Chapter Six
"Hey, Robert. Have you got a minute?"
"Sure. Let me save this report I'm working on, and I'll come straight over."
Silas walked into his office, keeping the door open, and sat behind his desk. Looking at the paperwork piled high on his desk, Silas wondered why he'd returned. Couldn't one of his deputies have attempted to do some of it? Just one report?
Robert came in and Silas nodded to the door, which Robert closed. Sitting across from him, Robert glanced at the paperwork, winced, and looked away.
"What's been happening while I've been off?"
"We've had a spate of burglaries, a few car jackings, muggings, but nothing too serious. No rapes, murders."
"Gun crimes?"
Wincing again, Robert said, "Old man Harrison threatened to shoot the Macgregor boys."
"Jesus." Sails muttered. "What for now?"
"Stealing." Robert grinned. "Said if they were going to steal his apples to make cider then the least they could do was give him some to drink. I think he was more pissed that he didn't get any cider then the fact they took his apples."
Silas chuckled. "Is he still making his moonshine out in the old barn he doesn't think we know about?"
"Of course he is. Last batch wasn't too bad either." Robert shrugged. "He doesn't even notice it disappearing. Thinks he drank it."
"So, these house break-ins. How far along are we?"
"I've spoken to the usual people, and I honestly don't think it's any of them. My guess would be an outsider."
"Any newcomers, people passing through?"
"No, that's just it, but we have found signs of camps around Blackbear Forest."
"Camps?" Silas frowned.
"Yeah, though not in the designated areas. I've increased patrols and thought about hiring some temporary deputies but wanted to run it past you first."
"You've been investigating it. Do we need more manpower?"
Robert frowned then slowly nodded. "We've had some questions regarding the investigation and how it's progressing."
"Right, okay. Get the men you need and reassign where necessary. When was the last break in?"
"Last week. The Somervilles. The reports are, er, in that pile." Robert pointed to the pile of paperwork that threatened to topple over at any minute.
"Great." Silas sighed, rubbing his head. At least the paperwork would take his mind off Chester.
"How's Troy doing?"
"He went to see the vampire counselor. Screamed at her then sat in silence."
Robert winced. "Ouch."
"Yeah, at least he's reacting. She seems to think it's what he needs to do. She's patient."
"He's been through some shit."
"What about the family of the man you found? Anything on them?"
"I went and spoke to them, the O’Connells, and explained what had happened. They were happy to have their son home so they could bury him. I gave them the card that vampire solicitor left and told them to call him because he was dealing with it. They buried him a few days ago."
"Jeremiah Hawkins, twenty-two years old." Silas knew the details. Would likely never forget them.
"It wasn't Troy's fault or yours. I knew Tina, and I never saw this coming. I don't think any of us did."
"She was my wife, Robert, I should have spotted something. We were drifting apart, and she was different, but I put that down to the problems in our marriage, not a mental health issue with her. I should have seen something was wrong, that there was something off about her, but I didn't, and Troy paid the price for my failure."
"It wasn't your failure. None of us knew. We're trained to spot the warning signs, and Tina didn't exhibit any. If there are no signs, how can you tell there's a problem?"
Silas shook his head and glanced at the picture on his desk. Taken years earlier, in happier times, it was a picture of all three of them. Why he'd kept it, Silas couldn't answer.
Sighing, he reached over and lifted it up. He turned it over, opened the back and pulled the picture from the frame.
Staring at the picture, he raised his eyes to Robert and slowly ripped it up.
Robert sighed and stood. "I'll leave you alone, Sheriff. Let me know if you need anything else."
Silas nodded and watched Robert close the door behind him before glancing back over at the pile on his desk.
Groaning, he muttered to himself, "Better get started."
❊❊❊
Looking at the utter devastation around him, Chester briefly closed his eyes. Jared stood next to him staring at what was once a trailer park. A tornado had come through, ripping the place to pieces.
When it had been deemed safe, emergency services and rescue teams had descended on the area, searching for signs of life.
Opening his eyes, Chester watched Tank and his dog, Dodge, search nearby.
"We got here quick enough. I have hopes on this one."
It wasn't the first time they'd been called into an urban search and rescue and each time they attended one, it filled Chester with dread. They had a limited timescale to find survivors and with every passing hour, that number decreased.
"Right, guys. Split up into teams and search the areas we've been provided. I don't need to remind you to be careful."
Chester moved off with Jared and Miguel and spent the next few hours searching through rubble, debris, and personal belongings. They were lucky and found some survivors in amongst the ruins, but for others, it had been too late. The highs of finding someone alive, destroyed by the lows of discovery of the dead. Seeing children amongst those who had perished tore at Chester’s heart, but he had to push it to one side; there was work to be done. He would grieve later, but for now, he needed to keep searching as there were others waiting to be found.