CHAPTER THREE

– KATHLEEN –

Elena is standing in front of the office, nervously wringing her hands. I walk toward her with Marvin falling in step beside me. It annoys the fuck out of me that he went over my head to give himself a job. Not just any job either; my second in command.

He could have taken my job and strangely enough, I find it irritating that he gracefully took a step back and even calls me boss lady. Then there's the infuriating part of him being right. The first, second, and now the third time he shows up in my town predicting shit about a case.

I do have to admit, the case he's working on hasn't left my mind. It's why I kept digging into it myself and the reason I handed the information I found over to Marvin. He might be an asshole, but he's an asshole who is very good at his job.

That little fact is also the reason why I haven't said anything about him becoming the undersheriff. It means I'm going home after my shift and won't be working a double. Hell, he can work when I'm off, so I don't have to see him; perfect solution all around when we're short-staffed.

"No need to be nervous, Elena," I gently tell the student who rotates shifts with her co-worker, Wendell.

She releases a deep sigh. "The body cross-contaminated the bloating experiment."

"Which means we have multiple angles of the scene," I muse. "Elena, would you be so kind as to show the body to the undersheriff? I'm going to check the feed real quick and will join you guys soon."

I walk into the office and get behind the computer. A few keystrokes later I'm looking at a person, dressed in black with a hood over his head who is dumping the body. I forward the digital feed to myself and jog out of the office. Marvin is squatting next to the body and turns his head my way when he hears me approach.

"Anything?" Marvin rumbles.

"I've secured the feed. We'll go through it when we're done here. Have you called in your team to process the scene?"

He gives me a tight nod. "They should arrive within twenty minutes. Elena is waiting near the parking lot to guide them here."

"It's one of the agents," I state. "Not the one who gave the interview, but her colleague."

"Yes," Marvin confirms.

I stare down at the naked body and notice the same injuries as all the others and muse, "There's no specific link between victims, no similarities, different jobs, hair, features, height…he always follows a torture routine, carving them up with a knife, removing the lips, and the labia majora…wait."

Marvin slowly gets to his feet. "What? What are you thinking about?"

I let my gaze collide with Marvin's dark eyes. "We know these two agents were picked because the agent had a big mouth. He might have picked all his victims that way. It would at least make sense why he cuts off the lips, top and bottom…degrading them, taking away the ability to mouth off, and maybe even have a sexual aspect…issues rooted in his past? A female figure denigrating him for years? What did the profiler write in his or her report about this serial killer?"

"Nothing you just mentioned. Though, I have a gut feeling you're spot on," Marvin rumbles. "We need to dig into the other stuff you mentioned."

"About the previous owner of Eastlynne's ranch? Yeah. There were rumors about the couple when the wife was still alive, and every child they fostered left town as soon as they were legally able to. Social services never intervened so I don't think there are any records of anything. My dad might know more, but if it was something crucial as neglect or any type of abuse? The Iron Hot Blood would have intervened."

"We'll run the names of all the kids they fostered first, dig in before we swing by the club and have a chat with the older generation," Marvin states. "At least now we have a solid theory, maybe even some possible suspects, especially with the fucker returning to this town, it definitely makes sense."

"Or it could all be a coincidence." I shrug and add on a grumble, "You have been on this case for weeks and I'm just throwing shit together from the first idea that hit me."

"Bullshit," Marvin grunts and takes a step into my personal space. "You have skills, boss lady. Not just the experience or training, but your upbringing, legacy, law enforcement running in your blood. It's the updates you keep adding to your brain. Definitely admirable." He jabs a finger into the air and whirls it around. "This body farm right here also shows the challenge of revealing the truth. Research is vital. A theory is just as important since it's intended to make sense of facts or pieces of a puzzle. You enjoy solving puzzles and not the crossword kind. Hey, now it makes perfect sense why you have a trained cadaver dog."

I give the man my first genuine smile. Damn. If he's not being a major asshole he's actually not so annoying. The compliments he threw at me helped lessen my annoyance, but still.

"Wrench has a knack for it. The others from that litter are trained search and rescue dogs." The sound of voices spurs me to glance over my shoulder. "Looks like your team is here to process the scene."

I gasp when I feel Marvin's hot breath right next to my ear. "Stay away from Dean, no matter what that smooth suck-up fucker says or does."

I take a step back to frown at Marvin, but I hardly get a chance when I hear the rumble of a voice. "Damn, now I understand why you're moving here, brother."

The man lets his gaze slide over me, lingering on my breasts. He takes a step to the side to…oh, come the fuck on.

Narrowing my eyes, I snap, "Really? Checking out my ass when you were called out here to–"

The man who looks like Marvin, but is somewhat younger, cuts me off. "Assist my brother because he has the hots for a stunner of a sheriff he'd like to get under him so he becomes the undersheriff to move things along? Yeah, sugar tits, really. Your ass needs to be checked firsthand to see why my brother would hand over the president patch without a second thought."

I give a slight turn and smack my own ass. "There, you've seen it. Now get to fucking work, asshole."

There's no way I'm waiting around with these idiots. My job here is done. Well, after I've written out a report it will be, but Marvin and his team will handle everything from here on out. I ignore everyone and make my way toward my car.

"Hang on," I hear Marvin rumble behind me. "Kathleen, wait up, dammit."

Opening the door, I wait for Wrench to jump in before I get behind the wheel. The passenger door opens and I turn to glare at Marvin.

"Where are you going?" Marvin questions.

"Back to the office. We're understaffed, remember? You and your lovely brother have it under control here. So, run along, undersheriff." I start the car and wait for him to close the door.

I should have known the asshole would get inside my car because the annoying man never acts the way I think he will. Ignoring the man has become a normality whenever he's around so that's exactly what I do until I park in front of the office. Wrench jumps out behind me and from the corner of my eye I notice Marvin thumbing the screen of his phone.

He glances up and rumbles, "I have to head to the Iron Hot Blood ranch. My horses will arrive within half an hour."

"Here," I quip and throw the keys to the patrol car in his direction.

He effortlessly snatches them out of the air. "Don't you need it?"

I jab a thumb over my shoulder. "We have another patrol car parked out back if I need to head out so for now you can take mine. You can have the one parked out back when you return mine. I'll have the new work schedule ready when you return to the station."

Without waiting for a reply, I walk inside and head for the deputy's desk. "Hey Seth, let the new undersheriff know he's on duty when he returns."

"It's official? He's the new undersheriff?" Seth questions.

I shrug. "That man and the motorcycle club he's a part of are above either one of our paygrades. If he says he's the new undersheriff you better believe it. On the other hand, he's overqualified for the position. The fucker could just as easily have my job, instead he picked a position that's currently available."

Seth bobs his head. "At least you don't have to pull a double."

I snap my fingers. "Right as rain."

Seth chuckles as I head into my office to finish up some paperwork. Wrench plunks down at my feet and I only have thirty minutes in my office before I have to go out and smooth over a fight at the diner.

A couple of hours later I'm finally able to enter the apartment above the sheriff's office and kick off my shoes. Wrench jumps onto the couch next to me. I'm so bone-tired. Unable to keep my eyes open long enough to find the bedroom, I simply close my eyes and fall asleep on the couch.

I'm dreaming of coffee, or at least I think so 'cause the smell is teasing my nose and activating my body to fill the craving that's arising inside me. Groaning, I drag my upper body forward and move my head left and right to stretch out the kinks of falling asleep in a sitting position.

"Are you always dead to the world, sleeping in uncomfortable-as-fuck positions?" Marvin grunts, making my head whip in the direction of the chair across from the couch.

"What the hell are you doing inside my home?" I growl and glare at my dog who is plastered against Marvin's leg, and grumble, "Traitor."

Marvin smirks and pets my freaking dog while taking a sip of his coffee. "I can get into anything."

Except for my pussy , my dirty mind quips. Where the hell did that thought come from? The resolute denial now makes me wonder what it would be like to have sex with Marvin. The way we always go head-to-head could mean fireworks between the sheets…kinda like angry, make up sex.

Damn. Somehow it sounds enticing. Yeah, never going to happen, especially with him moving into town and becoming undersheriff. I shake my head to clear it of my twisted train of thoughts and get to my feet. I need coffee if I need to handle him this early in the freaking morning.

Marvin follows me into the kitchen. "It was a quiet night, leaving me with all the time I needed to run the names of all the kids fostered by Arthur and Beth Bronson, who used to live on the property Eastlynne bought. Eight foster kids in total and three of them fit the profile."

Suddenly wide awake I turn and gape at him. "Three? What the hell? Are you telling me the Bronson family created a cesspool of crazy?" I grab a mug and fill it up while I mutter, "Though, not all serial killers are crazy psychopaths and being a psychopath doesn't make a person a serial killer. Fostering children means they are not connected by DNA, the brain of a serial killer simply functions differently than a normal human brain, but something must have happened during their time at that farm. Do you have the files here?"

The corner of his mouth twitches. "You can have them after you've had some coffee. Let me fix you some breakfast."

He takes a step in the direction of the fridge and I mutter under my breath, "Good luck with that," knowing there's nothing in there.

I'm a workaholic and most times swing by the clubhouse or the diner to get something to eat. It saves time and throwing out groceries because they always go bad with me not taking the time to relax and fix myself something to eat. Damn, but I'm hungry and wouldn't mind seeing that annoying man making me breakfast.

My eyes practically bulge out of my head when I notice the fridge is stocked to the brim. "You went out to get me groceries?"

He doesn't turn around and grabs eggs, bacon, sweet peppers, and other stuff. "Not just you, boss lady. I'm taking the guest bedroom so this will be my apartment, and my fridge as well. And I happen to like eating and having the cabinets stocked."

What. The. Actual. Freaking. Fuck?