An Ice Cold Grave Read Free

dispatcher when we entered. I’ve never understood how law enforcement people can stand to carry so much equipment around their hips, and this woman was bearing the full complement, too. I never like to stare long enough to identify all the items. I’d had a brief relationship with a deputy, and I should have taken a moment then to examine his cop equipment. I’d been more involved with his other equipment, I guess.
    When the sheriff straightened, I saw she was a tall woman. She was in her fifties, with graying brown hair and a comfortable set of wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She didn’t look like any true believer I’d ever encountered, yet she was the one who’d emailed us.
    â€œI’m Harper Connelly,” I said. “This is my brother, Tolliver Lang.”
    We weren’t what she’d expected, either. She gave me a scan up and down.
    â€œYou don’t look like a dingbat,” she said.
    â€œYou don’t look like a prejudiced stereotype,” I said.
    The dispatcher sucked in her breath. Uh-oh.
    Tolliver was right behind me, slightly to my left, and I felt nothing but a calm waiting coming from him. He always had my back.
    â€œCome into my office. We’ll talk,” said the tall woman. “My name is Sandra Rockwell, and I’ve been sheriff for one year.” Sheriffs are elected in North Carolina. I didn’t know how long her term was, but if she’d only been a sheriff a year, she must have plenty to go. Politics might not be as urgent a consideration for Sheriff Rockwell as they would be during election year.
    We were in her office by then. It wasn’t very big, and it was decorated with pictures of the governor, a state flag, a U.S. flag, and some framed certificates. The only personal thing on Sheriff Rockwell’s desk was one of those clear cubes you can fill with pictures. Her cube was full of shots of the same two boys. They were both brown-haired like their mother. One of them, grown, had a wife and child of his own. Nice. The other one had a hunting dog.
    â€œYou-all want some coffee?” she asked as she slid into the swivel chair behind the ugly metal desk.
    I looked at Tolliver, and we both shook our heads.
    â€œWell, then.” She put her hands flat on the desk. “I heard about you from a detective in Memphis. Young, her name is.”
    I smiled.
    â€œYou remember her, then. She’s partnered with a guy named Lacey?”
    I nodded.
    â€œShe seemed like a sensible person. She was no flake. And her clearance rate and reputation are impressive. That’s the only reason I’m talking to you, you understand?”
    â€œYes, I understand.”
    She looked a little embarrassed. “Well, I know I’m sounding rude, and that’s not my intention. But you have to understand, this is not something I’d consider doing if you didn’t have a track record. I’m not one of these people who listens to that John Edward—not the politician with an s , but the medium—and I’m not one of these who likes to have my palm read, or go to séances, or even read a horoscope.”
    â€œI fully understand,” I said. Maybe my voice was even dryer.
    Tolliver smiled. “We get that you have reservations,” he said.
    She smiled back gratefully. “That’s it in a nutshell. I have reservations.”
    â€œSo, you must be desperate,” I said.
    She gave me an unfriendly look. “Yes,” she admitted, since she had to. “Yes, we’re desperate.”
    â€œI’m not going to back out,” I said baldly. “I just want to know what I’m up against.”
    She seemed to relax at my frankness. “Okay, then, cards on the table,” she said. She took a deep breath. “For the past five years, boys have been going missing in this county. It’s up to six boys now. When I say ‘boys,’ I mean in the fourteen-to eighteen-year-old