A knock at the front door broke the silence and sent a shiver down her spine. For some unknown reason, the thought of her ex-husband flashed through her mind. When the knock came again, she realized it had a certain urgency to it, though it was far from menacing. Pulling it open, she was greeted by the familiar and handsome face of Sheriff Harrison. His tough, bearded face gave her a sense of security and calm unlike any she had ever felt before. It was his eyes that told her he was strong. She could tell he would keep her safe if need be.
"I'm so sorry," he said as he held a newspaper in front of her face. There, on the front page, was a picture of her house with the tagline Newcomer Brings Murder from Big City. Sasha nearly fell to the floor. The name Carol Leighter was still printed in bold lettering next to the title of editor.
Sasha felt betrayed. A few seconds ago, she had thought to thank this Carol person. How could she have gone from a lovely letter of welcoming to one of such spite and fear? How could the murders be her fault and why would this woman want everyone to believe such a thing? Sasha had to fight back tears.
"This is all my fault," Harrison explained, seemingly reading her mind. "Yesterday, I spoke with the editor and her group. Around town, they’re called The Gossip Group. I’m sure you can understand why. They can be a bit of a pain in the ass, but usually, they're harmless.
I had hoped what I asked her had been off the record. I guess I should have specified. I wish I hadn't gone to them. I'm so sorry."
"What the hell did you say to them?"
Harrison explained his thoughts as clearly as he could. Somehow, she was connected but he couldn’t figure out how. He made sure to make it clear she was in no way a suspect. He believed someone might be targeting her to take the fall for the bodies. Of course, Sasha didn't take this news well.
"What do you mean someone's trying to pin this on me? What the hell did I do to anybody? I just got here. I was barely moved in before the first body hit the ground. What the hell is wrong with these people?"
"I know it doesn't mean much, and it doesn't make it right, but this is a small town. People here aren't used to change, nor do they welcome it. They see a new person like a threat to their way of life."
"So they set me up for murder?"
"Obviously, we're dealing with a very sick individual who needs help. What they're doing is wrong on many levels and I intend to stop them by any means necessary, I promise you. I thought hearing the news from a somewhat familiar face would make it a little easier to handle, rather than seeing it alone in the paper."
"I don't know that it does."
"Understandable. Would you like to get your daughter up and ready? I'd like to show you around a bit, maybe take your mind off things?"
Sasha thought about it for a moment, not sure what to say. The whole town would soon hate her. There was no telling how they would respond. Would they take up pitchforks and torches and run her out of town? Would some lone vigilante put her down, thinking it would end the killings? Fear changed people and turned them into ugly creatures, shells of their former selves. Sasha knew all too well.
"Yeah, sure. I guess I could use the distraction." What she really wanted to say was she felt safer staying with the sheriff than she did at home but he probably had been thinking the same thing. She told Harrison to make himself comfortable as she readied Tara for the day. Harrison wasted no time brewing himself a cup of coffee and sitting down on the couch with his feet up. He flipped through the morning paper while Sasha audibly struggled to get her daughter up and ready.
Sasha helped her daughter into the back seat of Sheriff Harrison's truck. When she was safely buckled in, Sasha moved up front with Sheriff Harrison. Harrison gave her a forced smile and turned the key over. They pulled away from Sasha's house and she watched it in the side mirror with a glint of sorrow in her eyes. Spending the day with the sheriff would be a great distraction but all she could think about was hiding under the covers in her bed.
While they drove, she admired the interior of Harrison's truck. It was well kept and clean. On the outside, it was a beat-up old truck with a few rusting parts. On the inside, it looked almost brand new. The beige seats were soft and smelled fresh. The carpet was free of stains and almost shone in the sunlight. Harrison must have shampooed them once a week. She guessed there was nothing better to do in town.
"First, let me show you my office," Harrison said. "In case you need to find me quickly, of course." He drove up to a rather small building painted an ugly brown color. Plastered on the door was a bright yellow sheriff badge. "Before you say anything, yes the building is ugly. No, I didn't pick it. And yes, I'm aware the yellow star on the front kind of looks like Nazi propaganda."
Sasha hadn't been thinking the last part but now she laughed. It was horrible, but the painted star on the door
