The Summerland Read Online Free PDF Page A

could go from warm, fuzzy laziness to iceberg pure in a heartbeat. To a man with Drebin’s training and inherent gift at reading people, those eyes spoke volumes about Ashton’s character and the hellish circumstances he’d found himself in.
    He wondered why a man who’d graduated magna cum laude from San Jose State with a Bachelor’s Degree in Behavioral Science and a Masters in Criminal Justice Administration would want to be a cop, of all things. Just passing that damn course made him the best of the best. He could have been working side-by-side with Drebin at the FBI with that kind of education. He knew Ashton had pulled a few years with LAPD and even served some time in Homicide. Why in the world he would want to come back to this little pisser of a town was beyond him.
    “ Assist, huh?” The lanky Sheriff asked, cocking a brow as he slouched toward the battered desk, casually plucking the sports bag from it’s centerpiece position amongst piles of paperwork and settling it next to his chair. “I heard about the last time you guys were up here. Even though I was LAPD at the time, I saw how you all ‘assisted’. Regardless, you’re here. Mind if I see some ID before we get started?”
    Drebin dipped his head to hide a smirk. “Listen Sheriff, I’m not here to get in a pissing match. I’ve been assigned to you to assist, just as I said. Here’s my badge and business card.” He leaned back in the chair and watched the sheriff as he verified Drebin’s credentials. His gaze stole over the sports bag sitting so invitingly on the floor next to the big cowboy’s chair. He watched the way the Sheriff watched him watching the bag. There was most definitely something going on here.
    While Ashton certainly fit the stereotype of the homeboy county sheriff, he was becoming more intrigued as their meeting progressed. He dealt with Drebin’s office in Virginia in a professional, crisp manner totally belied by his sleepy looks and simple attire of jeans, boots and western shirt. The department outside the Sheriff’s door was well run and seemed to be respected by the townsfolk, which was certainly a change over past administrations.
    From what Drebin had read, the Sheriff’s Department had been hopelessly corrupt until the local boy, Ashton, had turned his back on the existing system of drug trade and kickbacks and decided that justice was the cause to follow. The town had prospered under the new reign, and had been doing so for five years now. The result seemed to be a drowsy little tourist town rocked by the unprecedented discovery of five dead bodies.
    Ashton returned his card and badge as he hung up the telephone. “Thank you sir. Now, what can I do for you?”
    Drebin smiled, his white teeth a magnificent contrast to his ebony skin. “Well now, let’s just get acquainted first. I’m Special Agent Frank Drebin of the FBI. I belong to the Behavioral Sciences Unit at Quantico and I’m here, not happily I might add, at the request of your governor. As you know, he has considerable pull with my department, since he spent a good portion of his life as an agent. I was in The City reviewing case files on something else when the call came in. I get all the way up here and discover five dead bodies and a Sheriff who likes to project the Opie image, but seems to have everything under control so far. Care to tell me why the hell I’m here?”
    The eyes that measured Drebin across the cheap metal desk were cool and composed, yet looked like they had been through hell. Drebin decided it was an interesting dichotomy and filed it away for future reference.
    “ I’d imagine you’re here because we have five female vics, shot execution-style and left in what appears to be a ceremonial manner along the side of a road that no one travels on. Jane Doe Five looks to be dead only a week, and unless I miss my guess the ME will tell me, to his closest approximation, that a body has been left each and every year for the past