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Chapter 16
Some people’s lives seem preordained at birth. As youngsters, they pass time playing with other children, absorbing what teachers and preachers have to say until they’re old enough to accept their destinies. Sheriff Lo
He was born and raised in Rabun County in an area the locals called Chechero. His backyard playground was Rainey Mountain where he roamed the woods as a boy, learning to shoot by the time he was eight and hunting alone with his shotgun by the time he was eleven. Like most boys he knew, he learned how to use a gun responsibly and scoffed at the liberal media reports he would see from time to time that proclaimed guns as unsafe. He knew guns were safe, if treated with respect, and were deadly if treated with negligence. Just as a motor vehicle is, just as a knife is, just as baseball bat is. “Heck,” he had recently told a friend over coffee at the Clayton Cafe when debating the subject, “the banjo is legally considered a deadly weapon under Colorado state law. It’s true!”
Lo
He had learned his way through the woods, knew how to hunt, how to track, what to eat, what to avoid. Lo
The sheriff’s office had only recently begun using the SUVs, and Lo
Hale Ridge was one of the most isolated, least populated areas of Rabun County. The gravel road itself was in decent shape, Lo
Lo
Lo
Blake sat on the sofa when the doorbell rang, having just finished a heated call with Nick to discuss the delivery Blake would make later in the day. He looked toward the door and exhaled deeply. Angelica, if you’ve locked yourself out..., he thought to himself with exasperation as he got up and walked to the door. As he reached for the handle he could see through the stained-glass door that it was not Angelica. The figure loomed large, with the morning sun casting a large shadow over its wide-brimmed hat. Blake’s throat dried and his pulse quickened as he opened the door.
Lo
“Mornin’ Sheriff. How can I help you?”
Blake immediately wished he hadn’t said that. It was so formal, so distant. Not something you say to someone you know, someone you want to be friendly with, unless you want to appear uneasy. Blake had never been friendly with Lo
“Well,” Lo
In the second that it took Blake to respond, the worst thoughts raced through his mind. What does he want? What does he KNOW? Am I in trouble? What should I do? The rage began to boil within Blake as he knew that only someone who has something to hide would think such thoughts.
“Sure Sheriff, come on in.”
Lo
“I’m looking for a couple of fellas that live around here, Blake. They’ve been missing for going on a month now and, well, I’m just asking around to see if anybody knows anything that might help.”
“I ain’t seen ’em, Sheriff,” Blake blurted.
“Seen who?” Lo
“Seen...whoever’s missing. I assume you’re talking about them boys I heard about.”
“Well, what’d you hear?” Lo
Blake was nervous and was sure the sheriff knew it. He shouldn’t have answered so quickly, so abruptly. He felt out of control, as if he was being interrogated in his own home. SETTLE DOWN! He told himself, the same way he used to when it was late in the game and he needed to lead a scoring drive.
“I just heard at the coffee shop that some boys were missing,” Blake said. “Folks figured they ran off or something.”
Lo