The sheriff studied me, hard gaze never leaving my face. I didn't recall ever meeting anyone quite this intense before. The silence grew tense and awkward, and I dropped my focus to his desk.
"Taylor Hansen," I read his wooden nameplate aloud. "You're Taylor Hansen!" Did Carter know the man I sought would find me instead of me finding him?
"Funny thing, ma'am, the other girls got that same look on their faces when they heard my name," he replied dryly.
Carter would've told me if he sent others back. I didn't believe the sheriff's tales about other girls fully. It sounded like entrapment to me, though it did make sense that conniving people would try to take advantage in an era where a woman was defined by her father and husband's money and status. Itching to text my handler, I clasped my hands in my lap to keep from snatching my phone.
"Who were these other girls?" I asked carefully. "Why do you think I'm one of them?"
"What should concern you more is what happened to them. No one saw them leave town."
A chill went down my back. Was the good sheriff threatening me or warning me? From his expression, I wasn't certain. The tension between us was thick enough to make me uncomfortable, and he watched me like he might a bluffing poker player while I tried not to stare at one of the most attractive men I had ever met.
"If there's something I need to know, ma'am …" He trailed off.
"Not to my knowledge, Sheriff," I replied. "You found no trace of the other girls?"
"None."
"And they just appeared at random?"
"From the sky. Like you did."
I stared at him. Now that made me want to hide in a cell and call Carter. It was one of the rare moments in my life where I was speechless. What was worse: I suddenly recalled why I hadn't taken a third drama class in college - because I was a terrible liar and an even worse actress.
"Sheriff." Philip's intrusion couldn't have come at a better time. "What business do you have with my cousin?"
I almost sighed.
The moment he stepped foot in the office, the empathic memories began working. I tried not to react to the scenes flowing from my faux-cousin, not when I knew how closely the sheriff was watching.
Why did they work for Philip but not the man identified by Carter? Was the sheriff testing me the same way Philip had?
"My business, Philip," the sheriff responded, ignoring the wealthy man's pointed tone.
"Consider it over."
"For now," the sheriff allowed.