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The sheriff fainted.
Tim took a giant step back, his face turning an alarming shade of white.
Mack just stood there, gaping at the open trunk.
“What is that?” I managed to ask.
It was a stupid question. It was absolutely clear what was in his trunk.
A dead woman.
I stole a quick peek at the body. She looked to be in her twenties, with long blonde hair and green eyes. She was wearing black slacks and a thick, red wool sweater. There were no visible signs of trauma.
“I have no idea,” Mack whispered. His mouth was drawn tight, his eyes wide. He looked visibly shaken.
I shifted my gaze from the trunk to the man crumpled in a heap on the ground. The sheriff had passed out the minute he’d seen what was inside the trunk.
I knelt down next to him and gave him a shake. He didn’t move.
Panic seized me. Had he fainted or did he have a heart attack? He was old, after all, and didn’t appear to be in the best of health. I leaned close to his face and felt warm air coming out of his mouth and nose. At least he was breathing.
“Can I get a little help here?” I asked Tim and Mack.
They both stared blankly at me.
I motioned to the sheriff lying prone on the ground. “With him?”
Mack just stared at the trunk, obviously in some state of shock.
Tim’s mouth was still open, his face still as white as a ghost. “But...but...” He pointed to the trunk.
“She doesn’t need any help,” I said pointedly. “He does.”
Neither man made any move toward me and I shook my head in frustration. How was it that I was the only one with my faculties still about me? The sheriff had fainted at the sight in the trunk, and Mack and Tim were both completely immobilized. Unbelievable.
I shook Sheriff Lewis, trying to rouse him, but he just lay there, unconscious. His hand was resting on the ground, ice-cold from the snow, and I could see that his clothes were getting wet. I needed to move him someplace warm and dry.
I grabbed him by the shoulders and started to haul him across the ground and toward the camper. It seemed like the best place to put him since he could lie down and recover there. Mack and Tim just stood there and watched me struggle.
The door to the camper opened. “What’s going on out here?”
I looked up in surprise. A man was coming down the steps, a look of concern on his face.
“He fainted,” I explained, nodding my head at the man I was dragging across the snow.
The man frowned. “Is that a policeman?”
Considering he was wearing his sheriff’s uniform, it felt like a silly question but I just nodded an affirmative.
The man hustled toward me and somehow managed to scoop Sheriff Lewis off the ground and into his arms. It wasn’t graceful and it wasn’t pretty, but at least the old man wasn’t sitting in snow anymore.
I headed toward the camper, intent on opening the door so he could easily get him inside, but the man shook his head.
“Not in there,” he said. “There’s no heat. The truck is a better option.”
I didn’t argue. I hurried toward the truck and tried the passenger door. It was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition. I started it and adjusted the heat so it wouldn’t blow cold air. Hopefully, the engine would warm quickly.
The man positioned the sheriff in the truck, reclining the passenger seat so he was almost horizontal.
“Thank you,” I said to the man. “I don’t think I could have gotten him in here on my own.”
“No problem.” The man smiled. He was probably in his thirties, with short brown hair and a slightly crooked nose.
“Do you live here?” I asked.
He wrinkled his nose. “No, my brother does. Tim. I’m James. James McIntire.”
“Nice to meet you,” I told him. It felt like a weird thing to say considering the circumstances.
The sheriff groaned then, and we both turned out attention to him.
I squeezed his hand. “Sheriff Lewis? Are you okay?”
His eyes fluttered. “Mmm?”
I gave his hand a harder squeeze. James fiddled with the heat, and warm air began to pump out of the vents.
“What happened?” the sheriff asked, weakly.
“You fainted,” I told him.
“What? Why?” His eyes were still closed.
“Um, I think because of what was in the trunk...”
His eyes shot open and I could tell that he immediately remembered what he’d seen.
He bolted upright. “Where is he?”
“He?” I repeated. “I think you’re mistaken, Sheriff. It was a woman...”
He glared at me. “I know what I saw, Rainy Day. And I want to know where that man is.”
I just stared at him. He wasn’t making any sense.
“Mack Mercy,” he announced. He managed to pull himself out of the truck on unsteady feet. “Where is he?”
“Mack?”
He nodded. “Because he is under arrest.”