conniving to make sure they would see first-hand.
Wolf and Rachette stepped to the metal door and knocked.
A rustle inside, and then the door opened and closed, then opened again.
Wendy Pollard poked her head out, followed by the scent of vodka. She squinted as if it were sunny, her hair was messy and matted on one side, and she was tightly wrapped in a torn lime green robe.
“Mrs. Pollard?” Wolf asked.
“Yes. Hi, Sheriff Wolf.”
“This is Deputy Rachette. May we come in to speak with you?”
“Yes. Please, come in. I’m sorry for the mess.” She opened the door wider. “My son, Ken, is coming over. I called him after you guys called. He should have been here by now.” She shook her head and bit a fingernail.
Wolf stepped up the stair and Rachette followed him in. Inside was black shag carpet, crusted with dried mud at the entrance and littered with tiny particles of trash throughout. In the kitchen, which was a counter, sink, and cabinets on the far wall, was a pile of dirty dishes that looked about to crash to the floor if they stepped too hard, and there was a line of vodka bottles on the floor against the near wall.
“Please, take a seat if you like.” Wendy sniffed and wiped the corner of a reddened eye.
She gestured to a brown loveseat that sagged in the middle.
“No thanks,” Wolf said.
“I saw the news. Did you find him up there?” She stood looking up at Wolf with desperately wide eyes.
Wolf nodded. “I’m afraid so. We’ve confirmed dental records with Dr. Unruh in town.”
“Can I see him?”
Wolf looked down at his hands. “Ma’am, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We really don’t need identification from you. It’s been a long—”
“Because his head was … I saw the news. I saw. I …” Wendy’s eyes dripped, and then she opened her mouth in a silent scream and buried her clenched fists in her eyes.
The first sound was a long moan. Body-wrenching sobs followed.
Wolf wanted to kill the person who had leaked the story, voiding any attempt to tactfully contact surviving family and friends. Instead, Mrs. Pollard’s 22-year nightmare emerged from hibernation and struck without warning on a television screen. Was one of the mutilated bodies her baby, Nick? Had she been so near him all these years? Unanswered questions and unresolved emotions undoubtedly choked her.
Wolf placed a hand on her shoulder as he made silent promises of retribution to God, the universe, and himself.
A car roared into the yard, and the driver braked hard. A car door slammed and hurried footfalls approached and the front door flew open. An overweight man in his forties with long hair and a beard barged inside.
“Mom,” he said.
“Ken Pollard?” Rachette asked.
Ken Pollard ignored Wolf and Rachette and walked to his mother, wrapping his arms around her. Wendy pulled her hands away from her face and wrapped them around her oldest son.
Rachette looked up at Wolf and Wolf gave him a nod. They both stepped back to a respectable distance and waited.
Wolf watched Ken cry just as hard as his mother, and he felt a wash of emotion pass through him. These people had been waiting for this moment for twenty-two years, and now it was here.
Ken glared at Wolf, and then at Rachette. What the hell kind of operation you guys running Dave? When were you going to tell us? It’s all over the news. I haven’t checked the mail. Maybe you sent us a postcard? Shit.”
Rachette sniffed. “Mr. Pollard, we—”
Wolf put a hand on Rachette’s shoulder. “I apologize to you Ken, and to you, too Mrs. Pollard. We wanted to confirm facts first and notify you second. The Medical Examiner made the positive ID late last night. It was my call to wait until this morning to notify you.”
Ken shook his head and gave his mother a quick embrace, and then stomped to the door and flung it open. “Get out. Please.”
“Ken, in order to find out who did this I need to speak to you guys. Ask you a
Wolf and Rachette stepped to the metal door and knocked.
A rustle inside, and then the door opened and closed, then opened again.
Wendy Pollard poked her head out, followed by the scent of vodka. She squinted as if it were sunny, her hair was messy and matted on one side, and she was tightly wrapped in a torn lime green robe.
“Mrs. Pollard?” Wolf asked.
“Yes. Hi, Sheriff Wolf.”
“This is Deputy Rachette. May we come in to speak with you?”
“Yes. Please, come in. I’m sorry for the mess.” She opened the door wider. “My son, Ken, is coming over. I called him after you guys called. He should have been here by now.” She shook her head and bit a fingernail.
Wolf stepped up the stair and Rachette followed him in. Inside was black shag carpet, crusted with dried mud at the entrance and littered with tiny particles of trash throughout. In the kitchen, which was a counter, sink, and cabinets on the far wall, was a pile of dirty dishes that looked about to crash to the floor if they stepped too hard, and there was a line of vodka bottles on the floor against the near wall.
“Please, take a seat if you like.” Wendy sniffed and wiped the corner of a reddened eye.
She gestured to a brown loveseat that sagged in the middle.
“No thanks,” Wolf said.
“I saw the news. Did you find him up there?” She stood looking up at Wolf with desperately wide eyes.
Wolf nodded. “I’m afraid so. We’ve confirmed dental records with Dr. Unruh in town.”
“Can I see him?”
Wolf looked down at his hands. “Ma’am, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We really don’t need identification from you. It’s been a long—”
“Because his head was … I saw the news. I saw. I …” Wendy’s eyes dripped, and then she opened her mouth in a silent scream and buried her clenched fists in her eyes.
The first sound was a long moan. Body-wrenching sobs followed.
Wolf wanted to kill the person who had leaked the story, voiding any attempt to tactfully contact surviving family and friends. Instead, Mrs. Pollard’s 22-year nightmare emerged from hibernation and struck without warning on a television screen. Was one of the mutilated bodies her baby, Nick? Had she been so near him all these years? Unanswered questions and unresolved emotions undoubtedly choked her.
Wolf placed a hand on her shoulder as he made silent promises of retribution to God, the universe, and himself.
A car roared into the yard, and the driver braked hard. A car door slammed and hurried footfalls approached and the front door flew open. An overweight man in his forties with long hair and a beard barged inside.
“Mom,” he said.
“Ken Pollard?” Rachette asked.
Ken Pollard ignored Wolf and Rachette and walked to his mother, wrapping his arms around her. Wendy pulled her hands away from her face and wrapped them around her oldest son.
Rachette looked up at Wolf and Wolf gave him a nod. They both stepped back to a respectable distance and waited.
Wolf watched Ken cry just as hard as his mother, and he felt a wash of emotion pass through him. These people had been waiting for this moment for twenty-two years, and now it was here.
Ken glared at Wolf, and then at Rachette. What the hell kind of operation you guys running Dave? When were you going to tell us? It’s all over the news. I haven’t checked the mail. Maybe you sent us a postcard? Shit.”
Rachette sniffed. “Mr. Pollard, we—”
Wolf put a hand on Rachette’s shoulder. “I apologize to you Ken, and to you, too Mrs. Pollard. We wanted to confirm facts first and notify you second. The Medical Examiner made the positive ID late last night. It was my call to wait until this morning to notify you.”
Ken shook his head and gave his mother a quick embrace, and then stomped to the door and flung it open. “Get out. Please.”
“Ken, in order to find out who did this I need to speak to you guys. Ask you a
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