A Perfect Evil

“Hi, Lucy. Is everything okay?” the younger man said as his eyes sca

“I was just trying to find out what this lady-”

“I’m here to see Sheriff Morrelli,” Maggie interrupted. She was getting impatient with being treated like a tax auditor.

“What did you need to see him about?” It was the deputy’s turn to interrogate her, his forehead creased with concern, his stance straightening as though on alert.

Maggie ran her fingers through her hair, waiting for the impatience to settle before it turned to anger. She brought out her badge and flipped it open to them. “I’m with the FBI.”

“You’re Special Agent O’Dell?” the younger man said, now looking more embarrassed than surprised.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Sorry about the third degree.” He wiped his hand on his T-shirt and extended it to her. “I’m Nick Morrelli.”

She was sure the surprise registered on her face, because he smiled at her reaction. Maggie had worked with enough smalltown sheriff’s to know that they didn’t look like Nick Morrelli. He looked more like a professional athlete, the kind whose good looks and charm forgave his arrogance. The eyes were sky blue and hard to ignore against the ta

“This is Deputy Eddie Gillick, and I guess you already met Lucy Burton. I am really sorry. We’re all just a little on edge around here. We’ve had a couple of really long nights, and there’s been a lot of reporters snooping around.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come up with an interesting disguise.” This time Maggie let her eyes slowly scan the length of Morrelli’s body, just as he had done to her. When her eyes finally met his, a flicker of embarrassment had replaced his arrogance.

“Actually, I just got back from Omaha. I ran in the Corporate Cup Run.” He seemed eager to explain, almost uncomfortable, as though he had been caught at something he shouldn’t be doing. He shifted from one foot to another. “It’s a fund-raiser for the American Lung Association…or maybe it’s the American Heart Association. I can’t remember. Anyway, it’s for a good cause.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Sheriff Morrelli,” she said, although she was pleased that her presence seemed to demand one.

There was an awkward silence. Finally Deputy Gillick cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get back on the road.” This time he smiled at Maggie. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss O’Dell.”

“Agent O’Dell,” Morrelli corrected him.

“Right, sorry.” Flustered by the correction, the deputy was now anxious to make his exit.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again,” Maggie added to his misery.

“Lucy, do I smell fresh coffee?” Morrelli asked with a boyish smile.

“I just made a fresh pot. I’ll get you some.” Lucy’s voice was now syrupy and a feminine octave higher.

Maggie smiled to herself as she watched the young woman’s rigid, authoritarian stature give way to a soft sway as she started to fetch coffee for the handsome sheriff.

“Would you mind getting a cup for Agent O’Dell, too?” He smiled at Maggie while Lucy turned and shot her an irritated glare.

“Cream or sugar?”

“None for me, thank you.”

“How about a Pepsi, instead?” he asked, eager to please her.

“Yes, that sounds good.” Perhaps the sugar would help fill her empty stomach.

“Forget the coffee, Lucy. Two cans of Pepsi, please.”

Lucy stared at Maggie, all the excitement drained from her face and replaced by contempt. She spun around and left, the clicking of her heels echoing all the way down the hallway.

It was just the two of them. Morrelli rubbed his arms as if to ward off a chill. He looked uncomfortable, and Maggie knew she was the cause of his discomfort. Perhaps she should have called. She wasn’t good at that etiquette stuff, and it was probably expected in Platte City, Nebraska.

“After almost forty-eight straight hours, we decided to take a break today.” Again, he seemed eager to explain away his appearance and the silent department. “I really didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow. You know, it being Sunday.”

Maggie found herself wondering if he had been appointed or elected. In either case, his boyish charm had probably outweighed his competence.

“My superiors gave me the impression that time may be important in this case. You are still holding the body for my examination, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course. He’s…” Morrelli rubbed a hand across his bristled face. Maggie noticed a small scar, a puckered white line that blemished his otherwise perfect jaw. “We’re using the hospital morgue.” He dug his fingers into his eyes. Maggie wondered if it was simple exhaustion or an attempt to block out the image that probably haunted his sleep. The report indicated that Morrelli was the one who had found the boy.

“If you’d like, I can take you there,” he added.

“Thanks. Yes, I will need to do that. But first, there’s someplace else I’d like you to take me.”

“Sure. You probably want to unpack. Are you staying here in town?”

“Actually, that’s not what I meant. I’d like to see the scene of the crime.” She watched Morrelli’s face grow pale. “I’d like you to show me where you found the body.”

Chapter 11

The pasture road dissolved into torn grass and jagged ruts. Tire tracks crisscrossed each other, stamped into the mud. Nick shifted the Jeep into second gear and the vehicle strained forward, the tires cutting still more deeply into the mud.

“I don’t suppose anyone realized all this traffic in and out of here may have destroyed evidence?”

Nick shot Agent O’Dell a frustrated look. He was getting tired of being reminded of his mistakes.

“By the time we discovered the body, at least two vehicles had been through here. Yeah, we realized we may have messed up the killer’s tracks.”

He glanced at her again as he tried to keep the Jeep from sliding into the worst parts of the mud. Though she acted older, he guessed she was only in her late twenties, maybe earlier thirties-much too young to be an expert. Her age wasn’t the only thing that disarmed him. Despite her cool, abrupt ma

The Jeep jerked to a stop in front of the shelterbelt of trees, and immediately the nausea of that night struck Nick. The light-headedness surprised him. It was getting to be embarrassing. He heard O’Dell struggle with the door handle, the familiar click of metal against metal.

“Wait, that door sticks. Here, let me.” Without thinking he reached across the seat, leaning against her. His hand was on the door handle before he realized his body hovered over her, his face dangerously close to hers. She pressed herself into her seat to avoid touching him, and he immediately jerked his hand away, returning to his own side.

“I’ll get it from the outside.”

“Good idea.”

Outside the Jeep, Nick berated himself. What a stupid thing to do. Not very professional. He was certainly living up to his reputation as the incompetent playboy sheriff.

He sloshed around to the other side of the Jeep. Back at the office he had taken a quick shower, put on jeans and traded the ru