Murder in the Mist by Loretta C. Rogers Page A

malevolence. Tonight he felt that dark, hungry spirit awakening. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he was Benjamin . He needed to keep Bennie asleep. Bennie enjoyed hurting women. Bennie was evil.
    A man’s voice called, “Amber?”
    She answered, “Coming,” and rose from the log, brushed the back of her jeans, and walked into the RV.
    Benjamin stepped back deeper into the shadows.
    The voice inside his head said, It’s been ten years . You’ve missed me, Benjamin. Admit it.
    No! Go away, Bennie. Leave me alone.
    By the time he returned to the cabin, his heart was pumping, his breathing labored, his sweat-soaked shirt clung to him like a second skin, and he trembled. He needed to control himself.
    Bennie whispered in his ear. We need to plan, to get the time and place of meeting just right.
    Benjamin had learned from his mistakes. This time, he would woo her. She would love him; she wouldn’t scream.
    His clothes bound him. He stripped down naked and stepped into the shower, allowing cold water to slowly, cell by cell, cool his brain.

Chapter Eight
    The bell over the entry door alerted Laura. She stepped from the back room, her arms loaded with morgue books. “Good morning, Deputy Carter.” She gave a nod toward the coffeepot. “Fresh coffee. Help yourself.”
    He held a bag forward. “Peace offering. I didn’t exactly exude good manners the second time we met.”
    Laura set the large books on the desk. She accepted the sack, opened it, and smiled. “How does a deputy from Texas know that a certain girl reporter is nuts for cream cheese Danish?” She used a napkin to lift one out, then offered the bag back to Mitch.
    “I’m sworn to secrecy.”
    “If I guess, will you be breaking the law or anything like that to tell me?”
    He poured his coffee, then sat across the desk from Laura. “Maybe.”
    Laura took a bite of the still-warm confection. Although she knew the conspirator, she took her time before answering. “The person who makes the best ever desserts of any kind is Maudie Perry, and her best friend since childhood is Phyllis Friday, and since Aunt Philly has always been a sucker for a guy in uniform, I’ll lay my money on her being the inside informant.”
    Mitch chuckled. “Like I said before, I’m not a betting man. But you win.”
    They passed the next few minutes with pleasantries before Mitch grew serious. “I wanted to let you know that the medical examiner’s report came in last night. Official cause of Victor Forgione’s death—arsenic poisoning. Had it not been for you detecting the garlic odor, his beautiful bride of six months would be living on some exotic island and spending his billions instead of standing trial for murder. In a few months, she’ll trade her bikini for prison coveralls. Good call, Friday.”
    Laura exaggerated the fluttering of her eyelids. “Why, shucks, deputy, I was just doing my job.” She offered her hand across the desk. “Truce?”
    He accepted it. “You stepped on my ego, Friday. That’s pretty dang tough on a Texan.”
    Setting her mug aside, she leaned forward, arms crossed on the desk. “Sorry. Hope we can be friends, especially since we’ll be working together.”
    Mitch looked around, then back at Laura. “Did I miss something? Working together?”
    “Yeah, you know, sheriff’s office, newspaper office, exchanging facts, clues. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” She hastened to correct the last bit. “Well, scratch the scratching. I didn’t mean that literally. By the way, you have a mole in your office.”
    Mitch scrunched his brows together. “Mole…as in…snitch?”
    “Yes. Louise Highland is the biggest gossip in town. She couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. The woman thrives on telling tales, and with embellishment. Not to knock a dent in your ego armor, but I already knew about the medical examiner’s report. I thought it professional courtesy to wait until you told me.”
    “You’re not