Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2) by Sonya Bateman

Christ, it was bad enough killing actual bad guys. I wasn’t going to murder some small-town cop, probably making a routine traffic stop, just because there was a remote chance he might be Milus Dei. By that reasoning, we might as well kill every human we met, just in case. “We wait and see what he wants,” I said.
    “And if he is Milus Dei?” Taeral drawled. “What is your plan then, brother?”
    I sighed. “Well, we’ve got the guns in one of those bags,” I said. No one questioned that. I’d kept a few that we’d taken from the dead guys left in the Hive. Figured we’d probably need them out here. “Just…make that the last resort, okay?”
    Sadie gave a tight nod, and Taeral huffed an irritated breath.
    Finally, the driver’s side door of the cop car opened and a figure in a trooper-style hat got out to approach the van slowly. I lowered my window, watching in the mirror for any sign of aggression or attack. There was a hand near the gun, but no move was made to draw it. Then the figure reached the window.
    She was a woman. Early forties, watchful features and sharp eyes. Khaki uniform with a star on the breast pocket, and Sheriff Gormann stitched beneath it. Not just a deputy, then.
    The actual sheriff pulling people over was not a good sign.
    “License and registration please, sir,” she said, her gaze traveling as much as she could see inside the van before settling on me, unblinking. Now her hand rested on the gun at her hip—casual, but ready. The please had been less polite wait-and-see, more firm command.
    She wasn’t Milus Dei, but she was looking for something specific. And whatever it was, she suspected she’d found it.
    “Is there a problem, Officer?” I said as I reached for my wallet, feeling like the world’s biggest cliché. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
    “License and registration,” she repeated.
    Damn. Something had definitely roused her suspicions, but I had no idea what. I knew the best approach was to say as little as possible, and wait until she started asking questions. So I handed her my license, and then the registration from the band beneath the driver’s side visor.
    “Sit tight. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the sheriff said, and walked away.
    I didn’t let out my breath until she’d climbed back in her cruiser. “This isn’t right,” I said. “Sheriffs don’t handle traffic stops personally. Something must’ve happened in this town. Maybe she just stopped me because she didn’t recognize the vehicle.”
    Taeral adjusted his seat on the floor, sliding a little further back. “Perhaps we should leave now, before she returns,” he said.
    “She has my license. I need that,” I said. “Besides, everything’s clean. We just have to wait for her to run it. I’m sure she’ll let us go.”
    “Not necessarily.” Sadie watched the mirror as if she expected a war to break out behind us. “Small-town cops don’t like letting people go. Especially strangers. If something did happen here, and we have anything that might tie into it, she’ll probably hold us.”
    “Great.” We couldn’t afford spending a few hours in some backwoods police station while the locals investigated. Sadie and I might pass, but I doubted Taeral had any form of identification that would stand up to even a cursory check. “Any suggestions? That don’t involve shooting her?” I added in case Taeral thought that was still on the table.
    Sadie cleared her throat. “I guess I’ll have to play the hometown card,” she said. “Whatever I say, don’t disagree with me. Got it?”
    We both got it.
    The wait was a bit longer than the first time, but Sheriff Gormann eventually returned to the window and handed my paperwork back. Her face was still guarded and expressionless. “You’re coming from New York City, Mr. Black?” she said.
    I nodded. “That’s right,” I said as I replaced my license.
    “What brings you through Elk Heights?”
    “I grew up