was saying something nonsensical about the end of the world as Mrs. Collins berated three teenage volunteers to “put their backs into it” and shovel all the snow from the front porch. The sheriff felt especially bad for one of them.
“We don’t want my mother falling and breaking her hip, do we, Mary Katherine?”
“No, ma’am,” Mary Katherine said, her face red and snotty from the cold.
The sheriff was not looking forward to this little chat with Mrs. Collins. He remembered when he first took the job, the Collins family invited him over for dinner in their ten-thousand-square-foot McMansion with the long driveway and swimming pool and tennis court and wine cellar that was slightly bigger than his apartment. Just a nice, cozy dinner to politely remind him that the second word of “civil servant” was “servant.” And if he was the town’s servant, then they were the masters. Nothing was ever said. But it was understood. The sheriff endured their tense “We are normal. We are fine” display. Especially when Brady spilled his soup on the fine linen and tensed up like a guy caught skimming from his drug-dealing boss. The sheriff knew the minute the door closed, Brady was going to catch hell. But at least he had a ten-thousand-square-foot mansion to be miserable in. The girl with the painted nails didn’t get a hundred.
And Brady’s mom could cook. He had to give her that.
Everything had been just fine between master and servant until a skeleton was found, and the sheriff ordered the woods shut down pending further investigation.
“Sheriff, I don’t have another week to lose,” Mr. Collins had told him. “But I do have a team of lawyers.”
“Great. Then, maybe you can get them out here to help us dig for more skeletons on your land. You’re building family-friendly suburbs. You don’t want those news vans to think you don’t care about a dead child, right?” the sheriff said.
It wasn’t exactly the shot heard ’round the world, but it was enough to prompt Mr. Collins to go “new sheriff shopping” the next election. But the sheriff didn’t care. As long as he solved the case, the community would stand by him, and he would keep his job. And if not, then not. He had seen worse things than second place.
“Hello, Mrs. Collins. How is your husband?” the sheriff said politely.
“Wonderful. He’s so pleased that you’ve stopped his construction…for another week.”
“Just trying to keep the town safe, ma’am,” the sheriff said, tipping his cap with the tone of giving her the finger.
“Well, you’re doing a wonderful job,” she said with a smile.
When the sheriff entered the home, he saw Kate Reese at the end of the hallway. She was taking out Christmas decorations from a box. And she looked just as beautiful as she did the night of their date that had started at 8:00 p.m. and ended when Mr. Wong said in his broken English that “we close now.” The sheriff didn’t know how three hours had passed, but they had, and then it had been time to break open their fortunes.
“What does yours say?” he had asked.
“A Friend in Need Is a Friend Indeed. How about yours?”
“You Will Find Happiness with a New Love.”
Ten minutes later, they were making out in his car in the parking lot like sixteen-year-olds. They had only kissed, but that only made it better.
“What are you doing out in this storm?” Kate Reese asked.
“I’m the sheriff. What are you doing?”
“I’ve got a mortgage. And Christopher is out with his friends, sledding.”
The sheriff could feel the shift in her. Once she learned that the skeleton had been in the ground for fifty years, she had relaxed with her son. A little.
“No more house arrest?” the sheriff asked.
“Parole,” she said. “If he goes in those woods again…solitary.”
The sheriff could feel eyes prying into their conversation from every corner of the place. From the old ladies playing cards through their arthritis to the staff sneaking cigarettes outside. So, he leaned over privately and whispered the reason he was here. She nodded and walked him down the hallway into one of the rooms. Then, she left him to his police business. The sheriff saw the old man sitting in his chair, bandages wrapped around his head from his exploratory eye surgery.
“Excuse me, sir? This is Sheriff Thompson,” he said.
“Well, hello, Sheriff. Nice to know you actually work, since I voted for you,” Ambrose said. “How can I help you?”