She followed Maggie into the auditorium and took a position against the wall to the right of the council table. She surveyed the room, watching with dread as it filled to capacity. The people all looked eager to see what was going on, seeming to know that some bit of drama was going to play out for their entertainment. They seemed to think the reality show that was about to kick off was apparently more interesting than whatever idiot reality show was playing on the tube tonight.

Johansen sat on the bench beside the podium that stood in front of the raised dais where the council sat. Kyra took a chair just behind him. But when Spenser saw the second man take a seat on the bench with Johansen, her heart lurched so hard, she was certain it bruised the inside of her chest. Six-three with black, shoulder length hair, eyes that were darker than his hair, the man had a dusky complexion and a lean, trim and athletic frame.

Though Spenser had never met him, she’d studied his picture enough that she recognized him on sight. The resemblance to his older brother was unmistakable. They were practically twins. Her skin prickled with goosebumps and a yawning chasm opened in her belly, threatening to swallow her whole. Now she saw the man behind the curtain who had been pulling the strings from the start of all this.

“Alex,” she gasped.

His black, soulless eyes found hers and a slow, predatory smile crept across his face. He tipped her a wink then leaned over and started speaking to Johansen in a hushed whisper. Johansen’s eyes flicked to Spenser then slid away as an expression of amusement swept across his features as he replied. Alex Ricci turned back to Spenser again, his cold eyes glittering with a dark malevolence and the corners of his mouth curved upward.

“Okay, let’s bring this meeting to order,” Maggie’s voice boomed through the speakers set high on the walls. “Everybody, quiet down.”

Harvey Pace, Helen Drury, Brian Peck, Beverly Greensmith, and Zachary Tavares, the Sweetwater Falls’ town council, sat at their high desk on the dais, looking down on the gathered assembly. They looked imperious. Their expressions were grim, mouths tight slashes across their faces, their eyes pitiless. To Spenser, they looked like a group of executioners just waiting to flip the switch and fry her career. Or maybe Maggie was right, and she was just being paranoid. The auditorium finally settled down as Maggie banged her gavel on the desk and called for quiet again.

“We are here tonight at the request of Rafe Johansen, who has declared his candidacy for the office of sheriff in the next election cycle,” Maggie said. “Mr. Johansen has asked to introduce testimony and calls for the impeachment and removal of Sheriff Spenser Song, requesting he be appointed once the office is vacated.”

Maggie’s words set off a low murmur through the crowd and the people turned to gawk at Spenser. Her cheeks warmed, but as Rafe and his ally Alex Ricci looked at her, rather than nervousness, her veins were suddenly flowing with white-hot waves of anger and indignation. She glared daggers at them both, silently vowing to take them both out. She didn’t know how she was going to do it yet, but she was going to find a way.

“Mr. Johansen,” Helen Drury said. “The floor is yours.”

After a quick, quiet consultation with Alex, Johansen got to his feet and stood at the lectern. The speakers squealed sharply with feedback as he adjusted the microphone, drawing groans and muttered complaints from the audience. He turned and gave them all a good-natured smile.

“Sorry about that,” he said, then turned back to the council. “Ladies and gentlemen of the council, it is true that I’m asking you to impeach Sheriff Song and remove her from office. She is compromised and unfit to hold the title of sheriff. In addition to questionable judgment, a history of malicious arrests, and abuse of power, her track record of administering justice fairly is spotty, at best. Her attacks on my son and his friends are just one instance.”

“These are very serious claims, Mr. Johansen? On what do you base them?” Drury asked.

“I base it on the fact that she has railroaded an innocent man. She is complicit in letting her ex-partner, Derrick Ricci, go to prison for the rest of his life for a crime she knows he did not commit. Sheriff Song knows her ex-partner, back when she was with the FBI, did not murder her husband. And yet, even though she knows he’s innocent, a fact she’s admitted repeatedly—in private of course—she is helping the prosecution put him in prison for the rest of his life. If that is not an abuse of power, I don’t know what is,” he replied.

His words incited another round of whispers and murmurs from the crowd and as Spenser looked around, she thought she detected some appalled, if not outright hostile glares being shot in her direction.

“And you’re basing this claim on the word of a tabloid… journalist,” Maggie said, putting as much disdain into her use of the word journalist as possible.

“In part, yes,” he admitted. “But as you all know, I am a very well-connected man and have contacts inside the Department of Justice—”

“And who are these contacts?” Greensmith asked.

“I’m afraid I am not at liberty to say,” he replied. “But they have assured me that they are prosecuting Derrick Ricci solely on the evidence provided by Sheriff Song in her capacity as an agent with the FBI. My contact, of course, had misgivings about the case she brought them and there is a belief some of it was even manufactured. Over my contact’s objections, I am told, based on the evidence Sheriff Song provided, they had no choice but to prosecute.”

The lies flowed from his mouth smoother than velvet and with a smug smirk on his lips, he made direct and continuous eye contact with her as he spewed them. Spenser supposed she should give him props for having the guts to look her in the eye while he screwed her. Her skin was so hot, she could probably fry an egg on her body and her teeth were clenched so hard, she was half-afraid she was going to shatter them. But she held her tongue and seethed silently, for which Spenser gave herself a pat on the back.

Maggie leaned forward and opened her mic. “Mr. Johansen, you seek to be elected—or appointed—to the office of sheriff. But our town bylaws require residency—”

“Mayor Dent, my wife and I have recently purchased a home in town, thus fulfilling the residency requirement.”

“I see,” she replied. “Well, the allegations you are making are quite salacious. Do you have any supporting evidence?”

“Just look at the facts of the case in the trial of Derrick Ricci,” he said. “Also, I would submit the report of the shooting of Sheriff Song and her husband into evidence.”

“I’m not sure that constitutes actual evidence supporting your theory that Sheriff Song orchestrated the trial of her former partner,” Maggie said.

A small, reptilian smile crept across his face and Spenser couldn’t help but think Maggie was playing right into his hands. All she could think of was that old poem, “Will you walk into my parlor, said a spider to a fly,” and she couldn’t stave off the feeling that a trap was about to snap shut.

“Mayor Dent, I know you handpicked Sheriff Song and you two are very close, which makes me wonder—as it should make us all wonder—whether you knew of this conspiracy to frame her former partner before you hired her?”

And just like that, Johansen had managed to smear Maggie with the same bucket of tar he was using to smear Spenser. He’d deftly tied them and their political fortunes together. If he was successful in getting rid of her, Spenser had no doubt he’d be going after Maggie next, either helping to install his own puppet or trying to take the seat for himself. Maggie tapped her pen on the pad of paper in front of her, a wry twist to her lips as she realized what she’d just walked into.

“Thank you, Mr. Johansen,” Tavares said. “Sheriff Song, would you care to respond?”

Her teeth still clenched, she walked to the lectern, never taking her hard-edged glare off Johansen and Ricci. She adjusted the microphone to her height then turned and faced the council. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her skin prickled as she felt every eye in the auditorium on her. Spenser tapped into the angry energy coursing through her and leaned forward, directing her gaze at the council.

“I don’t have much to say other than every word out of that man’s mouth is false. The only reason Derrick Ricci is on trial is because the US Attorney brought charges against him and obtained an indictment. The simple fact that I am not participating in Derrick’s trial, even though I was pressured to do so by the DA and my former supervisor at the Bureau, should be proof enough that I am not actively involved in some grand conspiracy to put him in prison,” Spenser said. “I know Derrick Ricci didn’t kill my husband and nearly kill me that night. No, I’ve always maintained that it was not Derrick, but his brother Alex, who pulled the trigger. And that can be found in official statements I have given to the FBI. Alex Ricci, the man seated next to Mr. Johansen, is a former hitman for the Arias drug cartel—”

Johansen leaped to his feet. “I find your allegations against Mr. Ricci both salacious and self-serving. It’s also very convenient those statements have been sealed—”

“It’s only convenient for you since those sealed statements allow you to make these baseless, ludicrous, and frankly, offensive accusations without the inconvenience of having actual facts thrown back in your face—”

From the corner of her eye, Spenser saw Kyra make a gesture as a small group of twenty-somethings, most of whom she didn’t recognize, jumped up and began shouting. Almost immediately, chaos descended over the auditorium, keeping Spenser from making a cogent defense for everybody to hear. Maggie banged her gavel and shouted into her microphone for quiet and order. Behind Spenser, she listened to the suddenly divided room shouting at each other. It was such a cacophonous racket that she couldn’t make out much of what anybody was actually shouting about.

On the dais in front of her, the members of the council all looked at each other, most of them with uneasy expressions on their faces. Town halls didn’t usually get so boisterous. But Spenser had an idea this was exactly the sort of chaos and division Johansen, Alex, and Kyra not only needed, but had been banking on. Maggie continued to bang her gavel and call for order and after several excruciatingly long minutes, the room finally settled down once more, any momentum Spenser had gathered in rebutting Johansen’s claims now lost.

“Since this is obviously such a hot button issue and nobody can seem to control their passions, the council has decided that we will discuss this matter further in chambers,” Maggie said. “Sheriff Song, Mr. Johansen, we will call you as needed. This meeting is adjourned.”

With a final rap of her gavel, the council got to their feet and departed through a side door. Once more, the room erupted into chaos. Behind her, Spenser heard Johansen and Alex sharing a laugh. She turned and gave them both a withering glare, tempted to light them both up. But she had no desire to further the bedlam in the auditorium, and frankly, didn’t trust herself to not say or do something to Alex that could be twisted, distorted, then used against her.

Instead, she walked out of the auditorium then left City Hall altogether, storming through the parking lot and into the night, not sure exactly where she was going, just knowing she needed to put some distance between her and those men.

Spenser stalked the streets of town, her mind spinning, unable to quell the fiery anger that flowed through her body. Without realizing how she’d even gotten there, Spenser found herself on the green in the town center. Save for one man playing his violin on the bandstand, the park was empty for a change. She sat down on the bench where she and Ryker had been enjoying their hot cocoa the other night when Kyra Foster showed up and ruined the evening, leaned back, and stared at the stars overhead as the gentle music washed over her.

Spenser closed her eyes and blew out a long breath, trying to ground and center herself again. The anger and wild, churning emotions bubbling in her belly weren’t doing her any favors. She needed a clear head. Now that she knew what Johansen’s plan of attack was, she needed to focus. She needed to be sharp. And she needed to find a way to combat his attacks.

It would be simple enough to blow their allegations out of the water and expose them as the frauds they were. All Spenser had to do was get her old supervisor in the New York field office, ASAC Clark Harris, to release the statements to her. But after he’d begged her to help them put Derrick away, and she’d told him to stuff it, Spenser didn’t think he’d be in the mood to do her any favors. He was a petty, vindictive man and would probably enjoy knowing it was her reputation and her career on the line.

“I’m so glad to finally get a chance to meet you. I’ve wanted to for so very long.”

The man’s voice came from behind her and made Spenser’s heart leap into her throat. She jumped to her feet and spun around, her hand automatically dropping to the Glock on her hip. Spenser found herself standing face to face with Alex Ricci, separated only by the bench that stood between them. Her body was taut, and though she managed to keep from pulling her weapon, she left her hand down on the butt, ready to go if needed. Alex’s eyes glittered, and a reptilian smile stretched across his thin lips.

“Easy, Sheriff. If you think the people in this backwater little town have turned against you now, just imagine how bad it’ll be if you gun down an unarmed man,” Alex said with an amused chuckle in his voice.

Alex held his jacket open and turned in place, letting her see that he was indeed unarmed. Spenser eased the tension out of her shoulders but left her hand resting on the butt of her weapon partly as a show of intimidation, partly because Alex was a former sicario and she didn’t know what he had in his bag of tricks. She’d already let him get behind her without her noticing, and Spenser would be damned if she let him get the drop on her again.

“I got your message,” Spenser said. “It was subtle.”

The smile that flitted across his lips told Spenser he caught her reference to the bullet he’d left sitting on her cabin porch.

“I must say I’m surprised at this shift in strategy.”