The Killer You Know. Kimberly Van Meter

air was damp. This was the kind of weather that got stuck in your lungs and stayed there throughout the winter, as storms lashed the seas and battered the coast.

      He parked outside the sheriff’s department, choosing to go straight to the authorities before checking into his hotel.

      A lone seagull screeched and he glanced at the bird. After losing Spencer, the sound had always creeped him out.

      Silas walked over to where the dispatcher sat behind a heavy glass window and flashed his credentials.

      “Special Agent Silas Kelly here to see the sheriff about the recent Seminole Creek murder investigation.”

      The woman behind the glass gave Silas a once-over but buzzed the sheriff.

      Moments later Sheriff Lester Mankins appeared, looking older, grayer, with more lines on his face, but certainly the same guy he remembered from when he’d been a misguided teen, acting out from grief.

      He would’ve thought that Mankins would’ve retired by now.

      “As I live and breathe... Silas Kelly, the most stubborn, angry cuss that I’d ever dragged by the scruff of the neck down these halls. How are you, son?”

      And just like that he was fourteen again. Silas struggled against the pinch in his sternum and extended a hand. “Can’t complain, Sheriff. How about you? Why haven’t you retired yet? Isn’t there some fish out there with your name on it?”

      “Every damn weekend,” he joked, patting Silas heartily on the back. “C’mon back. Let’s talk in my office.”

      Silas followed Mankins and took a seat once the office door was shut behind them.

      Mankins spoke first. “I can only imagine that you’re here because of that poor girl we fished out of Seminole Creek early this morning. Bad news surely does travel fast.”

      Silas confirmed with a nod.

      Mankins sighed. “I figured. But I gotta say, seems a little out of federal jurisdiction. Tragic as it is, the case is likely just a grim statistic. Girls find themselves in bad situations and things get out of hand.”

      “Is that what you think happened?”

      The sheriff shrugged, spreading his hands. “Well, it’s how the case presents at first blush.”

      “I’d like to see the case file.”

      “Hold on, hold on, big shot. My investigating officer hasn’t even had time to put thought to paper. Have you checked into your hotel yet?” At Silas’s head shake, he said, “Well, how about you get checked in, go eat some chowder, warm up your bones and then tomorrow morning we’ll see how things look.”

      Silas hated waiting. “I’d like to pull my brother’s cold case.”

      That caused Mankins to do a double take. “Whatever for, son? Let the boy rest in peace. There’s no sense in dredging up painful memories.”

      “I can appreciate that, Sheriff. But I think the two cases might be linked.”

      “And why would you think that?” Mankins asked. “Your brother disappeared almost twenty years ago and there’s been nothing like that since. This girl has nothing in common with your little brother. Whoever did that terrible thing to Spencer...they’re long gone. I can almost guarantee it.”

      Silas didn’t believe that, no matter how many people had suggested the same theory.

      It was too random.

      Most murders were rarely random.

      “If it’s all the same...I’d like to pull the files.”

      Mankins heaved a sigh as if Silas were chasing ghosts and wasting his time but he pressed a button on his phone, saying, “Janice, can you get Hanford to go into the archive and pull all the files pertaining to Spencer Kelly? He’s likely gonna have to go to storage. I don’t think they’re still in the building.”

      “Yes, Sheriff.”

      Mankins leaned back. “Satisfied?”

      “Thank you.”

      “Look, those files aren’t going to be ready until tomorrow, either. So either way, you’re going to have to cool your jets, get settled in and try to enjoy the salty air. Does wonders for the soul.”

      Silas had no plans to wander the streets, drinking in the sights or the ambience. He was here for one purpose—to determine if this girl’s case had any connection to Spencer’s.

      “What can you tell me about the victim?”

      “It’s the damnedest thing. Good kid. Comes from a great family. Her name is Rhia Daniels, sixteen, popular, pretty. Cheerleader, academic scholar, volunteers at the animal shelter, hell, she’s the poster child for the all-American teenager. We’re running into a brick wall as to who might want to hurt the poor girl.”

      “Looks can be deceiving,” Silas murmured. “What do you know about the family?”

      “Solid. Good people. They didn’t deserve something like this.”

      How many times had he thought the very same thing when delivering bad news to grieving parents?

      No one deserved to lose a child.

      Mankins switched gears. “How’s your mama? She still in Florida?”

      “Yes, sir. Loves the sun, sand and the fact that when it rains, it’s sunny five minutes later.”

      “And your dad?”

      “He passed a few years ago.”

      “I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good man. How about your brothers?”

      Silas knew polite conversation was expected but he had little interest in chewing the fat. He kept his answers short. “All well. Thank you.”

      “It’s a damn shame your family didn’t stay local. The Kellys are good folk.”

      Port Orion had lost its charm after Spencer died. His parents split and soon as the boys were done with school, the Kellys put Port Orion in their rearview.

      Too many memories.

      Too many unanswered questions.

      He rose. “Thank you for your indulgence. I’ll try to stay on the peripheral. When is the autopsy scheduled?”

      “Tomorrow morning.”

      “I’ll check in afterward.”

      “I wish it were under better circumstances, but it’s good to see you again,” Mankins said. “You turned out pretty good.”

      Silas accepted the comment with a subtle nod and a definite burn in his cheeks. Sheriff Mankins had been one of the people who’d seen a kid eaten by grief and guilt instead of the little shit that everyone else thought he was.

      And now, seeing Mankins again, brought back all those feelings he’d long since put to bed.

      He’d never properly thanked Mankins for his help. But now wasn’t the time. Silas wanted to keep things professional.

      “It’s good to see you,” Silas offered by way of goodbye then saw himself out.

      He drew a deep breath once outside the station. It felt as if an elephant was sitting on his chest.

      Silas hadn’t expected to see Mankins still serving as sheriff. But hell, nothing changed in Port Orion it seemed, so why would he assume that Mankins would be retired?

      Port Orion wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. Aside from Spencer’s abduction and murder and now this young girl, Port Orion was the picture of tranquility.

      But what Silas had learned through his investigations with the FBI was that nothing was perfect. There was no perfect family, no perfect town.

      Everyone