The Colton Sheriff. Addison Fox

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