She believed that Chelsea was taken—lured, perhaps—from the park. And that meant that there was some truth to Price’s statement, unless of course he had had something to do with the abduction. Maybe he knew more than what he’d told the police?
But her speculation was just that—a theory. Chelsea could have been snatched a couple of houses away from her friend’s place, or just before she arrived home.
Still, everything seemed to direct Katie to the park area as the abduction location. It gave her little to go on, but it would help to support a preliminary profile if the body was recovered.
As she led Cisco back to her car, heaviness filled her, almost weighing down her stride. She kept seeing in her mind’s eye Jenny’s smiling face the last time she saw her at camp. It was as though her murdered friend rode shotgun, as if she were Katie’s steadfast subconscious, making sure she did everything possible to find Chelsea.
Nine
An assertive knock sounded on Sheriff Scott’s office door.
“Come in,” the sheriff called, not looking up from his large pile of paperwork.
The door opened and Detective Templeton stood there awkwardly before entering the office. His body tensed as his stride became stilted and unsure, not knowing whether to sit or remain standing. It was clear he had something weighing heavily on his mind as he kept shifting his bulk from side to side.
“What can I do for you?” asked the sheriff.
“Sir, we’ve known each other for a long time,” began the detective, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
Sheriff Scott stopped writing, set down his special gold pen, and looked directly at the detective. “Of course, it’s been quite some time. We were patrol officers together,” he reflected.
“Well, I’ve always been straightforward with you, right?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”
“I wanted to bring something to your attention that I think is important.” Templeton’s eyes shifted to the framed photographs on the office credenza. There was a picture of Katie when she’d graduated from the police academy, smiling brightly, eyes fixed and serious, her hair twisted up in a stylish bun.
“I think I know where this is going, Detective,” the sheriff interjected. “Let’s get this out in the open now, because I’m not one to gather my facts from idle gossip going around the office.”
“It’s just… it’s just that I wanted you to know that your niece, Ms. Scott, has questioned me about my cases.”
“What cases?” countered the sheriff. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the detective as he waited for an answer.
Detective Templeton chose his words carefully. “She came to me and asked about the Chelsea Compton case.”
“And?”
The detective licked his lips nervously. “She questioned my investigation.”
“How?”
“Well, she wanted to know why the neighbors weren’t followed up on, and why Terrance Price’s statement was ruled out—”
“Let me stop you right there.” The sheriff held up his hand. “Did Ms. Scott accuse you of anything?”
“Well no, not exactly, but—”
“Did she behave in a way that you would deem unprofessional or unbecoming of an officer or employee?”
“No, that’s not what I’m trying—”
“Do you have a real, viable complaint?” the sheriff pushed.
The detective let out a sigh. “I just don’t think that a temporary employee should be going through cases.”
The sheriff remained quiet for a moment. He appeared to have a heavy load weighing on his mind. “Let me ask you this. What’s our department’s clearance rate?”
“I don’t know the exact number…”