Hallow Springs

Eighteen

Waiting for Rogers to return to his office, I had a second to scan his bookshelves. A photo collage of him posing with Mayor Hughes, attending a local benefit and fishing with his grandkids showed the many faces of the man. An old box-styled television hung in the corner of the ceiling on a wall stand. Its grainy feed showed an interrogation room with one table. Maynard Jones was silent and still, he was not cuffed as we couldn't arrest him. This was just for a 'friendly chat'. Rogers walked in with a cup of coffee, steaming up from his mug.

"Why him?" I asked immediately upon his entry – by how he sighed, I could tell that he wasn't used to my speed.

"Someone came to Deputy Sykes, here, and told him that he had information about Jeremy's whereabouts. Maynard Jones here is an auto mechanic. He fixed up Jeremy's transmission and never got paid. Apparently, Maynard was supposed to get paid three months ago but Jeremy never came up with the payment. Word has it that Jeremy had some money troubles and was in to him pretty deep."

Sykes was slender with sunken eyes and rosy cheeks – a sharp nose and dimpled chin. He was young, no older than thirty – obviously still in that phase of trying to prove to everyone that he was the best addition to the force since glazed doughnuts. He was leaning up against the wall, arms folded across his chest as if to say piece of cake. He hadn't even said a word to me, and he already rubbed me the wrong way.

"The Sheriff told me to question friends and family but I knew Mary Pat Greene knows more about other people's business than they know about their own. I figured I'd go the extra mile and ask her. Turns out she had some valuable insight..."

I hated people like this, they preened every small achievement they did as if they were lobbying for a gold star. "Mary Pat Greene is the town florist by the way."

"I know who Mary Pat Greene is..." I finally spoke up. "But I don't know who you are..."

"Deputy Charlie Sykes."

He stepped forward and reached out one of those rich kid handshakes the kind you see at country clubs. Judging from his last name he definitely spent time on the golf course growing up, his father ran the Ski Resort up the mountain.

I shook his hand with a firm grip, absorbing every ounce of the first impression. When you are a detective you tend to analyze everything about these small encounters. You read into things deep, for better or worse. He was a dog with bone, waving it around for everyone to see and trying to pass it off like it was no big deal. He had tripped over the line between confidence and arrogance. I finally let go of his hand and stepped back, folding my own arms across my chest.

"So, ya think you got something here." I motioned toward the television.

"Yeah, I do. Maynard Jones is a bad guy... and he's got motive."

"He has reason to be upset with him, not to kidnap him. There's a difference." A young buck like him wouldn't get this. His shoulders slouched at hearing this.

"Well, we'll see..." he said, hoping for more praise than he received, as he left the Sheriff's office.

I consulted Rogers immediately.

"Who the hell was that?"

"John Sykes's kid. He's a hot head, but he's sharp. He has the energy I don't have these days. Just put up with him for me alright?" The Sheriff grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air.

"People don't kidnap people to get money from them. They kidnap people for someone else's money. There's no ransom that we know of yet so the motive doesn't stick for me."

"Well, it's our only lead right now," he considered, hoping I would admit the same.

"Okay I'll go speak to him now..." The Sheriff began wagging his finger to my surprise.

"No, no, no, no, no... that's not how we do things anymore around here."

"You brought him in for questioning – don't you want me to question him?" I grew more perplexed by the minute.

"I do! But we recently had a sure fire conviction slip away in the fourth quarter because Peters screwed up during the interrogation. He was said to have led the suspect to the point of coercion. His admission didn't hold up in court because of it." I still didn't understand what was going on. My face was frozen in a furrowed expression.

"Okay..." I responded. "Then... what do you want me to do?"

"The District Attorney has requested that you go see him before you speak with Maynard. He wants to make sure we don't botch another conviction."

"The District Attorney?" My mouth dropped, but I quickly lifted it. My hands grew clammy and immediately clasped one another under the table. I would have to see him while I was in town. I just hoped it wouldn't have to be so soon.

"Yes... Sam Parker... Amanda, I want you to go see your ex-husband first."

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