“Then why does it feel like I’m getting sandbagged?” Spenser asked as she gestured to where Kyra and Rafe were standing.
Maggie arched her eyebrow. “Have you done anything wrong?”
“No.”
“Then you’ll be fine.”
“What are those two doing? What’s the purpose of tonight’s town hall?”
Maggie looked down at her shoes and shuffled her feet. She pursed her lips, seemed unable to meet Spenser’s eyes, and remained silent.
“Maggie,” Spenser pressed. “What is tonight’s agenda?”
The mayor blew out a long breath and frowned. “Rafe Johansen is going to make a case for your impeachment and removal as sheriff.”
Spenser’s heart dropped into her stomach as she gaped at Maggie, stunned into silence for several long moments. Her throat was suddenly dry, and her vision wavered and grew blurry as she was assaulted by an overwhelming sense of the surreal. She swallowed hard and licked her parched lips, trying to work some moisture into her mouth.
“You have got to be kidding me,” was all she could say.
Maggie shook her head. “I wish I was.”
Spenser put her hands on her hips and turned in a circle, doing her best to stave off the greasy nausea that was churning and bubbling in her belly. The back of the throat was coated with the acrid taste of bile and her legs felt like they might give out beneath her.
“This cannot be happening,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry, Spenser—”
“Does he have a case? Does he have the council in his pocket?”
“What? No,” Maggie replied. “I can assure you he doesn’t have the council in his pocket.”
“But does he have a case?”
She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I have no idea what case he’s bringing.”
Seeing Johansen with Kyra told her all she needed to know about the case he’d be presenting to the council, and that sense of dread and doom wrapped around her chest like steel bands, like an anaconda, slowly squeezing the breath from her lungs.
“I do,” Spenser replied. “He’s going to piggyback on Kyra Foster’s hatchet job to try to convince the council that I framed my ex-partner and am sending an innocent man to prison.”
“Yeah. I kind of thought maybe that’s what was going on but wasn’t sure,” Maggie said. “But you know that story is absolute bunk. Everybody on the council knows it, too.”
“Do they, though? If Rafe is able to present a compelling case…”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Maggie said. “He’s going to speak but when he’s done, you need to stand up and present a rebuttal.”
“I shouldn’t have to justify the garbage—”
“You’re right. You shouldn’t. But this is where we’re at, Spenser.”
Spenser quieted the voices in her head as she tried to stop her mind from spinning and focus on the problem in front of her. She needed to divorce herself from the emotions this was all stirring up and get her head on straight. She needed a clear mind. And as the fog of her emotion, thick and suffocating, lifted, Spenser turned it all over in her head, looking at it from every angle possible. And that’s when she realized that this was all just a bit of theater.
Rafe had to know it would be impossible to impeach her when he was as light on fact and evidence of any wrongdoing as he was. He had no smoking gun with which to remove her from office. When she eliminated that possibility, the reason for this whole farce became so crystal clear and obvious, Spenser slapped her palm against her forehead.
“Of course,” she said.
“What is it?”
“Rafe knows he’ll never be able to get me impeached. This is all for show, Maggie. This bit of freaking kabuki isn’t intended to sway the council. It has nothing to do with them.”
“Then what is this about?”
“Look around. The auditorium is packed—”
“With voters,” she said.
“With voters. He’s making a case to the voters. This is nothing but a campaign event.”
Maggie shook her head as her expression darkened. “This is devious.”
It was definitely devious. But there was something that still bothered Spenser. It was true that she didn’t know Rafe and couldn’t attest to the man’s character. But what little she had learned about him made her think that he wasn’t the sort to slip around behind a person to stab them in the back. She’d thought he was more straightforward than that and preferred to look a person in the eye while he gutted them. Sandbagging somebody didn’t seem to be his style.
This, though… it was underhanded. It was, as Maggie said, devious. And that didn’t fit with what she knew about the man, little though it was. Of course, that sort of backhanded backstabbing seemed pretty on brand for Kyra Foster. The woman was a snake who would absolutely attack a person from the shadows when they least expected it. And as she watched them huddled together, likely discussing strategy, she had no doubt that unscrupulous union was why they were there. That, together, they had put this ball in motion.
That much felt right. But Spenser couldn’t shake the notion that there was more still in play.
“Come on,” Maggie said. “We should get in there.”
“Yeah.”
