Read Online Haunted (A Bishop/SCU Novel Book 15) by Kay Hooper - Free Book Online
Authors: Kay Hooper
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Bishop, able to sense less than half the people he encountered even on a very good day.
Today was an average day, and he could sense only two here in this coffee shop. The teenager who seemed so intent on his online game was worried about flunking out of school, and one of the young baristas was nursing a pretty fierce crush on her boss. With more of an effort than he had expected, Deacon reestablished his shield, and the emotions faded away.
He nodded. “So . . . any suspects other than my sister?”
“I could tell you I wasn’t free to discuss the investigation with an outsider.”
“You could. Are you going to?”
“Well . . . it
is
up to me.”
Having done his research, Deacon nodded. “State constitution grants all Georgia counties home rule to deal with local problems. Do you answer to county commissioners or a town council?”
“Commissioners,” she answered readily. “We have a good board, as usual. People who want to serve, not use the position as a stepping stone to something better. Not really the best place to begin an ambitious political career, Sociable.”
“I would have said,” he murmured.
A faint gleam in her eyes acknowledged his use of the phrase she had used herself earlier, but she didn’t comment on that.
Instead, she said, “Since the county sheriff’s office is here, there’s never been a need for town police, though a few of the smaller townships in the county have small forces. Basically, I’m the law in Crystal County.”
“That was my understanding.”
Conversationally, she said, “There was no way I was going to call in the state police, even when I realized—which I did well before noon on Tuesday—that whatever’s going on here is something we’ve never had to deal with before. And that we certainly lack any necessary specialized . . . training . . . to deal with it. Bad as the situation was and is, it would be made immeasurably worse by the sort of media attention that always follows big official investigations with multiagency task forces.”
Gazing into her intelligent eyes, he said slowly, “So you called in someone else. You called in the FBI.”
Trinity Nichols inclined her head slightly. “I was a bit surprised when you turned up today. Having a family connection here, I mean. I assume that would disqualify you from working the case.”
He barely hesitated. “Actually, I’m not sure whether it would or not, though there’s probably something on the books to address a situation like this one. But the unit I belong to is a bit . . . outside . . . some aspects of traditional FBI procedure, so I’m not at all sure any sort of standard rule would hold true. In any case, I’m definitely not here officially. My boss didn’t say anything to me about sending an agent or team down here.”
“Bishop?”
That did surprise him, although he wondered if it should have. The SCU was, after all, becoming quite well known within law enforcement all over the country. Even in very small southern towns.
Maybe especially in very small southern towns.
Still, it made him more than a little wary. No matter what she said about media attention, the bald truth was that small-town local law enforcement generally called in federal troops only as a last resort, and the SCU as a
desperate
last resort. Unless, of course, that law enforcement was not too proud to yell for help—and not too closed minded to reject all things paranormal out of hand.
Which appeared to apply to Sheriff Trinity Nichols.
“Yeah. You called Bishop specifically? The Special Crimes Unit, not just the Bureau?”
Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, though her eyes never left his. “I know a few other sheriffs and cops in districts along the southern Appalachians. With all the tourists and hikers wandering up and down the Blue Ridge, some of them getting lost or into some other kind of trouble, it pays for law enforcement to keep in touch even across jurisdictional
Today was an average day, and he could sense only two here in this coffee shop. The teenager who seemed so intent on his online game was worried about flunking out of school, and one of the young baristas was nursing a pretty fierce crush on her boss. With more of an effort than he had expected, Deacon reestablished his shield, and the emotions faded away.
He nodded. “So . . . any suspects other than my sister?”
“I could tell you I wasn’t free to discuss the investigation with an outsider.”
“You could. Are you going to?”
“Well . . . it
is
up to me.”
Having done his research, Deacon nodded. “State constitution grants all Georgia counties home rule to deal with local problems. Do you answer to county commissioners or a town council?”
“Commissioners,” she answered readily. “We have a good board, as usual. People who want to serve, not use the position as a stepping stone to something better. Not really the best place to begin an ambitious political career, Sociable.”
“I would have said,” he murmured.
A faint gleam in her eyes acknowledged his use of the phrase she had used herself earlier, but she didn’t comment on that.
Instead, she said, “Since the county sheriff’s office is here, there’s never been a need for town police, though a few of the smaller townships in the county have small forces. Basically, I’m the law in Crystal County.”
“That was my understanding.”
Conversationally, she said, “There was no way I was going to call in the state police, even when I realized—which I did well before noon on Tuesday—that whatever’s going on here is something we’ve never had to deal with before. And that we certainly lack any necessary specialized . . . training . . . to deal with it. Bad as the situation was and is, it would be made immeasurably worse by the sort of media attention that always follows big official investigations with multiagency task forces.”
Gazing into her intelligent eyes, he said slowly, “So you called in someone else. You called in the FBI.”
Trinity Nichols inclined her head slightly. “I was a bit surprised when you turned up today. Having a family connection here, I mean. I assume that would disqualify you from working the case.”
He barely hesitated. “Actually, I’m not sure whether it would or not, though there’s probably something on the books to address a situation like this one. But the unit I belong to is a bit . . . outside . . . some aspects of traditional FBI procedure, so I’m not at all sure any sort of standard rule would hold true. In any case, I’m definitely not here officially. My boss didn’t say anything to me about sending an agent or team down here.”
“Bishop?”
That did surprise him, although he wondered if it should have. The SCU was, after all, becoming quite well known within law enforcement all over the country. Even in very small southern towns.
Maybe especially in very small southern towns.
Still, it made him more than a little wary. No matter what she said about media attention, the bald truth was that small-town local law enforcement generally called in federal troops only as a last resort, and the SCU as a
desperate
last resort. Unless, of course, that law enforcement was not too proud to yell for help—and not too closed minded to reject all things paranormal out of hand.
Which appeared to apply to Sheriff Trinity Nichols.
“Yeah. You called Bishop specifically? The Special Crimes Unit, not just the Bureau?”
Her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, though her eyes never left his. “I know a few other sheriffs and cops in districts along the southern Appalachians. With all the tourists and hikers wandering up and down the Blue Ridge, some of them getting lost or into some other kind of trouble, it pays for law enforcement to keep in touch even across jurisdictional
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