out there, just to look around a bit. I’ll let him leave, and I’ll stand watch until the night shift arrives.”
“Got it,” she said.
The road to the cabin wound through the woods, and I worried about wolves, coyotes, bears, other animals barreling out in front of me from the darkness. I came upon a car ahead, a squad, and I pulled to the shoulder and parked behind it. “Conroy!” I shouted. “You there? It’s the chief.”
No answer.
Something felt off. I took my Colt out of my holster and kept walking toward the squad. I shined my flashlight inside. No sign of Conroy. The door was unlocked. I stuck my head in and grabbed the mic. The dispatcher answered. “Conroy’s car is here, but I don’t see him. Have you heard from him?”
“No. Nothing. Should I send someone out there quick, or wait on his replacement?”
I hesitated, unsure. “Yes. Let’s do it. A backup squad. You know where we are?”
“I’ll trace it on Conroy’s GPS and give them the location.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m going to look around, try to find him.”
“Stay safe,” she said.
I closed the squad’s door and shined my flashlight into the woods, skimmed between the trees, seeing nothing out of place at first, but then something moved. In the distance, in the shadows, something paced. I stayed half-hidden behind the car, scanning between the tree trunks. I had my Colt in my right hand, braced on the top of the car, ready. I watched. Nothing. No one. Something flickered through the trees. I waited, trigger finger ready, and then it emerged from behind a stand of trees, my flashlight lighting up a dark eye.
“A deer,” I whispered. “Spooked by a deer.”
The animal stared at me, turned and ran. My thoughts returned to my young officer. Where was Conroy?
I left the road and walked down the winding driveway. The cabin lay a hundred feet or so ahead. I saw nothing unusual as I stepped onto the gravel, my boots making a grinding sound as I picked my way forward, my flashlight leading the way, my Colt ready.
The cabin’s front door was open, lights beaming from inside. I continued on, careful, watching, moving forward knowing that someone could come at me out of the darkness at any moment, from any direction. I heard the dogs barking, and I saw a horse tied up to a railing in front of the house. Then, off to the side, two men stood close together, talking, one of them dangling a flashlight at his side, throwing a splash of light onto the ground.
I walked faster, and as I approached, the man with the flashlight aimed the beam at me. Nearly blinded, I had my finger hovering over the trigger. I was ready. “Police Chief Clara Jefferies here. Who’s there?” I shouted. “Identify yourselves.”
“Chief, it’s Conroy,” he said. “What’re you doing here?”
“You okay, Conroy?” I asked.
“Yeah, sorry. Just here talking to someone.”
“No problem, but next time let dispatch know you’re getting out of the car,” I said, slipping my gun back in the holster. “Who are you talking to? Is that Myles Thompkins?”
“No, one of his neighbors,” Conroy said. He’d aimed the flashlight at the ground again. There was enough lamplight glowing from inside the house so that as I got closer, I could see Conroy in his uniform. The guy beside him I didn’t recognize.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Conroy introduced me to a short, stout guy with dark brown sideburns who wore a silver belt buckle the size of a saucer on his jeans. His name was Scotty and he lived about half a mile down the road. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
Scotty frowned. “I was just asking the officer that. What the heck are you two doing here?”
“We’re looking for Myles Thompkins. We need to talk to him,” I motioned at the front door. “He’s home, inside?”
“Nope. I opened the door,” Scotty said. “I rode over to check on things for him, feed and water the dogs.”
“He left you in charge?” I asked, and Scotty nodded, said that Myles often asked him to watch over the place while he was gone. “Where is Myles, and when do you expect him back?”
“Didn’t say when he’d be coming home, but he texted me late, really late last night and said he was going to be gone for a while. He’s hunting up in the mountains,” Scotty said. The guy looked like he’d been smoking a little weed. His eyes were just a little