Page 33 of Little Girls Sleeping
He turned to her, his expression sour and his muscles tensed. “You’re the rookie, the untrained rookie, definitely not detective level, and that’s the assignment you’re going to get.”
“Huh.”
“What’s your problem—Detective?”
“I just expected more from you,” she said.
“If you have a problem, go cry to your uncle. There are men here who have earned their position as detective. Andnotby a fluke and special circumstances. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here at all. Consider yourself lucky to have an assignment at all.”
He left the room.
The spokesperson for the sheriff’s office, Sergeant Timothy Grant, stood waiting next to the podium for the press conference to commence. The news reporters readied themselves, each wanting to hear the gruesome details and to be the first to report the information about “the Toymaker” to their faithful readers.
Sheriff Scott opened the door and stepped outside toward the onslaught of reporters. He never missed a step or changed his demeanor, and was ready for anything fired at him. Two deputies followed and stood in the background, scanning the people in the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming. At 1620 hours yesterday, the body of Chelsea Lynn Compton, who had been missing for a little over four years, was discovered inside a coffin that had been buried in a rural location. At the present time the cause of death is not known. Another victim, currently unidentified, was also found; cause of death is unknown for this victim too. I have assigned a special task force to work this case and we will update you when information becomes available, as long as it does not impede the ongoing investigation in any way.”
“Is it true that there were teddy bears in the coffins?” yelled a reporter.
“I have no comment,” stated the sheriff.
“Who discovered the bodies?” asked another reporter.
“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at this time.”
“Sheriff, has the killer contacted you directly?”
“No. We have not knowingly been in contact with the killer.” The sheriff was beginning to lose his patience. “That’s all the information we have for now. Thank you.”
As he left the podium and entered the building, several reporters shouted more questions after him.
Twenty
Katie sat at the same desk where she had entered data for crime statistics for the past couple of weeks. She stared at the computer monitor as if something of importance would speak to her and guide her through the next few troubled days and weeks. Everything she had fought for—finding the missing girl, ruffling some egos—had come down to this. She’d been sidelined to do routine work. It wasn’t her definition of a detective.
She hit the keyboard space bar and the screen came to life. It waited for her to log into the mainframe, where she would enter data from the detectives. Still watching the cursor blinking, she couldn’t help but see Templeton’s face in her mind—rude, condescending, and hateful. It was highly unlikely to change throughout the investigation.
“Hey, what’s weighing so heavy on you?” asked Denise. “Thought you’d be excited about the change in the case because of your efforts.” She was impeccably dressed in a smart dark-brown suit and she watched Katie with curiosity.
Katie sighed. “I’ve been benched.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m supposed to input data from the investigation, which means I’m going to be sitting here twiddling my thumbs while I wait for updates.”
Denise eyed the notes on the desk. “Are those about the unknown little girl?”
“Yes. It’s believed from my research that it’s Tammie Myers. Nothing official yet.”
“Oh.”
Katie looked at Denise. “Just what I wanted for my first investigation. Maybe I can do some janitorial work while I wait…”
Denise put down a stack of files on her desk. “I’ll do it.”
“What?”
“I’ll do it. Whatever you need. And when info comes in from the case, I’ll take care of it.”
