Jack pointed a thumb at Andy, and the new deputy's warm brown skin flushed a little. She made a sharp left turn and saluted at Andy. "Deputy Lizzie Underhill, on loan from Orange County, sir."
Andy put out a hand. "Very good timing, deputy. We've got a bit of a situation on hand."
Deputy Underhill, who was probably in her early twenties, nearly six feet tall, and sturdy in her uniform and gear, squared her shoulders and stared at Andy with serious dark brown eyes. "Yes, sir. Where do you need me?"
"One moment, deputy." Andy turned to us, put Jack and Uncle Mike on crowd control, asked Aunt Ruby to meet him in her office, and then blew out a sigh and studied me and Rooster.
"Tess, I'd really like to have Deputy Underhill here with me, at least until the coroner gets here. I'm going to send Harold and Emeril with your Aunt Ruby. Rooster, can I have your word you'll go to the station with Tess and stay there?"
Rooster reached for my sleeve and closed his fingers around my arm—he knew better than to touch my bare skin. "I swear on my honor, Andy."
Andy stared at Rooster in silence, then nodded. "Okay. Tess, thank you. I'll be there as soon as I can."
I could almost see question marks surround the new deputy's head, like in a comic book, but I had a job, and I was going to do it.
"Let's go, Rooster," I said, gently pulling away, so he didn't accidentally touch my arm. The last thing we needed right now was for me to pass out with a vision of his death. "We'll get this all straightened out really soon, you'll see."
"Thanks, Tess," he said, but his voice was shaky. "Jack?"
Jack turned to face him, one eyebrow raised.
"I can't sit around the cop shop like this," Rooster said, plucking at the fabric of his Santa suit. "Just feels wrong. Can you—when you get a minute, can you get my regular clothes out of my truck? It's not locked."
Because nobody locked their vehicles in Dead End, a fact I suspected the actual murderer knew and had taken advantage of.
"Sure," Jack answered and then he went back to herding the remaining Dead Enders, who were still trying to get a glimpse of what was going on.
"It's going to be just fine," I told Rooster, and then I walked with him down to the sheriff's office. "Everything's going to be just fine."
I should have known better.
Because when Deputy Underhill walked into the station thirty minutes later and slapped Rooster's clothes down on Andy's desk, they were splattered with blood.
18
Tess
I felt like all the air in my body escaped in a monster-sized gasp.
Those clothes had beeninsideRooster's truck—not in the open back.
This was bad.
This wasreallybad.
Andy strode into the office before anybody could speak and walked right up to Rooster.
"I'm going to have to ask you to explain this."
But the big man's eyes were wide with confusion and sorrow, which looked so wrong beneath the Santa hat he still wore. "I don't—I got no idea what that's about. I put those clothes in the back of my truck to change into after my Santa shift at town hall."
Deputy Underhill pinned him with a narrow-eyed stare. "Are you sure you didn't wear them downtown, kill the victim, and then change into your Santa suit?"
"Thevictimhas a name," I said hotly. "Darryl Peterson. And Rooster is no killer."
Jack reached for my hand, but I shook him off. "It's true. And I doubt Rooster has ever locked his truck in his life."
Rooster shrugged. "Nobody locks their trucks in Dead End. Ain't no call for it. People here are honest."
