sir.â She stepped close to John. âGood job.â
âThanks.â He relinquished custody of the criminal to Audrey. To the sheriff, John said, âThere might be more of them.â
The sheriff instructed the half dozen officers to spread out and search the area. The door to the church opened. Deputy Harrison came out, followed by Ophelia and Sean.
âAll right, everyone,â the sheriff said. âLetâs take this back inside the station.â
âThey blew the generator,â Harrison said. âThe stationâs dark and the fire departmentâs on the same electrical circuit, so itâs dark, too.â
âPaulson,â the sheriff called.
A deputy hustled over. âYes, boss.â
âGet someone out here to fix the generator and the electricity,â Sheriff Crump commanded. Turning to the group huddled around him, he said, âLetâs take this inside the church. Harrison, call Pastor Wilson, let him know whatâs up.â
âOn it.â Harrison moved away to use his cell phone while the sheriff ushered them all inside the church.
Someone flipped a switch and wall sconces lit up, dispelling the inky shadows and revealing a small wood-paneled room with several doors. The sheriff pushed open a set of doors to the left and led their suspect into an office. He pushed him into a chair and took the black beanie from his head, revealing cropped sandy-blond hair.
John moved so that he could face the man. He was a stranger to him. Or at least John assumed, since he felt no recognition at all. The man had wide-set eyes, broad features with a nose that had been broken in the past and a jutting chin. âWho are you? Why are you trying to kill me?â
The man stared through him. âIâm not talking to you,â he said in a softly accented voice.
Eastern European. John didnât question how he knew. John stalked to the window, careful to keep the majority of his body out of the line of sight in case the suspect had a cohort who might want to take a potshot at him. He stared out at the parking lot shared by both the church and the sheriffâs station. The glowing embers of the burned-out generator and the dozen or so firefighters in turnout gear were visible.
âWhat do we do now?â Ophelia asked. âEd will be wondering where I am.â
âDeputy Harrison will take you home,â Sheriff Crump said. âSean, you need to go on home, too.â
John turned from the window, his gaze on the man in the chair. âIs it safe for them to leave?â
The man shrugged but held his gaze. âTheyâre not the target.â
A fist of dread hit John in the solar plexus. âRight. I am.â
Seanâs gaze bounced to Audrey. âAre you sure youâll be okay?â
âIâm fine, Sean,â Audrey assured him. âTell Jessie hello for me.â
John heard the faint thread of annoyance in her tone and again wondered what exactly her relationship with the younger man was.
Sean nodded, but there was no mistaking the frustration on his face as he left with Ophelia and the deputy.
Sheriff Crump sat on the edge of the large desk dominating the office. âIt would be helpful if you told us your name since weâre all going to be here for a while.â
âSasha,â the man said with a shrug. âMy name is Sasha.â
Audrey stepped closer. âThank you, Sasha, for telling us your name. Do you know his name?â
Sashaâs lip curled. âNo.â
âAre you hungry?â she asked, fishing around in her cargo pants pockets and producing a protein bar.
Sasha shook his head.
âThirsty?â She walked to a small refrigerator in the corner. âPastor Wilson keeps water here.â She pulled out bottles of water. âSheriff? John?â
âIâm good,â replied Sheriff Crump.
Seeing the sharp way Sasha stared at him, John nodded. âSure. Iâll
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