A Pleasant Drive

The woman blustered through the front door and ignored the Deputy at the desk, instead making her way directly to Sheriff Darren Letsky's office. The Deputy, the young one, Klein, nearly arm barred her as she crossed the threshold.

"Sherrif! Sherrif! Ow, get off me, you thug!"

Letsky watched the scene unfold from behind his computer screen. The woman was 40, maybe, and 110 lbs soaking wet. She was upset, but not threatening.

"It's okay, Klein," he told the kid, who immediately returned to his duties without another word.

The woman sat, introduced herself as Amanda LeFitte, from New York City, and stated that her grandmother was missing. Letsky knew the grandmother, but not well.

"When was the last time you heard from her?"

"We spoke two days ago, when I told her I was coming up for a visit. She was fine."

"And now?"

"She's gone."

Amanda was adamant that Grandma Gladys had not gone to the store or was away on a weekender. And, because it was a slow day and he was bored, Letsky offered to check out Gladys' home with Miss LeFitte.

Also, it was a nice day. Klein reminded him not to forget his sunglasses as he made his way toward the door.

Cumberland was not a big town, and the drive to Gladys' hilly street was brief and conversation free. All in all, a very pleasant drive.

Letsky parked the SUV & set the brake, then followed Amanda to the front door. While waiting for her to retrieve the key from a hanging plant, he noted an empty bird feeder in the side yard. Not necessarily the product of neglect, because it was twisted and bent. Maybe from a wandering bear.

From inside one of the neighboring houses, a dog barked, eager to be let out. It clearly wasn't from the little house next door, which appeared abandoned. The grass was waist-high and the mailbox was full.

Amanda led him inside and gave him the layout. The old woman lived alone, her husband Leroy having passed away nearly 30 years ago. Her daily routine was neatly etched in the worn floorboards, her spot at the kitchen table, and the single plate in the drainer.

The kitchen was not immaculate, but it was clean. One interesting thing, though. On the countertop by the sink, Gladys kept a pair of pig-shaped salt and pepper shakers. The pepper was fine, but the salt was tipped over. White granules radiated from the little white pig.

The hair on Letsky's neck tingled. For the first time, he wondered if he needed gloves.

He leaned close and pulled out a pen light; examined the countertop more closely. Amanda watched this and asked, "Anything?"

"Mmm. Just curious."

Then he saw it. Tiny, nearly imperceptible. But there. Definitely there.

A spot of blood on the faucet.

"Shit."

"What?"

Now Letsky did get the gloves, and swapped the pen light for the department-issued ultraviolet wand. He instructed Amanda to step out of the kitchen and not to touch anything. She complied, but again asked, "What?"

He swept the wand slowly and methodically over the counter, the cabinets, the floor. Any blood would illuminate brightly in the ultraviolet light. He squatted and backed toward the kitchen door, hooked a thumb over his shoulder, "Where does this lead?"

"Backyard."

Another drop, hidden in the dark wood grain of the cabinets. He would have missed it without the wand. Still squatting, he shuffled backwards, toward the door. Another drop, then another, then three.

The door was a cheap bargain store model, made from lightweight pressed wood between two thin layers of aluminum. He hadn't noticed before, but when he got up close he noticed the lock was busted and the knob was at an odd angle. Careful not to smudge any prints, he pulled the door open a few inches. Once free, it sagged on it's hinges. There was more blood on the outside of the door, a pattern for which Letsky didn't need the wand. He swore again.

Amanda, from the hallway, asked, "What?"

"Stay there."

He touched the CALL button of the walkie on his shoulder and leaned into it, "Letsky to Klein. You copy?"

A crackle, then, "Klein here."

"Possible 11-80. Please send Officer Drew to back me up and notify the Crime Scene guys."

And just like that, Klein's professional facade melted away to reveal a kid who had no experience outside of the odd DUI, "Jesus. Really?"

"Do it," Letsky said, and read Klein the address.

Suddenly, Klein's professional exterior returned, "Copy."

Amanda, her voice shaky, "What's going on?"

"Stay there."

Letsky couldn't see outside, but the image of the severely disturbed bird feeder ran through his head, and his previous thoughts of a bear. He didn't want Amanda to see her dead grandmother's body should she have been attacked by a wild animal and left in the backyard. He nudged the door open with his foot.

The backyard was empty. Bathed in sunlight, a body would have been impossible to miss. The only thing his ears picked up was the sound of wind chimes, delicate and sad.

But there was a dark streak over by the lonely apple tree at the back of the lot, by the treeline. At first he thought it was a shadow.

Christ, I hope that's not blood.

Watching his step, he made his way to the apple tree, and for the first time in his career, he drew his sidearm.

The dark spot grew bigger as he neared. If it was blood, it had to have been a massive trauma. There were buckets of it.

He cocked his head to his walkie again. He just touched the CALL button to report in when his eyes caught movement in the trees to his left. Something big. He turned and saw only teeth. Never got off a shot.

There was a sharp pain in his chest as he went down, and somewhere a thousand miles away, Amanda screamed.