Free Holly and Homicide by Leslie Caine Page A

toward me.
    “Yeah, I’m—”
    “Halt!” an amplified voice boomed at us. Sheriff Mackey got out of the passenger side of the patrol car and was using a police bullhorn. “Stay right there!”
    This was probably the first murder case Sergeant Mackey had ever been charged with investigating. There was no chance that he’d prove to be up to the task.
    “It’s all right, Greg,” one of the EMT’s called back to Mackey. “That’s just her boyfriend.”
    Jeez! This town really
was
gossip central!
    “That may be so,” Mackey retorted into the bullhorn, “but he’s not allowed onto the crime scene.”
    “What’s going on?!” Steve demanded.
    I watched the back door; Mikara was still inside and couldn’t possibly overhear me. “Angie Woolf was murdered,” I called back. “Down by the bridge. Someone strangled her with a string of Christmas lights.”
    Steve was still standing on the edge of the parking area. I could tell how perturbed he was by his stance and balled fists, though it was too dark to see his features.
    “Look, Sheriff,” Steve said. “I haven’t been here all day, so I’ve got no idea of what happened. All I want to do is go talk to my partner. Can I please go do that?”
    “No, sir, you cannot,” Mackey retorted. “You can wait in your vehicle, or you can wait in the house.”
    “Steve, I’ll talk to you soon,” I shouted, waving at him.
    “I’ll wait in my car,” he called back to me.
    “Silence!” Mackey said, again using his horn. Steve returned to his van and closed the door.
    “There’s really no need for the bullhorn, Greg,” Henry said, emerging from the passenger side of the patrol car. He slammed his door shut. “We can all hear you just fine.”
    “That so, Goodwin?” Mackey said, his amplified voice, if anything, a notch louder.
    “Yeah, that’s so! I’m still the mayor, and I appropriate the police budget, including the equipment that you’re now misusing! I’d rethink your attitude, if I were you.”
    Raising his bullhorn once again, the sheriff announced, “I am in charge of this murder investigation, Mr. Mayor, and
you
are one of my suspects!” He chucked his bullhorn into his car.
    “Suspects?!” Mikara shrieked, suddenly standing in the doorway. “The paramedic won’t tell us who’s been hurt! Who’s the victim? What the hell is going on?!”
    “I’m so sorry, Mikara,” Mackey said, his voice kind. “Just go back inside, and I’ll explain everything in a minute or two.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean … you’re ‘so sorry’? Last time you said that to me was when my dad had his—his heart attack.”
    “Just … go back inside,” Mackey repeated sadly. “Please. I’ll be in as soon as I look at the crime scene.”
    “Oh, my god!” Mikara cried. “Something must have happened to Angie, didn’t it?” She started trotting down the path.
    “Wait!” Mackey started to follow her.
    “No! I need to see my sister!”
    “You can’t!” Mackey slowed his pace. “Stop! We have to keep everyone away. There are footprints in the snow. You could destroy the evidence without even realizing it.”
    Mikara hesitated, but only for a moment. She tried to rush past us down the shoveled path to the creek. The deputy closest to me grabbed her arm.
    “Come on, Mikara,” he said. “Let’s go back to the house. I know how hard this is, but you—”
    “Don’t tell me that!” She yanked free of his grasp. “Don’t you dare tell me you know the first thing about how hard this is! Have you ever had your only sister get murdered?!”
    Henry headed toward us down the path, past Mackey and one of the deputies. “Henry!” Mackey shouted. “You need to stay right where you are, or—”
    “Shut up, Greg,” Henry growled. “You folks can go do whatever you need to do.
I
need to show some kindness. Nobody
else
is. You got a problem with that, you can come handcuff me and haul me away.”
    Henry kept walking, and nobody made a move to