is an antique collector.”
“Self-employed. Can you describe him?”
“Tall, over six feet, about one-seventy, dark hair to his shoulders, brown eyes. Wait. I carry a picture of him in my wallet.” Liam opened his wallet, searched. “That’s funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“The photograph of Amish and I, it’s not here.”
“Doesn’t matter. How long have you known this man?”
How in the hell could he answer that? He couldn’t tell the sheriff he’d met Amish over twenty years ago. “Ah, four years,” Liam told him.
“And the last time you saw Amish Handover?”
“It’s been at least an hour and a half. I told you.”
“Did you have a fight with your lover?”
Liam groaned. “No. We don’t fight. Listen, he’s just gone. Someone isn’t telling the truth here. You need to find that old man.”
“Do you have a name for this, ah... old man?” The sheriff closed his notebook.
Liam shook his head. “No, but he was ancient and decrepit and really messed up. He was odd, you know.”
“Okay. I’m going to go inside, question the clerk. Wait here,” the sheriff instructed.
“No, I’m coming with you,” Liam insisted, following him inside.
“Hello Caroline,” the sheriff said, moseying over to the counter.
“Nice to see you, Sheriff,” she said, popping some gun into her mouth, giving Liam a dirty look.
“This fellow has lost his passenger. Anyone in here in these last few hours?”
“No,” she said. “I told him. It’s been quiet. He’s the first I’ve seen.”
“She’s lying,” Liam said, pointing at her. “You’re lying. I watched Amish walk in here with that old man. Where is the old man?”
The clerk looked afraid as she backed away from the counter. The sheriff had hold of Liam’s arm, pulling him out of the store. “Now, you just calm down,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to take you in.”
“Take me in? What the hell? I didn’t do anything, Sheriff, she’s lying. I’m not crazy. I saw that old man... watched Amish walk into that place.”
“Listen,” the sheriff said, “you can file a missing-persons report after twenty-four hours, but he is a grown man. If he doesn’t want to come back, he won’t.”
Liam looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “He didn’t just walk away. Amish would never do that. That old man took him somewhere. I know it. I’m not leaving here until that girl in there tells me what happened to Amish.”
Sheriff Palmer sighed. “Then I guess I’m going to have to haul you in, Doctor. Do we need the cuffs, or are you going to make my life easy and just get into the backseat?”
“I’m not going anywhere without Amish,” Liam told him.
“Okay,” the sheriff took out the handcuffs, “have it your way.”
Liam spent four hours in a locked interrogation room. The guard brought him water. Liam paced. When the sheriff finally made an appearance, Liam was furious. “I demand to know what I’m being charged with. I’m entitled to a phone call, a lawyer. You can’t hold me here. What is the charge?”
“Nothing yet,” the sheriff said, holding two cups of coffee in his hands. “Have a seat. Take a load off, Liam. The coffee is good. Surprising for a cop shop.”
“I don’t want any coffee.” He was tired, angry, and frustrated. “I want to know where Amish is.”
Palmer set the coffee down on the table. “You were in Yemen, weren’t you?”
Liam narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Doctors Without Borders. So?”
Palmer sat. “You had some problems. Many vets who come back from these places have PTSD. I understand that. First responders have issues, too.”
“You think I’m delusional?” Liam pointed at him.
“I didn’t say that, but I’ve made a recommendation. You will be taken into protective custody pending a psychiatric evaluation.”
Liam was speechless.
“A doctor who has experience with—”
“You got to be kidding.” Liam gasped. “You can’t do this.”
“I’m afraid it’s already been done, Mr. Macdonald. Believe me, it’s for your own good.”
Liam tried to be calm. He took a few breaths. “Listen, call the nurse who works with me at the clinic, her name is Monica Prue. She knows Amish well. She will verify that—”
“Mr. Macdonald, we’ve already spoken to Mrs. Prue. She said she’d never heard of anyone called Amish Handover.”
Liam sucked in some air. “That... that can’t be. She’s had dinner at our house, he’s driven her home. She sees him almost every day.”
“She indicated that you stopped having your prescriptions filled awhile back. She said you were on, ah”—he checked his notepad—”you were on prazosin and Zoloft. You just stopped taking these drugs without consulting with your, ah...