6:38 PM - December 24
Hulis Township Sheriff's Department
Northern Missouri
“Was wonderin' when you'd show up,” Sheriff Carmichael said as Constance dragged in through the door of his office and without a word parked herself in the straight-backed chair across from him.
“I left a message for you with Clovis this morning,” she eventually replied, her voice hoarse and flat.
“Yeah, she told me.”
“Sorry. I was following up some leads.”
“So... Leads, huh? Find anything you wanna share?”
She shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. Not just yet, anyway.”
“Too bad. I could use some good news for a change.”
He rocked back in his old, wheeled desk chair and brushed his fingers through his mustache as he looked her over. After a thoughtful pause, he rubbed his chin then nodded in her direction. “You look like you drove through hell and stopped too long to admire the view, young lady...” Raising an eyebrow he added, “No offense meant, of course.”
“None taken,” she replied. “Honestly, that pretty much sums up exactly how I feel at the moment.”
He tilted forward in the seat and rested his arms on the desk. Peering at her with an expression of fatherly concern, he asked, “You get any sleep at all last night, Constance?”
“Actually, Skip,” she said, pausing for a second before saying, “No...I didn't. I took a nap this afternoon but it wasn't exactly what I'd call restful.”
“Let me guess, about three?”
“No, let me guess, Sherlock,” she returned, sarcasm thick in her gravelly voice. “The bags under my eyes are just the perfect shade and the creases still in my face from the pillow add up to three or something like that...”
He shook his head, the concern still in his face. “No, sugar. Three was just about when I took my nap thirty-five years ago. Wasn't a very restful one for me either, as I recall. Bad nightmares. Just lookin' at you tells me you're on the same wavelength I was back then... And still am, I guess.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I'm just...”
“Don't worry about it,” he told her. “It's Christmas Eve, you're away from your loved ones, and you're stuck in the middle of an investigation I wouldn't wish on anyone. It's bound to get to you.”
“It's my job.”
“Doesn't make it any easier.”
“Not to mention that I'm supposed to remain objective.”
He shook his head and snorted. “You and I both know that doesn't always happen. Especially with something like this.”
“Except the problem is, this is supposed to be about seven brutal homicides over as many years. Not about Merrie and what happened to her in nineteen seventy-five.”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Well... You might wanna tell that to the killer when you catch up to 'im.”
She sighed. “Yeah... I know.”
Sheriff Carmichael silently regarded the sullen FBI agent for a moment then asked, “You eat yet?”
She shook her head. “No. My stomach really isn't up to it.”
“Yeah, I get that too,” he replied. “But since you're dead set on sitting in that house all night waitin' for this sonofabitch, you're probably gonna need something.”
“I'll eat tomorrow.”
“Tonight, tomorrow, I don't care,” he replied. “Either way, my wife fixed you up a care package just in case. It's not a lot. Just a couple of sandwiches and a thermos of coffee, but I hafta say, Kathy does make a mean egg salad sandwich.”
“Please thank her for me,” Constance told him.
“I'll do that,” he agreed. “So...you wanna just sit for a while, or are you ready to head on over?”
“Let's just go. The sooner I'm in place the less chance there is to spook our subject.”
“Your call,” he said with a nod. “Been down this road before. I really doubt it's gonna matter one way or the other. Let me go ahead and put some fresh batteries in a flashlight for you.”
“I've got mine, thanks,” she told him.
“Okay, good. Then I'll just grab you a radio that's got a full charge on it, then I'll run you on over there.”