Stone Cold Crazy (Lil & Boris #4) (Lil and Boris Mysteries) by Shannon Hill

in place of her spine. “What’s that mean?”
    For an English teacher, she was being awfully dense. “It means, do you have anyone who’d want to hurt you?”
    “Of course not.”
    “You’re a high school teacher,” I pointed out patiently. “Someone’s going to hate you.”
    “Of course, people hate me. You asked if they’d hurt me. That’s quite different.”
    “Not as different as you think. Have you received any threats?”
    “No. Not even a single muttered profanity in my direction.”
    I was going to be double-checking that with the school and her husband. “Okay, that’s all I have for now. Thanks for your time.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    I peeled Boris away from his chair and had gotten to my cruiser when my cell rang. It was Tom. “Lil, you gotta come right quick.”
    I started the engine and cranked up the air conditioner. “Why are you whispering?”
    “I don’t want them hearing me. Lil, get back here quick!”
    He hung up. Great. Now what?
    I rolled up to the office and found a dark blue sedan in my parking spot. Taking the only remaining shade.
    It had government plates.
    I got a very bad feeling. I opened the door to the office with my chest tight and my stomach twisting. Why would there be feds at my office? What was this, Old Home Week?
    The two guys might as well have had FBI stamped on their foreheads. Short hair, white shirts, dark suits probably gotten from a mall, conservative ties. “I’m Sheriff Eller,” I said, putting Boris on my desk. “What can I do for you?”
    “Give us everything you have on yesterday’s bombing.”
    I kept the smile nailed on. Aunt Marge did teach me manners. The tact didn’t stick, but the manners had. Mostly. “And to whom am I giving my case?”
    The older of the two men, probably in his early fifties, rolled his eyes slightly and handed over his ID. Authentic. “Special Agent Howard, and this is Special Agent Newsome. I’m afraid this case has gone federal, Sheriff.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t see how.”
    “Senator Daniel Weed is concerned that this attack was directed at him.”
    I didn’t bother asking how Senator Weed heard about it. We’d made the news up in Charlottesville and down in Lynchburg. The family’s name wasn’t mentioned, but it wouldn’t take much to find out. One call to someone’s aunt or grandma or cousin would do it.
    I put up a fight, as much as I could. “Prove the connection, you can have everything. Till then, it’s my case.”
    Howard pulled out paperwork. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. At first glance, I agree there’s no cause for concern, but the flyer…”
    Newsome and Tom were locked in a high-testosterone chat, full of too-polite comments. I lowered my voice, one hand on Boris’s fur. “How the hell’d you know about that flyer? You ignoring Fourth Amendment rights?”
    Howard scowled. “They’ve been posted all over a three-county area. Including the senator’s home county.”
    I rallied. “Isn’t this more Secret Service stuff? Capitol Police?”
    For clarification, the Secret Service provides protection details when needed. The Capitol police investigate crimes against Congressmen. But the FBI does, in fact, investigate threats against them, too.
    “State police?” I tried. Lieutenant Breeden’s mother runs his life, and Aunt Marge is good at pulling her strings.
    “Look,” said Howard, “we’re not thrilled, but first he hears about those flyers a few days ago, now there’s a bomb…‌And you know that guy works for the DOT, so we could get pissy about it if you really want to.”
    He had me. Adam Weed works for the USDOT.
    I studied Howard. He studied me. We came to a silent agreement. I wouldn’t play SuperBitch, he wouldn’t be MegaJerk. “State lab has the physical evidence, I’ll e-mail you my notes on the interviews with the family.”
    “Thanks. I’ll let you know what we find out, and if we’re going to be arresting anyone in your jurisdiction.”
    “My jurisdiction