Chapter 4: Boys' Club*

Marie Kanker strode into the Peach Creek police station, her jaw clenched and her eyes forward. She made sure to stick to her personal style rather than wear the small town police uniform. If they were going to treat her like she didn't belong, she'd dress like she could kick their ass. Her biker boots and tight black jeans never failed to intimidate people. It had been a few days since she'd started digging into the string of murders, and she needed those autopsy reports if she was going to make any headway. But the station was no different than it had been when she first walked through those doors. It was still the same old boys' club, and Marie was an outsider—a woman, no less—in their eyes.

She could feel their stares as she crossed the lobby, their muttered comments just quiet enough that she couldn't make out the words but loud enough to make their intentions clear. Marie ignored them, walking straight toward the records room where she hoped the coroner's reports were filed.

As she passed the bullpen, a couple of the officers exchanged glances, smirking. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered officer named Reynolds, leaned back in his chair and called after her.

"Hey, Kanker, whatcha doing here so early? Thought you'd be out getting your nails done or something."

The others chuckled. Marie's hand twitched at her side, but she didn't stop walking. She knew better than to give them the satisfaction of a response.

When she reached the records clerk's desk, a thin, wiry man named Higgins was sitting there, looking bored. He glanced up when he saw Marie, then immediately frowned. "What do you need, Kanker?"

"I'm looking for the autopsy reports on the recent homicides," she said, keeping her voice firm and professional.

Higgins sighed dramatically and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know if that's something you need to be looking at, to be honest. That's up to the real detectives."

Marie's patience was already wearing thin. "The sheriff assigned me to this case, Higgins. If you don't believe me, feel free to ask him yourself."

The clerk snorted. "Sure, whatever you say." He lazily pulled open a drawer, flipping through a stack of files. "Gimme a sec."

As she waited, Marie caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Kevin, now a member of the city council, swaggered into the station like he owned the place. He'd grown into his cocky attitude, his once lean frame now filled out and clad in an expensive suit. He looked every bit the smarmy politician he'd grown up to be.

"Where's Langley?" Kevin called out as he strolled toward the sheriff's office.

Marie tensed. Of course, Kevin would be here. She'd heard that he'd risen quickly in the local political scene, his connections with people like the sheriff no doubt helping him grease the right wheels. As he walked past her, he slowed down just enough to give her a once-over.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Marie Kanker," Kevin said with a smirk. "I heard you were back in town. Guess you couldn't hack it in the big leagues, huh?"

Marie glared at him, but Kevin just chuckled. "You know, I always thought you'd settle down by now. Maybe have a couple of kids, be a real woman and all. But here you are, still playing pretend. Shouldn't you be at home? Taking care of some poor guy, maybe? That's what you're good for, right? Maybe you can come be my housewife, take care of all my needs." He emphasized 'my needs' and winked at Marie, clearly thinking she'd buy his smarmy charm.

The nearby officers snickered, and Marie's fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to lash out, to tell Kevin exactly where he could shove his sexist comments, but she knew better. She'd heard worse over the years, and she wasn't going to let him bait her into a scene. Not here. Not with all these eyes watching her.

Instead, she shot him a cold smile. "I'd rather be chasing down killers than playing lapdog for a bunch of spineless politicians. But hey, Kevin, whatever makes you feel important."

Kevin's smirk faded slightly, but before he could respond, Sheriff Langley stepped out of his office.

"Kevin," the sheriff said, his tone friendly but commanding, "You ready for our meeting?"

Kevin glanced between Marie and the sheriff, then gave her one last look before turning away. "Yeah, let's do this."

As they walked off toward the back of the station, Marie could still hear the faint sound of laughter from the officers behind her. Her blood boiled.

Finally, Higgins, without actually going to find the files, held up his hands in defeat "Sorry, Kanker, can't seem to find the autopsy reports right now. Must have been misfiled. You'll have to come back later."

Marie clenched her jaw tight as she stormed out of the station, the laughter of the officers still ringing in her ears. As she walked back to her car, she could feel the familiar burn of anger beneath her skin, her hands trembling as she gripped the steering wheel tighter.

She was tired of this. Tired of the sexist remarks, the dismissive attitudes, the endless condescension. If these murders were happening to people who mattered—to people who lived in Peach Creek's nicer neighborhoods, with their white-picket fences and perfect families—there'd be more of an effort. The police would care. The council would care. She missed her team at the FBI, people who cared about helping others and respected their team members.

But here, the victims didn't matter to them. They were "high-risk," easy to ignore.

And she was done playing nice.

Kevin's comment had been more than just an insult. He was flirting and playing some kind of game with her. She had a gut feeling—a profiler's instinct. There was something off about Kevin. She didn't know what yet, but she was going to find out.