Sworn to Silence

“Try him at the sheriff’s office.” John turned his attention to Mona. “See if you can get him on the radio.”

 

 

Sliding the headset over her ears, she hit a couple of buttons and spoke into the mouthpiece. “This is dispatch hailing 247. Sheriff Detrick, do you read?”

 

“Try his cell phone again,” John said to Glock.

 

The former Marine lowered his cell. “Voice mail.”

 

“Shit.” John’s mind skittered through his options. “Detrick own any property around here?”

 

Glock shook his head. “I don’t know.”

 

“What about abandoned farms or—”

 

“I have a list!”

 

Both men looked at Mona. She looked excited by the prospect of helping. “I have a copy of the one I gave Detrick.” Grabbing the mouse next to her computer, she clicked and the printer spit out two pages. Mona handed them to John. “I broke it down by homes, farms, and businesses within a fifty mile radius.”

 

“We need manpower,” John said.

 

“What about Pickles?” asked Glock.

 

“He’s on tonight,” Mona put in. “Took a call about fifteen minutes ago. Guy skidded off the road down by Clark. He’s trying to get a wrecker out there.”

 

John looked at the list. “Call Pickles. Tell him it’s urgent. Tell him to start checking these locations.”

 

“What’s he looking for?” she asked.

 

John struggled with how much information to reveal. “We’re looking for Kate. Her vehicle. We think she might be in trouble.”

 

“What kind of trouble?” She looked from man to man.

 

John lowered his voice. “We just want to find her.”

 

“Tell Pickles to stay off the radio,” Glock added. “Cell phone only.”

 

“I got it.”

 

“Call Skid, too,” Glock put in. “If they find Kate, tell them to call John or me only.”

 

John swung his attention to Glock. “I’ll call SHP and have them put out an APB on her vehicle as well as Detrick’s.”

 

“Roger that.”

 

Turning, John started toward the door. “We’ll cover more ground if we split up. You take the first property on the list.”

 

Glock came up beside him. “Where are you going?”

 

“I’m going to stir the beehive and see what flies out.”

 

 

 

Detrick lived in a two-story Tudor on the south side of Millersburg. John pulled curbside to find the house totally dark. He knew he was about to cross a line. But there was no way around this. Kate was missing. If she was right about Detrick, she would be dead by morning. There was no time for protocol. For all intents and purposes, his career was already over, anyway. May as well go out with a bang.

 

He trudged through deep snow to the front door and hit the doorbell a dozen times. When that didn’t rouse anyone, he pounded with his fist. After a few minutes, a middle-aged woman in a pink robe and matching slippers opened the door, leaving the security chain in place. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” she snapped.

 

“Mrs. Detrick?”

 

“I’m Lora Faulkor, the housekeeper. Grace and the kids moved out about a month ago.”

 

John showed his badge. “Is Sheriff Detrick here, ma’am?”

 

“I assumed he’s on patrol. Working on those murders.” Her expression transformed from annoyed to worried. “Has something happened?”

 

“I have reason to believe he could be in trouble, ma’am. May I come in?”

 

Closing the door for an instant, she unfastened the chain and swung it open. “What’s happened?”

 

“All we know is that he’s missing.”

 

“Missing? Oh my.” She began wringing her hands. “I told him not to go out in this weather. He probably had a wreck.”

 

John entered a large living room furnished with early American oak furniture. Modular sofa. A coordinating plaid chair. A hint of wood smoke in the air from an earlier fire.

 

“Why did Mrs. Detrick move out?” he asked.

 

“I assumed it was because of the divorce. There was a lot of tension, of course. Mr. Detrick works a lot of hours and has no time to cook or clean, so he kept me on.”

 

“I see.” The timing of Detrick’s marital situation didn’t elude John. “Does he have a study or home office?”

 

She blinked, clearly surprised by the question. “Why on earth do you need to see his office?”

 

“I need to ascertain his whereabouts. It might help me figure out where to look. If he keeps a record of his patrol grid.”

 

“Wouldn’t he keep that at the sheriff’s office?”

 

“Time is of the essence, ma’am. If you could just show me to his office.”

 

“Oh. Well. I guess you could take a look. I just don’t see how that will help.” Pressing her hand to her stomach, she started down the hall. “Are the rest of the deputies out looking for him?”

 

“Every available man.”

 

“How long has he been missing?”

 

“About two hours now. We can’t get him on the radio or cell.”

 

“Oh, no. My goodness. That’s not good.”