Special Agent's Perfect Cover by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

holstered weapon as he regarded Hawk.
    “Anything else I can do for you?” Fargo asked.
    Hawk knew the value of retreat in order to regroup for another time, another battle. “I’ll let you know, Chief,” he promised noncommittally, just before he turned and walked away.
    “You won’t have any trouble finding me,” Fargo called after him. “I patrol these streets pretty regularly. Seeing me among ’em is what keeps folks on the straight and narrow.”
    “Got it,” Hawk replied without bothering to turn around. He did his best not to sound dismissive.
    When he had initially left town, he remembered that Fargo had been a deputy, not the sheriff and certainly nothing as pretentious sounding as “chief of police.” In addition, the man had also been the town bully, more given to causing trouble than to quelling it. Fargo took over, according to the information that he’d collected, when the old sheriff died in a freak accident.
    He wondered just how much of it had been an accident and how much had involved a freak. Might just be something else to investigate, Hawk thought, after he cleared up this matter of the five women’s murders.
    Crossing to his car, Hawk blew out a breath. Just what the hell had happened here in the past five years or so? Five years was also about the time that the first body had turned up. And that coincided with another piece of information that the Bureau had discovered about Grayson and his band of not-so-merry-men. They had descended on the town, under the guise of being business “investors,” and started buying up property with the intention of making renovations five years ago.
    He’d read the reports that had been compiled, but he’d never dreamed the extent to which all this actually went. Grayson had transformed everything, as well as everyone he encouraged to remain in the town, creating what he freely touted as being “paradise on earth.”
    There was no such thing and they all knew it, Hawk thought, getting into his car. Or were supposed to know it.
    After closing the door, he fastened his seat belt. What Grayson had really created was a town of zombies. Key in hand, Hawk remained sitting in his car, observing the people on Main Street for a few more minutes. He was acutely aware that Fargo was watching him watch the good citizens of Cold Plains.
    It struck him in less than another minute that there was something really wrong with this scenario, something that went beyond the inane smiles and the overly neat clothing. Didn’t anyone get dirty anymore? Not even the kids? What he noticed was that there wasn’t a single neutral expression in the whole lot.
    It wasn’t possible for everyone to actually be happy at the same time, just as it wasn’t possible that they all looked so perfect. No one was limping or stumbling, no one was coughing or sneezing. What the hell had the great God Grayson done, outlawed allergies, colds and imperfections? Had the man also managed to outlaw plain people? Because there were no plain people on these streets, certainly not ugly people, at least as far as his eye could see.
    Something was very, very wrong here.
    Fargo, apparently, had decided to surrender his passive role as observer, because the man was now on the move, heading straight for him, Hawk realized. In response, Hawk switched on his ignition and started his car.
    For now, he wanted to get back to the cabin outside of town to make sure that the task force he’d put together was settled in. He’d picked good people, but he had an uneasy feeling that before this was over, they would need reinforcements.
    Lots of them.
     
     
    Carly could feel her insides shaking.
    From the first floor window of her classroom, she’d covertly watched Fargo and Hawk regarding one another, two stags about to lock horns. She’d prayed that Hawk would have the good sense to leave before something bad happened.
    When Fargo started walking toward Hawk, she thought her pounding heart would break one of