Page 47 of Claimed By the Deputies

“He’s waiting for you,” she says.

“Thank you, Dominique,” Jerry replies with a polite nod.

Looking at him now, I can hardly draw any common points to Billy Jade or Stuart Johnson. Spring screams Ivy League education, a post-cocaine sheen shining on his face, his thin frame tucked into a tailored grey suit as he pushes the doors open.

“Thank you for taking the time, Mayor Hamilton,” Lucas greets.

“My pleasure, Sheriff,” Hamilton replies as he gets up from behind his large mahogany desk.

For a moment, I am overwhelmed. There is a certain grandness to the room. A distinction awarded to a man elected by his people to guide them, to lead them forward. Awards and framed photographs on the walls speak of an illustrious figure. Yet the man standing behind the desk looks more like a king who lives for the adoration of his subjects, not a public servant for the people. It hits all the wrong notes in my head.

“This is my deputy, Mitch O’Malley,” Lucas says. “You might have crossed paths around town before.”

Mitch shakes Hamilton’s hand. “Pleasure, sir.”

“And this is Tassia Callaghan, consultant for the sheriff’s department.” I give the mayor a slight nod.

“You’re the girl that came through the reformed felons’ program, right?” Hamilton goes straight for the jugular with a flat smile.

Alright, Mr. Mayor. Two can play that game. “The New Beginnings program, sir,” I politely correct him. “I’ve paid my dues to society.”

“I thought you were working in the evidence room. You’re consulting the sheriff, now?”

“You seem to know a lot about the inner workings of my office,” Lucas says.

“The mayor keeps an eye on everything going on in our town, as a good mayor should,” Jerry Spring interjects with an equally fake smile. “Don’t forget, you serve at his pleasure.”

Actually, the mayor serves at the pleasure of the people, and the sheriff is also an elected position, not hired by the mayor. I keep my mouth tightly shut.

“I’m always happy to assist law enforcement in any endeavor designed to rid our town of its drug problem,” Hamilton replies and resumes his seat. “How you staff your office is your business, Sheriff. I was simply noting my curiosity regarding the circumstances of Miss Callaghan’s employment.”

“Please, have a seat,” Jerry points to three guest chairs in front of Hamilton’s desk.

He slowly moves to stand behind his boss near a large window offering a nice view of the Mayoral Park—lush greenery and trimmed hedges beneath a clear blue sky, the town’s historical buildings with their white-washed facades rising quietly in the background for a picture-perfect composition.

“As you probably already know, we’ve arrested and are about to charge William Jade for the murders of Dina Kellogg and Tanya Burrow,” Lucas says. The three of us are now seated, watching the mayor and his aide like hawks. “And we have trafficking and distribution charges pending against Stuart Johnson as well.”

“It boggles the mind, really, that people can do such heinous things,” Hamilton scoffs and shakes his head in disgust.

He’s in his early sixties, his white hair cut short, his face clean shaven. Judging by his posture and the custom-tailored black suit he’s wearing, his appearance is important to him. Not a loose thread or hair out of place. He represents this town and takes his image seriously. He also reeks of vanity.

“Mayor, we’ve known for years about Frost Valley’s drug problem,” Lucas says. “All we’re doing now is chasing down the right leads before it gets worse.”

“What’s worse than two dead women and dozens of OD’s?” Hamilton asks.

Jerry Spring sneers as he looks away.

“You’d be surprised. All I’m saying is it could become an even bigger problem if we don’t take the ringleaders down in time,” Lucas says.

“Fair enough,” Hamilton replies. “How can I help?”

Mitch goes straight for the bomb drop and tosses Jerry a knowing smile. “From what I understand, you go way back with our offenders.”

“Excuse me?” Jerry sounds surprised, appearing almost offended.

“You, Stuart Johnson, and Billy Jade. You were on the same football team. Buddies,” Mitch explains.

Jerry’s sheen glistens even brighter. Though I enjoy watching the man squirm, I’d expected him to be a lot less transparent. “That was a long time ago. We haven’t been in touch since high school.”

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