Page 142 of Sworn to Silence
“Keep up the good work.”
I look over her shoulder to see Glock emerge from his cubicle. He’s not big on smiles, but I see the grin in his eyes as he approaches. “How you feeling, Chief?”
“Better,” I manage.
Pickles surfaces from behind Glock. “Well, I’ll be go to hell. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. No pun on the wordsore,Chief.”
“Don’t make me smile,” I say. “Pulls my stitches.”
“Not gonna be easy, seein’ how everyone’s so damn glad to have you back,” Pickles says.
I shake both men’s hands and then Mona’s. “It’s good to be back.”
The familiarity is balm for my soul and I take a moment to soak it in, hoping my emotions don’t choose this moment to betray me.
“We heard about what happened at the farmhouse,” Glock says.
“If you need anything,” Mona adds quickly.
“Just let us know,” Pickles finishes for her.
I smile at them. “Just don’t treat me like I’m some kind of invalid, okay?”
“Hell no.” Pickles laughs. “Sure as hell ain’t going to do that.”
Glock finally breaches the subject no one wanted to raise. “So how did you know to look at Detrick?”
“I didn’t, at first. One thing I was utterly certain of was that Jonas Hershberger wasn’t the killer.”
“How did you know it wasn’t him?” Mona asks.
“Kittens.”
“Kittens?”
I tell them about the litter Jonas saved when we were kids. “I think most sociopaths are born, not made. Very few are created by life events.”
“Detrick matched Tomasetti’s profile to a T,” Pickles says.
“There’s some wisdom in there somewhere,” I reply.
“If it hadn’t been for you—” Mona begins, but I cut her off.
“Don’t give me too much credit, okay?” I think of Daniel Lapp’s remains in the grain elevator. “I don’t deserve it.”
I’m saved from having to explain when the switchboard beeps. Mona rushes toward her desk to take the call, and I head toward my office. I flip on the light, and I’m surprised to see that my desktop is neat. The last time I was here, it was covered with papers from the Slaughterhouse Killer file. I realize Mona or Lois must have tidied it up for me.
I’ve barely made it to my desk when the phone rings. I look down, see Mona’s extension on the display and hit speaker.
“Chief, I just got a call from some guy out on Dog Leg Road. Says there’re loose cows on the road.”
I think of the last time we got the call about Stutz’s livestock, and I smile. “Dispatch Skid, will you? Tell him to cite Stutz this time. He’s had ample time to get that fence fixed.”
“Roger that.”
I end the call and lean back in my chair. From where I sit, I can hear Glock and Pickles arguing the pros and cons of criminal profiling. I hear the drone of the switchboard. The scratch of Mona’s radio. Being here, in this place, feels right. This is where I belong. Here, with my officers. In this town.
I’ll continue to live with my secrets. I know there are worse fates. I think of my nephews, Elam and James. I think of Sarah and the baby she’s carrying. I think of Jacob and the ugliness that has passed between us. I think of my own isolation, my inability to connect, and I realize the time has come for me to reach out. They are my family, and I want them to be part of my life.
