Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
R ose’s run-in at the cafe left her feeling vulnerable, on edge. She ran a hand over her left arm, then her wrist. Her skin was a fading mix of dark and yellow. The feeling that she wore a bracelet of ice hadn’t gone away.
All she’d wanted to do was go home. Common sense kicked in, though. She now knew who’d attacked her at the cemetery. This needed reporting.
Sheriff Darin Hutchins’ eyes held no warmth when she walked into the Evers Hollow Police Department. He looked her up and down. Perhaps he didn’t recognize her.
She held out her hand. “Hello Sheriff, I’m Rose Finch. I filed a police report a few?—”
“I know who you are.” He didn’t take her hand. Instead, he turned and walked away from her, past his secretary, who watched with wary eyes.
He snapped at the middle-aged woman behind the desk. “Coffee. Now!”
Rose lowered the hand she’d offered. She’d seen the sheriff around town, but had never spoken with him. He was a broad, heavyset man, and quite tall. She imagined some voted for him based purely on his height and breadth, along with his expression. It was pure menace.
He looked back at her, his words clipped. “You have five minutes.”
She followed him into his office, took in the utilitarian combo of gray and black furniture. He didn’t invite her to sit. Instead, he leaned back against the metal desk and looked at her expectantly.
She began describing what had happened. One minute into their conversation, he cut her off. “You’re wrong, Miss Finch. George Hindley is up in Gray Mountain at a transitional residence. No way he’s down here, walking around my town.”
She struggled to use a respectful tone. “Stan identified him, called him by name this morning. I watched him force him out of the cafe for what he did to me.”
He frowned. “Not possible. Stan’s got some of them cataracts, needs glasses.”
Rose matched his frown. Glasses didn’t fix cataracts. “I will go on record with this new information.”
His jaw clicked. “You always were a troublemaker.” He picked up his phone. “Who’s in the corral?”
Rose folded her arms.
“I see.” He hung up the phone and sneered. “Mack Daggett will take down your new information. But see here, little lady, I’ll prove you wrong.”
She sat down with Mack, then drove home.
Mack called her late that night, just before bed. They’d found George Hindley. He’d been nowhere near Gray Mountain.