Free The Perfect Outsider by Loreth Anne White

know for sure.”
    We sure as hell don’t.
    “That’s why we’re going to keep him locked up with a guard outside that door until the FBI takes him away. I’ll call Agent Hawk Bledsoe when I go into town.”
    “You’re leaving? ” Panic showed in her face.
    “I need to put in an appearance, cover my bases. It might take some hours, but you’ll be safe with everyone else here.”
    Lacy got up from her chair. “Are you sure?”
    “Hundred percent.” June forced a smile. “Trust me, everything is going to work out fine.”
    June watched the young woman walk out of the living room. She wished she believed her own words.
    * * *
    A white polo shirt enhanced Samuel Grayson’s tan, which in turn brought out the vivid green of his eyes. His dark hair was impeccably cut—he was movie-star handsome, and he knew it as he stood in front of his office window waiting for Mayor Rufus Kittridge to arrive. He’d positioned himself so the sun coming through the window would backlight him. It gave him an edge and sent a subliminal message of superiority, godliness. He used lighting to similar effect when he gave his seminars.
    A bottle of his Cold Plains Creek “tonic” water had been carefully positioned on his desk beside a clean glass. The creek was the reason Samuel had chosen Cold Plains to establish his business five years ago. Legend dating back centuries claimed water from the creek possessed rejuvenating and healing properties. It was this legend that Samuel sold.
    His Devotees bottled the creek water for him out of a sense of duty to their community. And he sold the bottles back to them at $25 a pop, usually at his seminars where peer pressure helped them fork over the dollars. Samuel personally pocketed a hundred percent of the profits. He was now shipping a set quota of bottled water to other towns, too. It was a nicely growing concern.
    A rap sounded at his oak door.
    “Come in!”
    Mayor Rufus Kittridge, in his fifties, limped into the room. His face was round, friendly, and the touch of gray at his temples bespoke experience. The limp was all that remained from injuries sustained in a car-bomb attempt on his life three months ago. Jonathan Miller, the demolitions expert responsible for the bomb, had since been taken into custody in Cheyenne.
    “Rufus!” Samuel said warmly as he stepped forward and clasped the man’s hand.
    The mayor had a firm grip and easy smile. Everyone in town knew him to be a keen Devotee, but few knew their congenial mayor also oversaw two groups of Samuel’s militia-style enforcers. One of the groups was headed by Lumpy Smithers, who’d taken over from Charlie Rhodes after Charlie was shot during an FBI raid on the community center. The other group was headed by the deceptively sweet Monica Pearl. Compartmentalization was key to keeping the unsavory—but necessary—deeds committed by the groups at a legal arm’s length from Samuel. If the FBI ever got evidence on any of the murders, it would be Rufus, Monica and Lumpy who went down—nothing would stick to Samuel. He was incredibly careful about that.
    But he was worried right now.
    Special Agent Hawk Bledsoe and his FBI team were closing in. On top of this, a total of eleven Devotees had disappeared without a trace in the past three months. And these were not “disappearances” sanctioned by him.
    Samuel had begun to fear that he had a mole—possibly even a network—working on the inside to get vulnerable Devotees out of Cold Plains, and he’d heard rumors of a safe house.
    Under Samuel’s orders, Rufus had engaged eighteen-year-old Molly Rigg to pose as a Devotee desperate to get out, and it seemed to have worked—Molly had vanished. But she’d made no contact with Rufus or his men, and Samuel was beginning to fear she’d been deprogrammed. The idea enraged him.
    And now Lacy Matthews and her kids had gone missing. The whole town was abuzz with talk of her disappearance from the coffee shop, which was a gathering place,