Page 24 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

As soon as she passed the main desk and entered the restaurant, she stopped in surprise. A large group of men and women stood around two long tables that had been pulled end-to-end on the far side of the room. The wording across the backs of their jackets read Polk County Sheriff’s Office. They must have arranged for the search party to meet at the restaurant, rather than the station. Seeing how many people were here, it made sense. They’d never have fit in the conference room.

As she headed their way, she saw Chief Dawson bending over the tables, running his fingers across a large map. Beside him were Ortiz and Fletcher. Collier must have been left at the station to run things and take any emergency calls.

“Morning,” a familiar brogue said behind her.

She slowly turned around. “Aid—I mean, O’Brien. Morning. Looks like they decided to use this place as their base of operations today.”

He nodded in silent approval at her use of his last name. “This is where the town meets for most large gatherings. They say it’s for the space. I think it’s more about the good food they serve.”

“Thanks, Aidan.” A smiling Stella had just stepped out of the kitchen with a huge tray of piping-hot blueberry muffins. Grace realized that Stella was the first person she’d heard in this town, other than herself, who’d referred to him by his first name. Did that mean they were friends?

“I won’t tell Frank you complimented his cooking,” Stella continued. “His ego is too inflated as it is. Morning, Special Agent Malone. Grab a muffin before those deputies pounce on this second batch. You’d think they were starving the way they inhale their food.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Looks delicious.” Grace took one of the napkins on the tray and picked up a muffin. Her mouth was watering at the aroma. “They smell incredible.”

“That’s because they are, dear.” She winked and offered Aidan a muffin. Instead, he took the tray from her.

“I’ll carry it for you,” he said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not necessary. Everyone over there is in law enforcement. I know you’re not comfortable around them.” She winked at Grace. “Present FBI agent company excluded, of course. You two are obviously friendly. I heard you’re both staying together.”

Grace almost choked on the bite of muffin she’d just taken. She hurriedly swallowed and cleared her throat. “Um, no, ma’am. I gave up one of the rooms I…” She stopped when she saw the laughter sparkling in Stella’s eyes.

Aidan looked mildly alarmed. “Are you teasing us, ma’am?”

Stella only laughed and reached for the tray of muffins.

Aidan shook his head. “I’ve got it. I have to work with the deputies and police today anyway. I’m helping them search for the guy who shot the boat yesterday with an arrow.”

“Oh my. Well, do be careful. And don’t let those outsiders push you around.” With that, she headed back into the kitchen.

Grace followed Aidan to the other side of the large room. Conversation died as soon as he slid the tray onto the table. Not because everyone was reaching for food, but because Aidan’s reputation obviously preceded him. Just as Stella apparently feared, the deputies moved away from him, acting as if he wasn’t worthy to breathe their air.

Anger had her face heating. She started to say something, but Aidan bumped her shoulder. When she looked up, he subtly shook his head.

She realized that Dawson was watching her, too. She nodded in greeting and kept her silence.

Dawson returned his attention to the map. “Let’s assign out the grids we just reviewed. You’ll work in teams of two. Check in with your team leader every half hour. And don’t assume your Kevlar vests will completely stop an arrow. Sometimes they don’t. It all depends on the speed of the arrow, the distance it travels, the angle of the hit, any number of factors. I’m no expert on bows and arrows. But I know about Kevlar and spent over an hour last night researching the kinds of vests Polk County uses and my team uses. So trust me when I tell you not to take your safety for granted today. The guy we’re dealing with is extremelydangerous and has already proven that he’s willing to target law enforcement.”

Grace took that as her cue to step away from the group. She didn’t want Dawson to point to her as his warning to the others to be more careful. She still needed to report to her boss about her injury and wasn’t looking forward to it. Having him hear through the law enforcement grapevine that an FBI officer was shot with an arrow in Mystic Lake wouldn’t do her any favors. She needed to call him first thing when she got to the police station.

Fletcher, who’d been standing near Dawson a moment ago, caught up to Grace near the front desk. “Hey, Malone. The chief assigned me to work with you today, if you need me. Did you want to do knock-and-talks?”

“I’d like to. The first people I want to speak to are the ones who were at the festival, especially any witnesses to the shooting. That includes the family who took that picture of…of O’Brien. And the men on the boat, of course.”

“I took statements from them yesterday, so I can give you those. If you want to talk to them again, I’ll set it up.”

“Perfect. I want a tour of the town, as well. In particular, I’m interested in places where a stranger may hide in plain sight without causing suspicion. On the internet I saw there’s a large campground near the marina. Or, at least, there used to be. Is that still there? And open this time of year?”

“Colby opened it for the leaf peepers just this week. Colby Wainright, the owner. The first official picture-taking tourists are scheduled to stay at the campground this weekend.” She grinned. “I was up early and already called over there.”

“Well, there’s nothing for me to do, then.”

Fletcher laughed. “There’s plenty. But I’d like to think I can be helpful in your investigation.”

“Ourinvestigation. The guy we’re after is either a serial killer or a copycat. Either way, we need to stop him to keep everyone safe. I not only appreciate your help, I need it. And I have to add that I’ve never had such a welcome reception by a non-federal law enforcement agency before. Or even just the locals. Everyone I’ve met so far, like Stella, the front desk clerk, the few customers who were in the restaurant late last night when I came down for a quick snack, they’ve all been so friendly. I don’t know how Mystic Lake got a reputation for being so, well—”

“Wacky? Weird? Mysterious?”

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