushed her to tell Trey how she really felt about him.

Aisha hated that she was so transparent and hoped that it was only a mother’s love for her daughter that made her quite so perceptive. She hated to think that Trey knew how she felt. Or worse...that his parents sensed the same and felt sorry for her.

How embarrassing.

Turning away from the threesome, she’d nearly made an excuse to go get something from the refreshment table when a loud, booming voice floated over them all.

“Well, look here.”

Barton Evigan had ditched his campaign manager somewhere in the room—or if the manager was smart the man had ditched his unworthy candidate—and had only his wife on his arm. The woman had the decency to look slightly embarrassed but it was quickly overshadowed by her reticence to speak or barely move in the man’s presence.

Aisha’s training kicked in and she was already thinking of a way to speak to the woman when Barton shot out more venom, his lips curled into a snarl. “Someone sure does have a fan.”

Sadly, Aisha was no stranger to racist remarks—subtle or otherwise—but the clear vitriol evident in a man running for public office surprised even her.

Before she could say anything, Calvin Colton was in the man’s face, his broader shoulders and intimidating height eclipsing Evigan. Even well into his sixties, Calvin’s fierce protection was something to behold. “Are you suggesting something untoward against my son, my wife and our dear family friend?”

Evigan eyed them all before gathering himself. “I was simply suggesting you Coltons all stick together.”

“Right.” Calvin spat the word. “That was your meaning.”

Although Trey’s dad had the height advantage, Barton still had youth on his side and it was enough to have his worse nature coming through. “You want to suggest otherwise?”

Audrey laid a hand on Calvin’s arm. She didn’t say anything, but her touch had the calming effect of diffusing her husband. He stepped away, his disdain evident as he presented his back to Barton. “Not worth another moment of our time.”

For the briefest moment, Aisha thought Barton was going to cause a physical altercation, hate along with something dark and oily filling his gaze, before he seemed to think better of it. He turned back to his wife, grabbing her by the upper arm and dragging her from the community center, her feet running double time to keep up with him.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” Trey turned to Aisha, encompassing her in the apology. “You did nothing but support me in there.”

“And I’m going to keep supporting you. There and to anyone who will listen.” Aisha moved up into his orbit, wrapping an arm around his waist. The solid warmth of his chest practically knocked every rational thought from her mind, but she hung on, determined to make him understand. “I’m in your corner, Colton. I always have been and always will be. Apologize again and I’m dragging you out back and trying my latest kickboxing moves on you.”

Trey hesitated momentarily, a sort of dazed expression filling his dark brown eyes before he blinked out of it. “Okay.” He held up a hand. “No ass kicking required.”

She held his gaze another moment before nodding. “See that it stays that way.”

It was Trey’s father who spoke first. “Let’s get out of here and go have some ice cream.”

“Dad, I’ve got—”

Audrey shut Trey down before he could make any other excuses. “Come on. We’re all entitled to some ice cream and the huckleberry cobbler I made this afternoon.”

“You made cobbler?” Trey’s voice grew animated, and with it, Aisha heard the tones of their youth. Trey Colton had never been very good at resisting huckleberry cobbler. Or any other kind of cobbler, come to think of it.

Audrey turned toward her. “Aisha, you in?”

“Sure.” She thought of the weight bag she’d have to keep after in the morning but didn’t especially mind. “I’ll suffer through an extra fifteen minutes of cardio tomorrow.”

Trey’s mother only shook her head. “You young people and your insistence on all this exercise. It boggles the mind.”

“You look great, Mrs. Colton.” Aisha eyed the older woman’s trim figure and still-slim frame. “You must do something to stay in shape.”

“I run a farm with my husband. Never once have I regretted eating ice cream made from the cows I milk or dessert made from the crops I grow.”

As Aisha followed Calvin and Audrey out to the parking lot, the two of them walking her to her car while Trey headed for his patrol car, she had to give credit where it was due. She’d never give up her psychology practice, but there was something to be said for daily physical labor and the fruits of that hard work.

An hour later, sitting on the Colton’s front porch, full of vanilla ice cream and cobbler, Aisha amended the thought.

There was something about enjoying the fruits of one’s labor. But it was even sweeter when you shared it with others.

Chapter 3

Trey scanned one of the reports on the discovery of the bodies on the side of the mountain and thanked his lucky stars, once again, for the ever-capable and awesome Daria Bloom. The woman was amazing, her focus and dedication for her job something to behold. He was fortunate for all of his deputies, the individuals currently making up the Bradford County Sheriff’s Office staff all strong, capable law officers.

But Daria was a cut above.

The two of them had stayed late the night before, prepping for the visit from local officials that was set to start in another ten minutes. Despite going over the materials until his eyes blurred, Trey had been back at it since six that morning, determined to make the meeting a good one.

And even more determined to make sure they knew he was the right man for the job.

He hated the fact that Barton Evigan had gotten under his skin at Tuesday evening’s meeting. From the moment he’d seen the bastard sitting there, all high and mighty and devious in his seat, Trey had known there’d be trouble. He wanted to ignore it. He was good at ignoring bullies and had done so most of his life.

But this was different.

The tone and tenor were the same, but the potential outcome had more far-reaching consequences. If he lost the sheriff’s position in the November election to Evigan, his replacement would take Bradford County down a dark road. Trey knew it in his gut and was only reminded of that fact each and every time he laid eyes on his opponent.

Tuesday night had been a perfect example.

“Sheriff Colton.” At the knock on his door he looked up to find Winnie Han, their dispatcher and fill-in front desk clerk during the summer months when vacations were in full swing. Although Trey had more than a few deputies offer to give up their vacations until the Avalanche Killer situation closed, Trey wanted to avoid that if possible. Tension was high and the scrutiny on their work was intense. A much-needed and well-deserved vacation was in order for everyone who had one coming their way. “The county supervisor is here.”

Winnie waited a beat before continuing. “And the private secretary to the governor.”

Well, hell and damn. A surprise attack.

Trey nodded. “Thanks, Winnie. I’ll come back with you and greet them myself.”

“Bruce Patrillo picked up doughnuts and boxed coffee on his way in.”

“Let’s make sure he expenses that,” Trey added, grateful for the support of his team. Even more grateful they understood the gravitas now that the governor had sent his highest-ranking lackey along for the ride.

Trey adjusted his tie, confirming the Windsor knot was in place just as he’d left it, and followed Winnie out of his office. They’d use the main conference room, transformed after his and Aisha’s review of the data on Monday night. He and Daria had used originals of the copies he’d shared with Aisha, posting them all on individual corkboards, lined up in the order each woman was identified by her time of death. Trey had looked at those boards so many times he could see them in his mind’s eye.

Could still see Sabrina’s face, her eyes staring sightlessly back at him from the photo, a reminder of how poorly he’d failed her.

And how much work there was still to be done.

Although he’d worked blessedly few murders in his career, he’d had a few. Each time, he’d thought the same. What a shameful waste of a life.

He felt the same now, only along with it there was a small ember, growing day by day, burning slow and steady beneath his skin.

Who had done this?

Who felt they had a right to hurt these women, playing with them until fear must have been a frenzy in their blood?

No one had that right. He wouldn’t rest until the killer was found, and he’d use every means at his disposal to capture the cowardly bastard.

“Sheriff Colton.” The county supervisor Trey knew as Dave Olson extended his hand. “Good to see you again.”

“You as well.” Trey turned to the governor’s senior assistant, Steve Lucas. “Steve. I’m sorry we’re not meeting under better circumstances.”

“Likewise. I’ve been following your career. The governor has, too. You have a unique constituent base and you’ve run it with ease, a deft hand and a fair amount of good humor, if the reports are true.”

“I try.”

“You do better than try, from all we’ve heard.” Steve waved a hand, but the casual motion was at odds with the tense set of his shoulders beneath an expensive blue suit. “Which only further reinforces why all this Avalanche Killer stuff is a bunch of nonsense.”

Trey recognized the campaign trail speech for what it was and decided the front lobby of his station wasn’t the best place to talk. His deputies were strong and loyal and avoided overt political sentiment most of the time, but no one wanted to hear their work so readily dismissed. “We’ve set up coffee in the main conference room. Why don’t you both join me there?”

Trey made a show of leading but put himself in front on purpose. He wanted to see both men’s faces when they first saw his boards. A few moments later, as they entered the room, he wasn’t disappointed. Steve’s polished smile fell, his eyes going wide at the prominently displayed photos.

The county supervisor looked no more comfortable, but he schooled his features, already having been present for the handling of the bodies and their removal off the mountain.

Steve spoke first, the initial shock fading as he moved closer to the boards. “These women? All were killed by the same person?”

“We believe so. There’s some concern about the sixth victim. Sabrina Gilford.” Trey clung to the use of her name, the lack of much else a continued challenge in their investigative work. Using her name, especially when he couldn’t for four of the six victims, kept them grounded. Focused.

And constantly reminded of the lives that were snuffed out. Lives belonging to real people with real dreams and real futures.

“Concern how?” Steve surged forward off the tabletop where he’d rested a hip.

“While the first four victims haven’t been positively identified, we believe the killer’s pattern has been to take tourists. The fifth woman, April Thomas, was identified because her mother pressed the issue repeatedly that someone search for her daughter. She believed April had come to Roaring Springs before she disappeared and once she heard of Sabrina Gilford’s disappearance she came here herself, seeking answers.”

And found a terrible one when the bodies were uncovered off the mountain.

“And the others?” Dave asked.

“We’ve scoured missing persons, widened the search nationally and have done our level best to collaborate with the FBI where we could. They’re not sharing much and we’re holding close to the vest as well, but I’m neither so shortsighted nor close-minded enough to ignore their vast resources. When they offered me access to their missing persons database, I jumped at it.”

“The Feds do want jurisdiction here. Technically they have it, too,” Steve said. Although the governor’s aide had regained his composure, nothing visible in his motives playing across his serene face, Trey wasn’t willing to take any chances.

He needed support on this and he wasn’t going to back down.

“I’m not trying to block them out, but they don’t know Bradford County like I do. Like my deputies do. Kicking us off this case would be a major mistake.”

“Whoa there, Sheriff. I’m not suggesting taking you off.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Steve leaned in, his focus absolute. “I’m sorry for these women. Deeply sorry. No one except maybe the governor wants the person who did this caught more than I do. But we have a state to run and tourism dollars to protect.”

“Yes, sir. I understand,” Trey said. He knew the way things worked—he’d run for office himself—but something in the response nagged at him. Was everything political?

At that thought, an image of Barton Evigan’s behavior on Tuesday night came flooding back in full force.

Of course everything was political. Anyone in public office had to understand that. And Trey knew it would be a poor time for him to get amnesia on that subject.

Seemingly satisfied by his answer—or lack of one—Steve resumed his seat on the table. His gaze didn’t so much as flick back over multiple boards but instead was firmly focused on Trey.

“You’re up for reelection yourself. I understand it’s turned messy?”

At Dan’s snort, Trey’s intended attempt to deflect the question vanished. “I have a verbose opponent.”

“The governor has had a few of those in his day.” Steve grinned. “I’d offer to help but you’re a Colton. I suspect you’ve got more than your fair share of that.”

“Actually—” Trey bit back his answer. He appreciated his family and the influence the Colton name wielded in this part of the country—hell, anywhere in the country—but it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Evigan had keyed in on his last name as his very first shot over the political bow.

And the whispers that had grown stronger and stronger since Evigan announced his candidacy had changed, too. They now carried a decided bent toward the idea that the Coltons were too powerful in Bradford County. So powerful, in fact, that his name was the reason Trey even had the job in the first place. A puppet in a position of power to turn a blind eye to his family’s business empire.

It bugged him. No, Trey amended. He was irate. He worked hard for his job and his constituents. If it were only a matter of gossip he’d see past it. He was used to people’s small-minded chatter and had long since stopped worrying about it. But when that chatter turned to questions about his job qualification or his integrity, well, damn it, he had a right to be upset. He worked hard at both and it was infuriating to have that questioned.

“My family is large and opinionated, sir. I do my best to ensure those opinions 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 the room.

You should get yourself a wife. It’d make this whole business easier.

Where had that come from?

Especially with his thoughts full of Aisha.

She was a strong, independent woman, not some small, shy mouse of a human who couldn’t stand up for herself. Or worse, who’d been pushed down so badly she had no idea which way was up. And she certainly wasn’t the type of woman to agree to a pretend engagement.

Engagement? With Aisha?

That was what he’d taken away from his morning visitors?

Since Steve’s visit had obviously shaken him more than he realized, Trey figured he was due for a change of pace. His early arrival to work ensured he had a rare free hour and he was going to put it to good use downstairs in the gym. A rotation through the speed bag, the weights and a bit of cardio would go a long way toward settling his thoughts.

He needed it, Trey thought as he grabbed his gym bag from the floor beneath his desk. Because for the briefest of moments, he’d actually considered asking Aisha Allen if she wanted to be his pretend fiancée.

Chapter 4

Aisha inhaled the warm scents of flour tortillas and gooey cheese and let out her first easy breath of the day. She’d waited all day for this moment and she was going to take a few seconds to enjoy it.

She’d earned it.

A patient she’d been working with for the past five months—and who she’d believed was improving—had a significant setback that morning. It had been a difficult session, followed by a discussion with the man’s wife about possible treatment options that went beyond office visits. It had been emotional and painful and the sort of experience she was grateful she didn’t have often.

And then her day had gone even further downhill after that.

The press had somehow glommed onto her comments from Tuesday night at the county meeting and had executed a surprise attack with an office visit at lunch. She was so incensed by their arrival and their insistence she give a quote about the state of the investigation that she finally had to have her assistant call the Roaring Springs PD out to help deal with the intruders.

Since that had stretched past lunch, it had interfered with a patient due into her office, and the sight of the police had sent her into a tailspin. It had taken nearly their entire hour to calm the woman down to the point of coherency, and after that Aisha had been tempted to cancel the rest of her appointments for the day.

So yeah, she thought to herself as Trey handed her the drink menu from the center of the table. She’d earned her sangria swirl margarita. Maybe even a second. And the ginormous plate of enchiladas that she’d already selected off the dinner menu, too.

“Tough day?” Trey’s question had her eyes popping open but it was the sweet, understanding look that softened the subtle lines around his thick-lashed eyes that caught her off guard.

It was those moments—those quick little shots of intimacy—that never failed to catch her off guard. He saw her. It was...well, something she’d do better not to dwell on.

Resolutely ignoring that quick shot of attraction, she shared what she could. “I’ve had better. But before I bore you with the nonconfidential pieces I can share, I want to hear about your morning. You had a rather impressive visitor.”

“The governor’s lackey hardly rates as impressive.”

“Well,” Aisha pointed out as she reached for a chip from the basket at the center of the table, “it wasn’t the governor. When he starts showing up, you know you have a real problem.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Trey said as he moved the menus to give the waiter room to set down their drinks.

“Bright-side Allen. That’s my name, sunshine’s my game.”

The joke had him smiling a little bit, but it couldn’t penetrate the heavy pall that seemed to weigh over him. They’d met at her office in Roaring Springs, then walked through downtown toward the southern end of the main drag. The upper end was reserved for any number of high-end shops and elite restaurants, but Aisha preferred the hipper and more eclectic choices at the south end. Besides, it was a pretty summer night to walk and she was going to need every step she could find after her enchilada fest wrapped up.

She picked up her margarita and considered a new tack. The lighthearted joking wasn’t working. And she knew that stubborn, settled look on his handsome face. Left to his own devices, he’d brood into his beer for the next two hours.

Which meant fixing his mood called for special measures. Time to activate Officer Do-Right.

“The press showed up today.”

“What? Where?”

“At my office. Some enterprising reporter read the notes of Tuesday evening’s meeting and decided to come grill me on the murders.”

“They had no right to do that to you.” He slammed his beer on the table, his golden-brown eyes narrowing. “No right at all.”

“Which is why I handled it and called for support in the form of the Roaring Springs police.”

“You didn’t call me. You didn’t even tell me.”

“I’m telling you now,” she murmured.

“It’s not the same—”

She lifted a finger, silencing him. “See how it feels?”

Recognition dawned, chasing the lingering anger from those golden depths. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s incredibly not fair. And it’s not what friends do. And for the record, I would have told you but I had a few patient emergencies that kept me occupied with necessary paperwork until about five minutes before you showed up. So.” She took a sip of her margarita, savoring the cold tartness on her tongue. “Your turn. Tell me about the visit from the chief lackey.”

“What do you want me to tell you?”

“What happened? What did they say? Are they going to send the Feds in like you worried about?”

That had become his most recent fear as the situation with the Avalanche Killer spun out. In addition to battling Barton Evigan and the overarching sentiment of the townspeople, Trey was worried about how far the FBI would throw its influence around.

This was his turf. His county and his people to protect. The Feds might want a big score, putting a deranged killer in prison, but she knew that Trey wanted justice for his constituents. He wanted them to feel safe and secure.

Was there anything sexier?

The thought slammed into her, unbidden, and with it Aisha shot a wary glance at her margarita. She’d taken only a few sips and her brain had already shifted to images of Trey in full warrior-protector mode.

It was one of her favorite fantasies and it usually involved the man shirtless, gun in hand, as he patrolled the streets of Roaring Springs like a Wild West sheriff keeping law and order. It was silly and stupid and she felt the blush creeping up her neck at the erotic images that had suddenly taken over her thoughts.

And her body, if the tension curling low in her belly was any indication.

“Aish? You okay?”

“Sure. Fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“It’s the margarita. It’s strong tonight and I didn’t get lunch due to my surprise visitors.”

The diversion had its desired impact, his curiosity over her flushed skin taking a back seat to the press intrusion. “I really am sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. It’s over and I lived to tell the tale.” She reached for her margarita again and took a tentative sip. “Which is more than I can say for the reporters who were chased off with their tails between their legs.”

“You looked positively maniacal when you said that.”

“I feel that way. Their presence disrupted my patients. The people who come to me in their quiet moments of need don’t deserve that.”

“No, they don’t.” Trey agreed.

And there it was, Aisha thought. They might feel the same way about the situation—even be angry about it—but they’d battle it together. “I told. Now it’s your turn. What happened this morning?”

“I don’t appreciate being caught off guard and it was a one hundred percent sneak attack.”

She nodded as she lifted a small fingertip of salt from the rim of her margarita. “It sounded like it from your texts.”

“It wasn’t his presence so much as what he said.”

Aisha wanted to be supportive but the unexpected ambush was one more example of all the ways Trey’s case had gotten out of hand. Did the governor think Trey was hiding something? Or worse, was he convinced the pressure of an in-person visit—from a subordinate, no less—would light a fire under one of the best sheriffs in all the state?

Because if there was ever anyone who had self-motivation down to a T, it was Trey Colton. The man lived and breathed his job and to have a stand-in for the governor just show up... It was insulting.

“You’re getting all flushed again.”

“This time I’m mad.”

“What were you before?”

Caught, Aisha wanted to say. But she bit her tongue at the last minute and pointed toward her drink. “Adjusting to the tequila.”

“Oh.”

He lifted a lone eyebrow at her, wiggling it before picking up his beer again. “We got off on a weird foot tonight.”

“You think?”

“I know. So let’s try again.” He put down his beer. “Aisha. How was your day?”

“Crummy. Yours?”

“The worst,” he said.

“Anything I can do to help?”

She might have left her poker face about three blocks away, but Trey’s wasn’t very visible, either. That same shell-shocked expression she’d seen off and on since he’d picked her up flashed once more, and for the first time Aisha began to worry.

What had happened earlier? Did the governor have information on the killer? Something known only to him?

“Trey. Come on, enough of this. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I think maybe we should get married.”

* * *

As proposals went, it was clumsy and stupid and just all-around bad. He wasn’t the smoothest guy on the planet, but he usually had more common sense than blurting out whatever was lodged in his head, drilling at his brain matter like a jackhammer.

The only problem was, he’d thought of little else since the governor’s lackey left his office. The gym hadn’t helped. Three hours of paperwork hadn’t helped. And a jaunt swiping left through his online dating app hadn’t helped, either.

All he could think about was asking Aisha to be his fiancée. Or his pretend fiancée, if there actually were such a thing.

Was there?

He knew things like that existed in wacky sex comedies and rom coms, but he had yet to meet anyone in real life who’d felt compelled to enter into a fake engagement to solve a problem. You didn’t solve problems by getting married. Or pretending to get married. Or asking someone to pretend to get married.

Only he did.

Or he would if Aisha said yes.

Having his best friend on his arm would solve a ton of problems and would at least smooth out one area of his life for the next few months. Because he was doing a piss-poor job of managing Barton Evigan’s full-on attack, finding a serial killer and identifying four dead women discovered in his county. The last two were going to take as long as they’d bloody well take, but the first...

Steve had given him an answer to that one.

“What did you just say?”

“I need you to marry me.” Even as mixed up as his day was, Trey knew that wasn’t quite the proper framing. “Hold on. Let me start again.”

When she didn’t say a word, only continued to stare at him across the table, Trey figured he’d better do some tap dancing. Fast.

“The governor’s assistant made several good observations today. One of which was that I had an extra vulnerability to Evigan because I wasn’t a married man.”

“Our governor actually has people on his staff who go around giving out advice like this?” she asked, before adding. “Presumably well-paid people.”

“Apparently so.”

“And somewhere between this morning’s meeting and a round of enchiladas you thought it was a good idea?”

“It’s not a bad one.”

“Trey!” she scolded. “These are our lives we’re talking about. Not some dopey play.”

“I know.”

“So what has you convinced this is even worth discussing?”

“I need something, Aish. Something to get this problem with Evigan to go away. And I’ve thought about it. We don’t have to be truly engaged. We’d just tell people we are. We’ve known each other forever. Hell, we know more about each other than most people who are actually married do.”

The curious flush he’d seen earlier on her face had faded, replaced with something that looked a lot like anger. Or no, he amended. Disappointment.

Did she think he was a coward, afraid of running against Evigan on his own merits?

Whatever the look, it vanished before Trey could call her on it and she’d already pressed on, ramping up speed with each word. “Just because we know each other well doesn’t mean people will suddenly believe we’re getting married. We’re not even dating.”

“What would you call this? Tonight?” He glanced around, the two of them sitting at their table like at least five other couples in his direct line of sight right there in the dining room.

“Thursday night dinner at Maggie’s.”

“But it could be a date. No one looking at us would think otherwise.” He continued to push, curious to see that her initial shock had worn off.

Was his argument working?

Because for reasons that didn’t make a single lick of sense, now that he had it in his head to propose to Aisha—even as a temporary solution—he wasn’t backing down.

“Even if I buy that, and I’m not saying I do—” she held up a hand to stop him from interrupting “—no one will believe we’re engaged. What would your family say? Your sister, who actually is engaged and who knows what that state looks like. Your extended family. Your deputies. They’ve seen you at work every night for the past six months. How did we magically begin a courtship that’s ready for marriage?”

“You’re at the office helping me a lot. They’ll think something blossomed that way.”

“Blossomed?” It was her turn to lift an eyebrow, one she used on him like a deadly weapon. “What actually happened to you today? Because if you don’t come clean soon, I’m calling Daria to ask her if you were hit in the head.”

“I wasn’t hit in the head. I’m fine.”

Only he wasn’t, which was the weirdest thing. And, oddly enough, he felt like he’d been hit in the head. Hard. To the point the world looked entirely different from when he’d woken up that morning.

“Trey. What you’re talking about is insanity. We’re friends. We spend a lot of time together. How is anyone going to believe we suddenly fell in love and decided on a spring wedding?”

She was right. Empirically, Trey knew that. So why did the image of her in an ivory gown, clad over that slim, graceful frame, suddenly fill his thoughts and tighten his body painfully under the table? He hadn’t looked at her in that way for years.

By design. Aisha Allen was a beautiful woman, one who’d grown even more so as she’d aged into herself. She was warm and competent and caring. She ran an amazing psychology practice and she was bright and confident in her work and in her life. And she was gorgeous. He’d figured that out when they were fourteen and had gone diving in the local watering hole. She’d let down her hair, curls springing around her face before coming to rest on her shoulders, and he’d been hooked.

It was that day he’d had thoughts about his best friend that he had no idea what to do with. Over twenty years later, he still didn’t know what to do with them so he’d buried them. And he’d left them buried so they couldn’t come out and ruin the very best thing in his life.

He’d missed her every single day she’d been away in New York. All that distance had nearly killed him, even as he’d known it was the best thing for her. More than that, it had been the right thing. She’d needed to go away and find herself. Find a world bigger than Roaring Springs, so when she came back she’d know she was home.

So she’d stay forever.

He’d dated while she was gone and in the time since and he hoped she did the same. As he’d reminded himself earlier, it was the one area they sort of had an undiscussed truce not to mention. But since they didn’t mention those things, he felt he had carte blanche to push his agenda.

Aisha was the key to putting Barton Evigan out of his mind for the next few months. An engagement was the ammunition he needed to squelch the man’s shot at winning the election. And it was the path to changing perceptions of Sheriff Trey Colton in Bradford County.

And if he had to keep those thoughts hidden—the ones about his lingering attraction that gripped his insides with a tight, unrelenting fist—then he’d do it.

He’d been doing it for as long as he could remember and he was good at it. A world champion grave digger of emotions. He’d kept his feelings buried this long, and he could do it longer. As long as he needed to, in fact.

Reelection was only three months away.

How hard would it be?

* * *

Aisha had finished her plate of enchiladas and her second margarita and she was still as heartsick as the moment Trey had laid his idiotic notion of a fake engagement on her. Only now she could add indigestion into the mix.

A fake engagement? Had she somehow woken up in a Sunday afternoon couch movie? Because who suggested those things? Certainly not by-the-book Trey Colton.

Never him.

Which made the fact she was actually considering his cockamamie suggestion scary as hell.

And wildly exhilarating.

Engaged to Trey? It was like every fantasy she’d ever had, coming true over chips and salsa. She’d sat there, staring at him, and he’d popped out with that proposal. Or sort of one. Which still had her blood pumping and her brain a bit fuzzy two hours later.

What was in that margarita?

Only as they walked back up through town, meandering their way toward their cars still parked at her office, she had to admit to herself that her fantasy had holes. Big ones.

For starters, they weren’t in love. Or he wasn’t. Her long-suppressed feelings weren’t the basis for a successful engagement. Or fake engagement. A faux-gagement? Continuing down this path was only going to lead to heartbreak.

But it would help him.

That acknowledgment had swirled in her mind since his proposal and it was the one piece in of all this she couldn’t effectively fight. It was actually the only thing.

What would her mother think? Or Tanisha? Or Trey’s family. It was all well and good to say the two of them knew the lay of the land, but if they went around telling everyone the situation was fake, somehow the news would leak back to Evigan and all their maneuvering would be lost. Which meant the only alternative was lying to their loved ones.

Her mother wouldn’t understand. LaShanna Allen was so supportive over so many things, but when it came to Trey Colton she had a blind spot. Her mother had never made it a secret that she wanted Aisha to end up with Trey and no amount of protests that the two of them weren’t meant to be together had deterred LaShanna. Telling her mother she was engaged to Trey would start a veritable storm of emotion the woman might not recover from. And when the inevitable breakup came—hello, because it was all fake!—Lord deliver her from the wrath.

Aisha was still so deep in her thoughts she barely registered Trey’s motions until he was on top of her. His arms wrapped around her and he half walked beside her, the move looking for all the world like two lovers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other as they walked. It was only when he shoved her into the alcove doorway of a small wine bar that was still in high swing for an August evening that she realized he wasn’t testing out his fiancée theory.

“Trey?” She tried to protest but he kept moving, pushing her through the door and into the bar. The lighting was subdued but the energy was high, happy conversations echoing all around them.

“Give me a minute,” Trey ordered. “Stay right here.”

She did as he asked, still stunned at the abrupt duck into the bar. Even more stunned by the warmth in Trey’s arms as they came around her like tight bands. Her eyes had barely adjusted to the dim lighting when he strode back in the door. “What’s going on?”

“I thought I saw something.”

Willing the lingering imprint of his hands against her skin from her mind, Aisha asked, “What sort of something?”

“A guy in a car. I noticed him earlier when I went out for a sandwich at lunch and then saw him again when we came out of Maggie’s. It was weird.”

“Do you think he’s following you?”

“I don’t know. It’s no crime to sit in a car on the street.”

“Maybe not, but it’s also not a crime to trust your gut.” Aisha wanted to get out there and see for herself, but something held her back. “You didn’t need to shove me in here to go check it out. You could have whispered to me what was going on.”

“I had no idea what he’d do.”

“Exactly. You’re not in uniform right now. Your gun’s locked safely away. How did you think you were going to protect yourself?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m a trained law officer.”

“And I’m a trained psychologist. Someone aiming to do you harm will find a way.”

And there—right there—was the heart of the matter. Although she trusted Trey’s skills implicitly, the events of the past few months had worried her like no other time since he’d gone into law enforcement. The man put himself in peril every day and now he’d likely caught the eye of a cold-blooded madman. If the Avalanche Killer had grown even more dangerous—and she knew from the photos he had—the risk to Trey had only grown. Standing in the way of an escalating serial killer? One whose need to kill had grown and expanded?

It was lethal work.

Work made even harder by the fact that the killer had honed his skills over many years. He no doubt was eating up the news coverage reporting daily on his crimes. And it was Trey Colton who represented capture if he found a way to end the Avalanche Killer’s ride to fame and glory.

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