Entering the building that housed the sheriff’s office, my cell service kicked in and my phone buzzed repeatedly with arriving texts. I started to check them but was distracted by Lot, sauntering by with his cell phone pressed to his ear.
“Coming?” he said, and vanished into his office, leaving the door open.
I started after him, but Gemma stayed where she was, looking at her phone. “Mind if I sit this one out? I need to return some messages while I have a signal.”
“Sure. Whatever,” I said, but I felt a twinge of disappointment. I hated to admit it, but it had been kind of nice to have Gemma around. I reminded myself not to get used to it. My sister had a history of pulling the rug out from under me.
I closed Lot’s office door behind me. He was already seated, still on the phone, but his smug arrogance had been replaced by an expression that read to me as exasperated. A moment later he hung up with a cursory, “Fine,” and turned his attention to me, grinning as he regarded my sodden hair and damp clothing. “You look like you had a fun morning. I hope your camera didn’t get wet while you were filming without a permit.”
I tensed, but Lot waved his hand. “Relax. I’m not going to take your camera away. I just got off the phone with Soren Kron, calling on behalf of his father. As of five minutes ago, a film permit for all public property in Stone’s Throw has been secured in your name. Apparently you have friends in high places. Or one friend. The only one who matters around here.”
I nodded and exhaled in relief. I should have thought to ask Kron for help with a film permit immediately. Lucky for me the director seemed to think of everything.
Lot leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers behind his head, revealing Pac-Man–shaped sweat stains tucked into the armpits of his shirt. It wasn’t hot in there. Maybe I made him more nervous than he let on. Or something else was making him nervous.
“I want to make a mutually advantageous deal with you,” Lot said. “If you learn anything significant about the Dark Road, let me know, and in return I’ll let you in on a bit of what I know.”
It took a moment for his offer to sink in. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
He lowered his arms and leaned forward on his elbows, looking me in the eye. “After watching your first episode, or whatever you want to call it, I decided you might be more effective than I gave you credit for. You got Ray Talbot to talk to you in a way he’s never talked to me or the previous sheriff. You’ve got a knack for subtle manipulation that I, sadly, do not have.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” I said. “I think you’re plenty manipulative.” He laughed, and on that note, I asked, “Can I look at your case files?”
His laughter ceased immediately. “So much for subtlety,” he said. “You first. Did you learn anything this morning?”
I pretended to mull over the question. “Does ‘white wolf’ mean anything to you?”
“The White Wolf Trailhead is where the missing girls’ cars were found. This is not news. Try again.”
“Does a white wolf mask mean anything, then? Because someone broke into my sister’s car last night and left one on her seat. It was the only thing taken from my car by whoever broke the window, which seems significant since I left my purse in the car.” I almost told him about the email and the video, but Lot cut me off.
“You could have mentioned that at the scene,” he snapped.
“True,” I said. “But I wasn’t going to tell you because you’re such an asshole, and now you’re being semi-decent. So what’s the significance?”
Lot shrugged. “The sanctuary sells wolf masks as souvenirs.”
“I know. I saw them. What I want to know is why someone would go out of their way to put one in my sister’s car and then break my window to steal it back.”
“Maybe it wasn’t the same person. People’s cars get broken into at that trailhead all the time. There’s a sign warning about it.”
I stared at him, waiting for more, but he pressed his lips together and smiled.
“Fine,” I said. “Your turn, Clarice. Quid pro quo.”
“Shouldn’t I be Lecter?” he asked.
“Nope. You’re the cop, so you get to be Clarice. Don’t be sexist. Can I have a look at your case files?”
“There’s not a lot in the files that’ll help you,” he said, but he opened a drawer and took out a slim stack of folders. “The previous sheriff wasn’t much of an investigator. I would go so far as to say he couldn’t find his own dick if it was in his mouth. Great guy to have a beer with, though. Or he was before his brain turned to mush.”
I reached greedily for the folders.
Lot withdrew them. “Pick one,” he said.
“That’s a cheap trick,” I said, scowling.
“I shouldn’t be letting you look at any of them. This stays between you and me, by the way. Now pick one before I change my mind.”
“Annika Kron,” I said without hesitation, hoping Lot was a better investigator than his predecessor. She was the only missing girl whose investigation he’d overseen.
“Of course,” he said, but made no move to hand it over. “I’ll have one of my deputies make a copy of the file. You didn’t think I’d let you run off with my original, did you?”
“Thank you,” I said. “Really. I owe you.”
“Yes, you do. Got anything else useful to tell me?”
I chewed my bottom lip in thought. “Did I forget to mention the man I ran into in the woods today?”
Lot leaned forward. “What man?”
“He was at the Wolf King’s cottage.”
The sheriff shrugged. “It’s a popular trail. Lots of people visit that cottage.”
“He was wearing a wolf mask exactly like the one that was stolen from my car.”
Lot’s eyebrow went up. “Another detail you conveniently forgot to mention. Did you talk to him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I found a fascinating spot on the wall behind Lot to focus on. I didn’t want to admit that I’d bolted. “He scared me. I was alone and—”
“I thought you were with your sister.”
“I was. We got separated. That’s part of why I was freaking out. I thought something might have happened to her.”
“Did it?”
I shook my head, and Lot smiled that infuriating smile of his, the one that was always laughing at me, even when no sound came out of his mouth. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the man you saw. People running around in those woods wearing masks doesn’t register as unusual here. You know about the fanatics who perv around Jonas Kron’s film locations?”
“I’m aware of them,” I said. “Are there any regulars? Have you ever investigated any of them?”
“There’s no one in town I would call a true Kronophile, and the visitors aren’t breaking any laws. Usually.” Lot glanced at his watch and stood. “I hate to cut our session short, but I have to run. This is a busy week for me with the festival starting.”
“But I just gave you something. Where’s my something in return?”
“Did I forget to specify? It needs to be something I can actually use.” He reached across the desk and plucked Annika’s file from my hand. “Come back in an hour and I’ll have a copy of the file ready for you.”
“Nice doing business with you,” I said, standing and moving toward the door. I stopped with my hand on the knob and turned back to him. “Do you watch Kron’s movies?” I asked.
“I can’t say I enjoy them, but yeah. I’ve seen them.”
“What do you think about the idea of a copycat? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to make life imitate Kron’s art.”
“I think it’s one possibility,” the sheriff allowed.
“You know that in A Stranger Comes to Town the townspeople feed an innocent blonde to a wolf creature that lives in the forest.”
“Who said the blonde was innocent? We don’t know her name or where she came from or how she lost that toe. Even she doesn’t know those things. We shouldn’t assume she’s innocent.”
“Riiggghhht. Blame the victim.”
He shrugged. “If she’s to blame, then sure. We simply don’t know. So is that your top theory?” he asked. “That we’re all in on the disappearances? Everyone in Stone’s Throw is culpable?”
“I’m just saying there are similarities. And maybe you’re so used to this town you don’t realize how strange it is here.”
“This coming from a woman who’s lived her entire life in LA. You probably experience more weirdness in an afternoon than I do in a year. Believe me, the weirdest thing in Stone’s Throw right now is you.”