Page 90 of Little Girls Sleeping
“Blackburn hasn’t been at the lab today,” said the sheriff, clenching his jaw.
“What does that mean?” Chad persisted.
“Don’t know yet.”
Chad let out an annoyed sigh.
The sheriff smiled slightly.
“What?”
“Being a detective takes patience. You can’t jump to conclusions no matter how tempting it might be, or how hot your emotions are,” he said.
“I know.” Chad picked up his pace.
When they reached the barn, the doors were closed. The sheriff opened them. “Hello?”
No answer.
The sun shone through the doors, lighting up the tidy interior. It didn’t look as if anyone had been working there today.
“No one’s here,” said Chad, clearly disappointed. He looked at the sheriff, who began to walk around inside the barn. “What are you looking for?”
“Nothing in particular. Just want to be thorough.”
“We’re wasting time,” Chad urged.
“Five minutes won’t make a difference one way or another.”
Both men examined the work area, looking in drawers and storage areas. Tools were organized and hung in the correct places. Drawers and cubbyholes held nails, screws, and various kinds of adhesives. Everything appeared as it should.
“Satisfied?” asked Chad.
“For now,” said the sheriff.
They exited the barn and the sheriff closed the large doors. As they began to walk back to the car, he slowed his pace and looked around the property once again.
“What?” asked Chad.
“Just want to check the house.”
They jogged up to the front door and the sheriff knocked. They waited. He knocked again. Stillno answer. He put his hand on the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed the door slightly ajar. “Hello? It’s the sheriff,” he called.
Silence.
They stepped over the threshold and listened. A stark silence greeted them, making the sheriff uneasy. His hand brushed against his sidearm, his fingertips stretching and gripping the handle.
“Stay here,” he said in a whisper.
Chad nodded.
The sheriff moved deeper into the house.
Like the barn, it was tidy and organized. The furniture and decor were worn but in good condition and comfortable. The pillows on the couch were arranged symmetrically, and a blue-and-yellow crocheted blanket was draped neatly over the back.
He scanned the living room and moved to the kitchen. The trashcan was filled with empty beer bottles. There was a coffee mug and a plate in the wooden dish rack. The dish towel was on the counter, efficiently folded.
“Anything?” Chad asked from the entrance.
