Beastnights by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

Author:Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2015-07-06T20:55:51+00:00

13

Sheriff Hislop beamed at the roomful of reporters, his eyes narrowing against the bright lights. “I’m very pleased to see you all,” he said, his rich, low voice giving this banality the luster of warmth and sincerity. He waited while the last buzz of conversation and instructions faded, then he launched into what he had summoned them to hear. “We are on our third day of intensified patrol of Briones Park, which we have accomplished with the aid of the Park Rangers and their volunteer search-and-rescue squads. In this week before Christmas, I think this selfless service is especially praiseworthy. Those Rangers and their volunteer assistants are giving up part of their holiday celebrations to spend hours on patrol. Thus far, there has been no further atrocity, and this convinces me that we are on the right track for ensuring the safety of the general public.”

“There hasn’t been any nighttime rain since the patrols were increased,” one of the reporters pointed out.

The Sheriff beamed at her. “I’m glad you brought up that theory. I’ve read it myself, and it is an interesting one—good copy, a killer who strikes only in the rain. But as you know, there is no conclusive evidence that this theory is correct, and some of the speculation I’ve seen on the subject borders on being irresponsible. It does not help the public to be told that no danger exists when we are not sure of that. My office has had calls from women who want to know if they’re safe if it isn’t raining. That is the result of the stories many of you have reported, and it disturbs me.” He was chiding them now, and he used his voice with an actor’s skill. “Ladies and gentlemen of the news media, you have an obligation to inform the public—you get no argument from me on that. But I must remind you that the other part of the obligation is that you will inform the public of confirmed facts, not speculation and rumor. Those of you who have stressed the sensational aspects of these tragedies have done so at the cost of accuracy and the cause of justice.”

Eugene Protheroe, seated in the third row, smirked to himself. No wonder the deputies disliked their Sheriff so much, he thought as he raised his hand. “Sheriff Hislop, I wonder if you’d care to speculate on how much longer these patrols will be necessary?”

“Well,” said Hislop after a slight hesitation, “I’m in no position to say at present—”

“Because,” Protheroe went on, “if the murderer is not apprehended fairly soon, wouldn’t you say that these patrols might be difficult and costly to continue? I realize that many of the patrol groups are volunteers, but they have vehicles and horses to maintain, and some of that is being done, at least in part, at county expense, isn’t it?” And that, he thought to himself, ought to set the fox among the chickens.

There was an eager rustle in the room; on the dais Sheriff Hislop had become less affable.

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