Bree would rather break up a bar fight than deal with the media. Publicity and diplomacy were two of the most difficult aspects of being an elected official. Being sheriff wasn’t just about being a good cop. Bree had to think like a politician.
“I’ll make an appointment with her,” she said. “But for now, we need to get back to the investigation.” Bree wanted to forget about the deepfakes and focus on her case. Give her a killer to hunt down any day . . . “Let’s go talk to Kenny McPherson. If Jim Rogers was correct, Kenny had plenty of motive to kill Oscar.”
“I also want to know why Oscar would plant drugs and falsify charges against him.”
“Let’s get background info on Kenny. Then we’ll go see him.” Bree’s phone vibrated with a call from one of the county supervisors. “I have to take this call. It’s probably about the renovations. You can use a computer in the squad room.”
Matt stepped out of her office.
Bree answered the call. “Sheriff Taggert.”
“Sheriff, this is Madeline Jager.” Madeline Jager was a county supervisor who’d been recently elevated to administrator. Bree sensed the promotion had gone to her head.
Bree waited. She didn’t have any small talk in her.
“I saw the press conference.”
Bree’s belly cramped. “And?”
“And the board wants to meet to discuss the photos and video.”
“What photos and video?”
“The ones of you,” Jager stammered.
“They’re fake.”
“So you say,” Jager snapped.
Anger heated Bree’s blood. “I’m in the middle of an investigation, Ms. Jager. I don’t have time for this.”
“You’d better make time, Sheriff. This story is snowballing.”
The line went dead. Bree set down her phone. She wanted to throw it through the window. How was she responsible for someone else making a fake video of her? She hated feeling helpless or vulnerable, and that’s exactly how Oscar had made her feel. He would be thrilled to know he was still inflicting damage on her from the grave.
She called Morgan Dane. The attorney’s voice mail answered. Bree hesitated. She didn’t want to leave any specific information on the recording. She went with a vague, “This is Sheriff Taggert. I’d like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.” Bree left her number and hung up.
She sat back in her chair, swiveling from side to side, thinking—and fuming.
Deep down, she wished that if she solved the murders—if she did her job exceptionally well—no one would care about edited nude pictures or deepfake pornography, but she knew that wouldn’t happen. People—and the press—seemed more interested in a fake scandal than a real murder.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Todd dealt with the dented patrol vehicle, then drove out into the countryside. Matt’s house was only a few miles out of his way. Cady might be there. He needed to check in with her about the fundraiser. The event had sold out early, but she’d managed to add a few more seats. Todd had sold every ticket she’d given him.
He could tell her in a phone call.
But he really wanted to see her. Besides, it would take only a few minutes to stop now. If she wasn’t working in the kennel, then he’d call her.
He made the turn onto Matt’s road. When he caught sight of Cady’s minivan in the driveway, it sent a ridiculous quiver of excitement through his belly. He parked and got out of his vehicle. A dozen dogs barked as he walked into the kennel. He watched her heft a fifty-pound sack of dog food over one shoulder like it was a bag of flour.
The Flynns weren’t small people. The whole family looked like they stepped out of an episode of Vikings. Like a strawberry-blonde Lagertha, Cady stood nearly six feet tall. A former collegiate rower and current kickboxing instructor, she had plenty of muscles on broad shoulders. Her biceps popped below the short sleeve of her ratty gray T-shirt. Worn jeans showcased legs that were long and strong.
“Let me get that for you.” Taking the bag from her felt a little stupid.
Though she was having no difficulty with the weight or size, she let him have it anyway. “Thanks.”
He carried it to a plastic bin and dumped the contents inside. “I sold those extra tickets.” He stepped back, rolling up the empty bag and stuffing it into a garbage can.
“That’s great!” Securing the lid to the bin, she glanced over her shoulder. “I’d love to order K-9 body armor for Greta.”