“He’s dragging you through the mud, Spenser. If you want to beat him, you have to be willing to get down into the gutter with him.”
“I don’t know that I’m comfortable with that.”
“I know you’re not. But if you let him bloody you up without responding, it will make you seem weak. And that will be a problem for you. But if you go on the attack and knock him down a few times, that’s going to help.”
Spenser drained the last of her wine and set the glass back down gently, a dark melancholy settling down over her as she contemplated the idea of getting down into the mud with Johansen.
“I hate having to think about winning that way.”
“I know you do. Because you’re a good person,” Ryker said softly. “But Johansen is not. And this town can’t afford to have him doing your job. Which means you need to be willing to get into the ring and throw some blows.”
Spenser sighed and shook her head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to start. Where does one go to get dirt on somebody? I can’t imagine that’s something you can get off Amazon.”
Ryker flashed her a devious grin. “Let me handle that. I might have a guy.”
“I don’t know—”
“It’s necessary, Spenser. If for nothing else, you can use it as private leverage,” he said. “If we find something good, you might be able to make a deal with him—you won’t release it if he drops out. Something like that.”
“That’s brutal.”
“That’s politics,” he said. “And I’m sure you find it abhorrent, but your office is inherently political. So, you’re going to have to learn to embrace it.”
Spenser ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her empty wine glass, staring at the small puddle of dark purple liquid sitting in the bottom as she thought about what Ryker had said. It was distasteful, but her position was inherently political. That didn’t mean she had to like it, though. And as she sat there staring at her empty wine glass, Spenser felt her cheeks flush, no doubt reddening as a thought popped into her brain.
“What is it?” Ryker asked.
“Nothing. It’s just… I guess there’s some small part of me that thought people would be so impressed with me that nobody would run against me.”
“Well, to be fair, nobody in town has. Johansen’s not even from town.”
“No, but he’s buying a house here so he can claim residency.”
“Exactly. He’s carpetbagging. And nobody likes a carpetbagger,” Ryker said. “Trust me, I’m going to do some digging and I’ll let you know what I find. And I will find something. I promise you that nobody like Johansen gets to where they are without some skeletons in their closet. I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I’m going to find what’s in his boneyard.”
“You really are too good to me,” she said.
“I know. But you’re easy to be good to,” he chirped brightly. “Just relax. We’ve got you. We are not going to let you lose this election. I promise you.”
Spenser kissed him on the cheek. Though he’d managed to help make her feel lighter about things, not even Ryker and his magically soothing ways couldkeep all the darkness around her at bay. She’d have been lying if she said she wasn’t worried about Rafe Johansen. Especially because she knew that while she was going to be looking for dirt on him, he’d be looking for dirt on her.
And Spenser feared she had more skeletons in her closet than he had in his. She was terrified of what he might find when he went digging.
With the town’s annual Strawberry Festival in full swing, the sound of music filled the air. It blended the animated conversations and laughter of the festivalgoers, and the divine aroma of strawberries prepared in a thousand different ways, creating a light, festive atmosphere. Spenser closed her eyes and breathed in the fragrance of strawberry shortcakes, sheet cakes, donuts, jams, and the host of other pastries vying for the blue ribbon and the bragging rights that went with it in the bake-off.
“Wow. That look on your face is so indecent, it’s making me blush,” she said. “You must really enjoy strawberries. Like, a lot.”
Spenser opened her eyes to see Amanda Young, her second-in-command, standing there with a sly grin on her heart-shaped lips. A couple of inches shorter than Spenser, Amanda was lean and had a lithe, dancer’s physique. With ash-blonde hair pulled back into a braid that fell to the middle of her back and jade-colored eyes that always seemed to sparkle mischievously, she was in many ways, the yin to Spenser’s yang.
“I do. Strawberries are one of my favorite things.”
“Clearly.”
“Shut it,” Spenser said with a laugh.
She and Amanda were different in most ways, save a few. They shared the same motivation and determination to do their jobs to the best of their abilities and to seek out the truth wherever it might hide. Like Spenser, Amanda sought to continually learn, grow, and evolve. She wanted to be the best cop she could be and always sought to do things the right way. She was intelligent, intuitive, and had a natural feel around a crime scene. She saw things differently and wasn’t afraid to give her opinion, which was something Spenser saw as an asset.
Amanda’s biggest problem was her lack of experience. Under Spenser’s predecessor, Amanda never really got a chance to shine. Her predecessor didn’t put much stock in female deputies. But Spenser had recognized the younger woman’s talent and passion from the start and was doing everything she could to nurture that. She thought that one day, Amanda would make a fantastic sheriff. That was yet another thing, though, that wouldn’t happen if Rafe Johansen took the job from her since he would undoubtedly clean house once he assumed office, sweeping out all those he perceived to be loyal to her.
“I take it you’re not a big fan of strawberries?” Spenser asked.
“Obviously, not nearly as big a fan as you.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
She shrugged. “They’re okay. I mean, I like strawberry jam on my peanut butter sandwich once in a while. But that’s about it,” she replied. “This is one of my least favorite festivals of the year, to be honest.”
“You’re a godless heathen.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Oh, are we finally going to talk about your boyfriend?”
Amanda guffawed. “No. No, we’re not.”
