the flashlight from his belt and waved it along the ground for several seconds before mumbling, “Huh.”
“What?” Patrick asked.
The sheriff remained squatting, still shining the flashlight on the ground. “Kinda muddy.”
“So?” Amy said.
The sheriff glanced up at Amy, a mild look of annoyance now trumping the uncomfortable berth he’d initially given her. When he brought his attention back down to the ground, he proceeded to wave the flashlight over the muddy grass in slow, deliberate circles. “I can’t make out a shoe print. Can you?” he asked.
Patrick squatted down next to the sheriff. “Can I borrow that?” he asked, nodding his head towards the flashlight.
The sheriff seemed reluctant, but eventually clicked his teeth and said, “Sure thing.”
Patrick took the flashlight, waved the cylinder of light over the area beneath the window. He saw nothing that resembled the tread of a shoe or a boot, but he did see something. “There’s a few indentations here,” he said. “It kind of looks like the earth was pressed flat in spots. Maybe he was barefoot?”
The sheriff stood slowly upright, groaning more so than he’d done during his descent. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I can’t see a man running around out here without a pair of shoes on. Wooded area like this would tear his feet to bits. Hardly worth it for a little peepshow.”
Amy made no attempt to hide her disgust over the sheriff’s choice of words.
Patrick stood and handed the flashlight back to the sheriff. “So then how do you explain what my wife saw?”
The sheriff clicked off the flashlight, hooked it back onto his belt, and let out a long sigh, the delay in his response seemingly intentional, as though he considered his wisdom a privilege, worth the wait.
“Can’t say for sure,” he finally said. He faced Amy. “It’s obvious you’re quite upset, miss. And I don’t doubt your word. If you’re friends with Lorraine and Norm here then I’m sure you’re decent folks who would have no reason to make up such a story.” He turned back to Patrick. “You say you went out after the guy.”
“Yeah, I told you that.”
“How soon?”
“What?”
The sheriff enunciated slowly. “After your wife spotted the man, how soon after did you go out looking for him?”
Patrick struggled for a quick response. The sheriff’s patronizing tone made him feel guilty for some reason. “I don’t know—a minute maybe? I had to throw on some pants and shoes first.”
“And you say you never saw the guy in the window to begin with? Nobody was there when you looked?”
“That’s right.”
“But you still went out anyway.”
“Absolutely. I trust my wife.”
“How long did you look for him again?” The sheriff didn’t look at Patrick when he spoke; his flashlight was out again, waving about their surroundings, more obligatory than necessary.
“I don’t know—a few minutes? I kind of ran the perimeter of the cabin a few times, then wandered further out.”
“But you never saw anyone.”
Patrick gritted his teeth and steadied himself. “No.”
The sheriff looked at Norman. “What about you, Norm? You see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Lorraine and I were asleep.”
The sheriff nodded once and clicked the flashlight off. A brief moment of silence followed. The cacophony of chirps and clicks from the surrounding nightlife echoed throughout the dark surroundings. Such sounds were usually demoted to white noise after only a few minutes of exposure, but now they seemed intent on rising above their disregarded status in a bid to set an ominous mood for current events.
“Well,” the sheriff finally said, holstering the flashlight again, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat, “I’ve got all your information. I’ll alert my deputies to keep an eye out for anyone fitting the description you gave me, and I’ll send a cruiser out periodically this weekend to do a brief check around the area. My guess is that if there
“What?” Patrick asked.
The sheriff remained squatting, still shining the flashlight on the ground. “Kinda muddy.”
“So?” Amy said.
The sheriff glanced up at Amy, a mild look of annoyance now trumping the uncomfortable berth he’d initially given her. When he brought his attention back down to the ground, he proceeded to wave the flashlight over the muddy grass in slow, deliberate circles. “I can’t make out a shoe print. Can you?” he asked.
Patrick squatted down next to the sheriff. “Can I borrow that?” he asked, nodding his head towards the flashlight.
The sheriff seemed reluctant, but eventually clicked his teeth and said, “Sure thing.”
Patrick took the flashlight, waved the cylinder of light over the area beneath the window. He saw nothing that resembled the tread of a shoe or a boot, but he did see something. “There’s a few indentations here,” he said. “It kind of looks like the earth was pressed flat in spots. Maybe he was barefoot?”
The sheriff stood slowly upright, groaning more so than he’d done during his descent. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I can’t see a man running around out here without a pair of shoes on. Wooded area like this would tear his feet to bits. Hardly worth it for a little peepshow.”
Amy made no attempt to hide her disgust over the sheriff’s choice of words.
Patrick stood and handed the flashlight back to the sheriff. “So then how do you explain what my wife saw?”
The sheriff clicked off the flashlight, hooked it back onto his belt, and let out a long sigh, the delay in his response seemingly intentional, as though he considered his wisdom a privilege, worth the wait.
“Can’t say for sure,” he finally said. He faced Amy. “It’s obvious you’re quite upset, miss. And I don’t doubt your word. If you’re friends with Lorraine and Norm here then I’m sure you’re decent folks who would have no reason to make up such a story.” He turned back to Patrick. “You say you went out after the guy.”
“Yeah, I told you that.”
“How soon?”
“What?”
The sheriff enunciated slowly. “After your wife spotted the man, how soon after did you go out looking for him?”
Patrick struggled for a quick response. The sheriff’s patronizing tone made him feel guilty for some reason. “I don’t know—a minute maybe? I had to throw on some pants and shoes first.”
“And you say you never saw the guy in the window to begin with? Nobody was there when you looked?”
“That’s right.”
“But you still went out anyway.”
“Absolutely. I trust my wife.”
“How long did you look for him again?” The sheriff didn’t look at Patrick when he spoke; his flashlight was out again, waving about their surroundings, more obligatory than necessary.
“I don’t know—a few minutes? I kind of ran the perimeter of the cabin a few times, then wandered further out.”
“But you never saw anyone.”
Patrick gritted his teeth and steadied himself. “No.”
The sheriff looked at Norman. “What about you, Norm? You see anything out of the ordinary?”
“Lorraine and I were asleep.”
The sheriff nodded once and clicked the flashlight off. A brief moment of silence followed. The cacophony of chirps and clicks from the surrounding nightlife echoed throughout the dark surroundings. Such sounds were usually demoted to white noise after only a few minutes of exposure, but now they seemed intent on rising above their disregarded status in a bid to set an ominous mood for current events.
“Well,” the sheriff finally said, holstering the flashlight again, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat, “I’ve got all your information. I’ll alert my deputies to keep an eye out for anyone fitting the description you gave me, and I’ll send a cruiser out periodically this weekend to do a brief check around the area. My guess is that if there
Similar Books
