Page 136 of Sworn to Silence
“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?”
