Page 33 of More Than a Hero
Angie’s gaze flicked to her planner, where her day was mapped out in a dozen scribbled notes. But this wasn’t something to delay.
“I’m on it,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll call for a deputy to meet me for a wellness check.”
“Thank you, Angie. I’ll be at the office as soon as I can.”
Hanging up, she quickly jotted down Mr. Daniels’s phone number on a sticky note, stuffing it into her purse as she grabbed her jacket off the chair. On her way out, she called out to the receptionist, “I’m heading to Seaport Way for a wellness check on Tom Daniels. Push the team meeting back until I return and send out an email to let everyone know.”
The drive took nearly twenty minutes, each mile tightening the knot in her stomach. She called the sheriff’s office en route, requesting a deputy to meet her there. As she pulled up to the small, aging house, a patrol car arrived right behind her.
A tall, broad-shouldered deputy stepped out, adjusting his belt as he approached. She didn’t recognize him.
“I’m Angie Brown with the Eastern Shore Area Agency on Aging,” she introduced herself. “Meals on Wheels reported that Mr. Daniels isn’t answering the door.”
“I’m Deputy Krukowski,” he said with a curt nod. “I’ll check it out.”
They walked together up the short concrete path. The house had the tired look of a home that had stood for decades, its white paint peeling in places, the front stoop slightly uneven. The deputy knocked firmly, calling out, “Mr. Daniels! Sheriff’s office! Can you come to the door?”
Silence.
Angie stepped to the side, cupping her hands against the window as she tried to peer in. The lace curtains blocked most of her view, but she saw no movement and no shadow. No sign of life stirred inside.
She pulled out her phone and dialed his number, listening as it rang until finally, voicemail picked up.
“No answer,” she murmured, her unease growing.
“Does he have any family we can call?” the deputy asked.
She shook her head. “Not that I know of. Meals on Wheels delivered a meal two days ago, and he was here then.”
A voice called from across the street. “What’s going on?”
Angie turned as a woman jogged toward them, her blond ponytail swaying.
The deputy intercepted her. “Who are you, ma’am?”
“Susan Barnes. I live right across the street.”
“Ms. Barnes, have you seen Mr. Daniels today or yesterday?”
“I saw him yesterday,” she confirmed. “He came out to get his mail. I’d just picked up my kids from school. We waved at each other.”
“But not today?”
She shook her head. “No, not today.”
The deputy exchanged a glance with Angie, before turning back to her. “Thank you, ma’am”
“We need to get inside,” she said, her voice firm.
“I agree.” Krukowski glanced toward the back of the house. “Let me check if there’s an open door.”
As he disappeared around the corner, Angie wrapped her arms around herself, the chilly day settling deep into her bones. A sick feeling had started in her stomach, one she knew too well.
A minute later, Krukowski returned, shaking his head. “Locked up tight.” He turned to his partner, who had just pulled up. The two spoke quietly before Krukowski called out again, then, with a firm kick, he sent the aging wooden door splintering open. The crack of the frame giving way echoed through the air.
Angie followed as the deputy stepped inside, calling out his identification. The house was still, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and something else—something heavier.
No sign of him in the living room. Not in the kitchen. And then… a sharp inhale escaped Angie’s lips as she stepped toward the bedroom and saw him.
