“Leave. Get out of here. Someone doesn’t want me to be here. You’d think they could just write a note.”
“Just because they haven’t tried to kill you yet doesn’t mean they won’t. If you don’t leave, and if they get desperate enough.”
“Could it be that simple? They just want me to leave town?”
“That probably means it’s somebody local,” he said.
“Shouldn’t be too hard to track down somebody local who practices that sort of voodoo.”
Ah, the charm of the small town. Everybody knew everybody. We just had to find out which ones were the squirrelly ones. Besides, you know, everybody.
I smiled grimly. “I think I’ll give the sheriff a call. Have him clean up that mess.”
Sheriff Marks was not happy. In a really big way, he was not happy. He only gave the hanging carcasses a cursory glance, wearing a stone-faced tough-guy expression to prove he wasn’t grossed out or unduly disturbed.
I sat on the porch steps and watched him survey the clearing—this involved standing in the middle of it, circling, and nodding sagely. He didn’t even bring along Deputy Rosco—I mean Ted—to take pictures of my car this time.
Cormac stood nearby, leaning on the railing. Lurking.
I ventured to speak. “We think it might be somebody local trying to scare me off.”
Marks turned to me, his frown quivering. “How do I know you didn’t do this? That this isn’t some practical joke you’re playing on me?”
I glared back in shock. “Because I wouldn’t do something like this.”
“What about him?” He nodded at Cormac. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” Cormac said, and didn’t offer.
Marks moved toward him, hands on hips. “Can I see some ID, sir?”
“No,” Cormac said. I groaned under my breath.
“Is that so?” Marks said, his attention entirely drawn away from the slaughter around us.
Cormac said, “Unless you’re planning to write me a ticket or arrest me for something, I don’t have to show you anything.”
Marks was actually starting to turn red. I had no doubt he could come up with something—harassing a police officer, loitering with intent to insult—to pin on Cormac, just out of spite.
I stepped between them, distracting them. “Um, could we get back to the dead animals?”
Marks said, “If I’m right, I could have you up on a number of cruelty to animal charges.”
“Should I call my lawyer?” My lawyer who was inside, asleep, recovering from a werewolf bite. “Recovering” was my optimism talking.
“I’m just giving you an out, Ms. Norville. A chance to ’fess up.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“I’m still looking for the hidden cameras,” he said, peering into the trees.
“Oh, give me a break!”
He jabbed his finger in my direction. “If you think being famous keeps you safe, lets you do whatever the hell you want, you’re wrong.”
If I’d thought this situation couldn’t get any worse, I was obviously mistaken.
“Sheriff, I’m being harassed, and if you’re not going to help me, just say it so I can find somebody who will.”