After Doc had finished his examination, Clyde had come in and began getting Dezzie cleaned up. I stayed, unable to leave her alone in the dark, depressing room. Clyde was quiet, normally he was quite chatty. The horror of the crime seemed to have silenced him. He worked quickly but silently. Sewing her up efficiently and then using a long hose to cleanse her tiny body. He then moved her onto a gurney and wheeled her to the lockers that lined the wall. Opening one of the doors he gently maneuvered her inside and then covered her with a clean sheet. I stood in the shadows watching, until the task was completed.

"Bad business Sheriff." He muttered as he slowly walked towards the door.

"Things like this don't happen in Walnut Hill." I replied with a sad shake of my head.

He preceded me out of the room, flicking off the lights. I stopped at the door, pausing for a moment to look back at the row of cabinets. The third one to the right that held the tiny broken body of someone's princess.

I curtly thanked Clyde. Shook the Docs hand and made my way out to my car. I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles popped. With a vicious twist of my wrist I urged the old Ford to life. I needed answers and it wouldn't wait for the morning.

I turned towards town, passing through the quiet streets and the sleepy little houses with their well manicured lawns and flower boxes. Speeding up as the tight little clusters of houses have way to more stately homes with larger lawns. I turned at the stop sign and continued up a little hill towards the old Howard house. My hands ached from gripping the wheel so tightly and I consciously relaxed my hands flexing my fingers to allow the blood to flow more freely. My headlights followed the turnoff to the house and I cut the headlights and eased off the accelerator as I entered the long driveway. I parked about one hundred yards from the main house and quietly opened the door as I exited the car. Gently pushing the door closed, I silently lamented the loss of my jacket. Even though I was loathe to put it back on since the smell of blood and death had permeated the sheepskin lining. The moonlight seemed to make the white of my shirt glow as I made my way cautiously towards the house.

Being a country boy I was used to stalking game, but at six foot three and two hundred fifty pounds, it was hard for me to move stealthily. Still I managed to creep from tree to tree, staying in the shadows as best I could. Soon I had reached the house, noting the light on upstairs.

I made my way to a small out building, possibly a potting she'd that was set back about sixty feet from the main house. A rose trellis had been nailed to the side allowing me convenient if painful hand and footholds. I scrambled up quickly. Cursing softly as the thorns scratched my flesh. Once on the roof I slithered up the side, clinging to the shingles on the steep A framed roof. From my perch I could see into the upstairs bathroom. A man with his back to me faced the ornate mirror. Despite the distance I could make out the angry red scratches across his back and neck. That bastard!

Almost without concious thought I jumped from the roof, landing with a solid thud, going to my hands and knees in the dust. Then I was off, moving quickly through the shadows. Leaping onto the front porch and instead of barreling through the door like a bull I tested the doorknob. Unlocked.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain control I considered my options. Take him into custody immediately, then beat a confession out of him. Kill him. Gather evidence then make the arrest with other deputies present.

I decided to act. But I had to do this by the book. I couldn't loose my temper. I knocked on the door. The oak wood trembling under my fist. I smiled when I heard him curse and hurriedly tromping down the stairs.

The weasel opened the door, sweat dotted his brow and an unpleasant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "What do you want?" He demanded impatiently.

I subconsciously drew myself up to my full height, feeling my fist clenching at my side even as I casually stuck my left hand into my belt loop. "Howdy, I'm sherriff McGregor. Mind if I come in?"

I could see the intake of breath, the pulse at his throat beating rapidly. He was scared. "Now really isn't a good time." He said attempting to close the door.

I stepped into the door blocking it open with a battered boot and dropping the friendly town sheriff act immediately. "Welp Mr. Tench I'm gonna have to insist." With that I put my full weight against the door and shoved my way into the house.

"You can't do this!" He blustered, his face reddening as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple. Backing away he looked frantically for an escape route. 

There was none, either he would have to go through me, or outrun me in order to escape out the back door. "Mr. Tench you are being detained for questioning in the murder of Dezzie Brown." With those words, I watched his face pale and harden. Now he had nothing left to loose.