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“Name, Erica,” I push. She turns on her heels and stomps down the driveway to her car, pulling open her door and reaching in to grab a folder. She turns and starts to open it, but I grab it from her hand. She starts to say something, but I give her a smile and she stops. Her cheeks turn pink. She combs her fingers through her straight long brown hair.
I open the file, ignoring her. Mark Young, the file reads as I scan it. For years he’s been making payments on time and in full until they just stopped one month ago out of the blue. I close the folder and hand it back to her.
“Thanks.” I jog toward my cruiser, wanting to get back to my office and do a check. I hear an, “I’ll call you,” from behind me. I ignore her. The name Mark Young bounces around in my head. I feel like I’ve heard it before, but I can’t put my finger on it. It drives me crazy all the way back to the station.
When I walk into the station I see Pam at her desk. Her dark hair is up in a high ponytail and she is twirling the end of it with her finger, which she always does when she’s studying the computer screen, or when Asher is near. I drop my keys on the desk. “Have them go ahead and put chains on my tires.”
“Mine, too,” Asher says, coming from around the corner and fishing his keys out of his pocket. Pam’s eyes light up when she sees him. She sits up a little straighter. These two have been dancing around each other for months. “I’m going to be on call tonight. You did it last time.”
I think about it for a moment. I normally like to be the one on call when a storm hits, but maybe it’s best to let Asher do it this time. My mind is somewhere else right now. I want to find what I believe is a homeless girl. I’m worried she is about to get stuck out in a storm. Maybe I could stake out the house tonight. She might try to go back there without knowing the bank is about to board the place up.
“All right,” I tell him. Pam hands me a sheet of paper, and I take it from her, looking over the weather report. I was right. The storm is moving in sooner than had been reported last night.
“Close the schools an hour early. Town shuts down at six thirty. Get the word out. I want the streets empty tonight.”
“On it,” Pam chirps, picking up her phone to start making calls.
I hand the paper to Asher for him to look over.
“Fuck,” he mumbles.
“Mouth,” I warn him, my eyes glancing to Pam, who rolls her eyes.
“She’s got five brothers. I think she’s heard the word—”
I level Asher with a hard stare before he can finish his sentence. He puts his hands up in a you win motion.
“I’ll be in my office,” I tell them and leave them to it. I fire up my computer and pull out the note from my pocket. The number Betty gave me comes with it and I toss it in the trash. I stare at the note for a minute as my computer loads, running my finger across it before finally putting it into my wallet. I want to keep it close to me for some reason.
When my computer finally loads I search for the name Mark Young. Multiples pop up, but I click on the one that has the address on Shine listed as their home address.
The basics come up first. His last known address—Shine Street. His age. It says he’s fifty-five, but the picture of him makes him look older. It also says he’s married, but no children are listed. Retired from army.
I keep clicking, and arrest reports pop up one after another. All the arrests start off with him having too much to drink, which leads to either a fight or trespassing after being told to leave.
The reports don’t have enough information for my liking, reminding me why I got elected to sheriff so fast. That last one half-assed everything and the county was all too happy to be rid of him. I didn't even have to do anything when I ran for the position. It was pretty much handed to me. I’ve always been known as the town’s golden boy. Even more so after all the medals that got pinned to me when I was in the Rangers.
I know who will have all the information I’ll need. I push up from my chair and head back toward the front of the building. Pam is clicking away at her computer. I lean up against the wall, and she stops typing and looks over at me.
