The Sheriff of Silverhill

Rolling her head to the side, she peeled open one bloodshot eye. “Huh?”

“We’re leaving.” He patted the side of the laptop case. “Maybe this can tell us something.”

She pushed to her feet, swaying slightly. “I’ll see you out.”

“That’s okay. We’ll see ourselves out.” Dana cupped Mrs. Thompson’s elbow.

“I may be drunk, but I haven’t lost all my manners.” She scooted around the coffee table, banging her shin.

Dana winced, but Mrs. Thompson didn’t seem to notice. She shuffled toward the front door and opened it. Standing with her back against the dilapidated screen door, she peered into Dana’s face. “Give my best to Mary Redbird. M-maybe she can figure out who’s doing this. Maybe she can see who murdered my Holly.”

Gasping, Dana drew back. “Auntie Mary doesn’t have visions like that, Mrs. Thompson. She’s more of a healer.”

Mrs. Thompson’s hand shot out and grabbed Dana’s forearm. “Your mama, Ronnie, had that power. I knew my husband was cheating on me, and Ronnie gave me her name and the name of the hotel where they were meeting. Claimed she saw them there together.” Mrs. Thompson tapped her temple. “Up here in her head.”

“My mother’s dead.”

Rafe placed a steadying hand on the curve of Dana’s back, feeling a shiver snake through her body. Damn. Maybe Dana nailed it. Maybe Mrs. Thompson suspected some of what went on in Holly’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Thompson. We’ll get this guy.” Rafe stepped between her and Dana and shoved open the screen door. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Dana practically flew down the front steps and banged through the flimsy gate. Nothing like acting guilty. If Mrs. Thompson hadn’t suspected anything before, Dana’s hasty escape might have planted a seed of a notion.

Rafe gave Mrs. Thompson a weak smile and followed Dana out with measured steps. No sense in both of them scrambling from the house.