Chapter 13
Despite the size of the county, the Stillwater Sheriff's Office was fully funded. They had a brand spanking new building painted in tan and rust, brand-new squad cars with colorful, aggressive wraps and a nice new detention center to house the degenerates.
We stepped inside the office and made our way to the front desk.
I flashed my badge and asked to speak with Sheriff Rollins.
The department was as busy as any other.
But not much happened in Stillwater except for petty crimes, vandalism, drunk driving, and bar fights.
Michelle’s abduction had been the talk of the town. A rare event.
"You boys are a long way from home,” the clerk said as she looked at us with a sour face. “May I tell him what this is in reference to?”
"Michelle Morgan."
She picked up the phone, dialed an extension, then spoke in a hushed tone to the sheriff. "There are two deputies here from… Where is it you said you were from?"
"Coconut County,” I replied with a smile.
She relayed the message. The sheriff's voice crackled through the phone, and she listened intently. "Okay. I'll tell them."
She ended the call and looked at JD and me. She pointed across the floor to the sheriff's office in back. "He said you can go on back.”
I smiled and thanked her.
Phones rang, and fingers clacked on keyboards.
We weaved through the desks to the sheriff's office and gave a quick knock on the door before pushing inside.
It was a standard office with a view of the building next door.
There were pictures of the sheriff with notable townsfolk on the wall.
He stood up from his desk and reached across to shake our hands.
Dusty Rollins was a good old boy, and he gave us a once-over. I don't think he'd seen any deputies that looked quite like we did. Certainly not like Jack, with his long blond hair and Hawaiian shirt. "What can I do for you?”
I told him about Jonathan Edwards and the connection to RSS.
He gave me a look like he thought it was absurd. "If you ask me, Michelle ran off with some guy.”
I figured we’d get a little pushback. "She's been gone for a month. Everybody we've talked to says there's no way she would have left without contacting her mother.”
Dusty frowned. "I've got nothing. I talked to everybody in that neighborhood. I talked to everybody who knows Michelle and that boyfriend of hers."
"Kyle."
He nodded. "Nobody knows anything.” He sighed.
"I guess it's possible somebody came through town, and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we haven’t had anything happen like this before.
" He rapped on the desk. "Knock on wood, it don’t happen again.
" Rollins looked at us with uncertainty.
"The FBI's on the case. Michelle is in the national database. Not much more we can do around here. If you ask me, I think you’re wasting your time.”
I shrugged. "We like to be thorough."
"I don't mind you asking around, long as you keep me in the loop. If you find something, I expect to be the first to know. I don't want you going off half-cocked, taking matters into your own hands.”
I smiled. "We don't want to step on your toes.”
“That would be unwise,” he said, staring into my eyes.
“No worries.”
"Look, I wish I could be more helpful. I'm just at a loss." He frowned and shook his head. "I guess I’ve been hoping against hope she would turn up. But she's probably out there in the desert somewhere. Ain’t nobody ever gonna find her."
I frowned. "I like to stay positive."
Rollins chuckled. "You can stay as positive as you like, it don't change reality."
There was an awkward beat.
"Well, I don’t want to take up any more of your time."
JD and I stood up, shook hands with the sheriff, and showed ourselves out of the office. We walked back toward the main desk, told the clerk goodbye, then stepped outside.
The sun hung just over the horizon.
Jack said, "There’s something off about all this, and he certainly doesn’t seem interested in getting to the bottom of it.”
We hopped into the town car, and Marcus drove us back toward the motel.
"Where's a good place to eat around here?" JD asked.
"Depends on what you're in the mood for," Marcus replied.
JD and I exchanged a look.
"Mexican, Italian, Chinese, burgers, barbecue, steak?"
"A steak sounds good to me," Jack said, glancing at me.
I gave a nod of approval. We were too far inland to get fresh seafood. After living in Coconut Key, it kind of spoils you. Frozen just won't do.
Isabella buzzed my phone along the way. "How's it going?"
"It's going. But I’ll tell you, if left in Sheriff Rollins capable hands, this case is never going to get solved."
“If my theory is correct, Stillwater is a dead end. You should get to LA and talk to Brooke Larson’s mother. Brooke was the metamaterials researcher who went missing.”
“What exactly is your theory?”
“It’s a work in progress. All these people are brilliant in their respective fields. You need to find out what they were working on and who stands to gain by their demise. That is, if you are up to the challenge.”