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Clear River County Sheriff Bob Ellerd eased into his high-backed tufted leather chair.

Covering the wall behind him was a Texas flag, along with awards, citations and framed photos, some with Ellerd and politicians, and one with Ellerd and Vernon Hamilton.

Luke took a chair across from the desk.

“I wanted to chat a bit before you go back out on patrol,” Ellerd said, turning to his computer monitor. Momentarily keeping his eyes on it, he said, “Dispatch tells me you requested a history of calls in East Division for the tenth, reaching into the eleventh.”

Luke was silent.

Ellerd looked directly at him and asked, “Why?”

Luke felt his gut spasm. Swallowing, he cautioned himself to stay close to the truth.

“Well—” he cleared his throat “—I was off duty driving home, it was storming and I thought I spotted someone in distress. I stopped, got out and looked but didn’t find anyone. That’s why I was asking. So now I think it was a tree limb, an animal or something.”

Luke then thought of the car damage seen by his neighbor and Vern. He added: “I know I hit some branches in the storm, scraped up my car.”

Ellerd stared at him without speaking for a long moment.

“If you saw someone needing help, you should’ve called it in,” Ellerd said. “We could’ve sent someone out to check.”

“But I looked and didn’t see anyone. And with the storm, I didn’t want to tie anyone up.”

Ellerd continued staring.

“A word of advice,” he said. “Next time you need dispatch to do a search for you or get a specific history, go through the sergeant or lieutenant. All right?”

“Got it.”

“Don’t get me wrong. You’re okay to search our data banks, DMV and criminal records as part of your job on your own. But we’ve got to log every specialized or custom search we do for our monthlies, the annual and audits.”

“Understood.”

Suddenly recalling how Vern had questioned him about the damage to his SUV, Luke’s focus went to the photo of Vern on the wall, and Ellerd noticed him looking.

“Yeah, that’s Vernon up there. Man, we go back.” Ellerd smiled. “He brought me along when I started as reserve, then jailer and moved my way up. Supported my run for sheriff. And here I am in my second term. Probably run for a third.”

Luke nodded.

“I know he’s your father-in-law, put in a good word for you. But the fact is, being with the LAPD, you were qualified and we had a spot to fill. And I’m glad to have you. Wish we could pay you more but my hands are tied.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“As I mentioned when you started, you might find things a bit slower, the culture a little different. You’ve been with us a short while but you’re doing fine.”

“Appreciate that, sir, thanks.”

“What am I sayin’? You’re local, raised over in Dixon, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And are you and Carrie all settled in now?”

“Almost.”

“That’s a pretty part of the county. You got a nice little bit of twisting road out there. I mean, it’s our job to know every inch of our yard, isn’t it?”

Luke hesitated. “It is.”

“But it’s changing fast. We got more new developments, like Fawn Ridge, eating up the rural areas with those big new hotel-size houses. I’m ramblin’ on.”

“That’s okay.”

Ellerd sat straighter and leaned forward. “Before I let you get back to it, I want to ask, how’s Carrie?”

“Good, she’s doing good,” Luke said in that socially superficial way people say “Good.”

“It can’t be easy for her, coming back home here, thirteen years after it happened.”

“No, but we wanted to come back, you know, with our situation and Vern’s situation.”

Ellerd paused.

“Yes, it seems like the right thing, given all the circumstances and Vern’s diagnosis.” Ellerd rubbed his chin. “Listen, can you please let Carrie know that if she remembers anything about the case, we’d be happy to talk to her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“It may be a cold case, but it’s still open. I got two good detectives handling it, Blake Mallory and Eugene Cobb.” Ellerd smiled. “Blake’s due to retire soon and would love to clear it. Anyway, I’ll tell you, there’s always pressure to solve a case like this. It’s an awful thing for the families to bear—they need a resolution, you understand?”

“I do.”

“Hell, I want to clear it.” Ellerd studied his palms. “We looked at a number of people, but the killer could be dead, in prison or living free among us. There were all sorts of theories, all kinds of speculation at the time.”

Ellerd shook his head slowly.

“They even looked hard at Carrie,” he said. “They were just being thorough, leaving no stone unturned.”

Ellerd stared at nothing, as if looking into the past.

“Abby Hall and Erin Eddowes. Both seventeen. Good girls from good families. Loved. Popular in school.”

Ellerd directed a question at Luke.

“I understand from Vern that Carrie’s had therapy over the years, to help her cope, or heal, as they say?”

“That’s right, and it has helped her.”

“Maybe now, being back here, she might remember something—any detail, no matter how small, might help us solve this case.”

“I guess time will tell.”

Ellerd crossed his arms. “You got that right,” he said. “Two girls were murdered and Carrie’s our only living witness.”

Later, after his shift ended, Luke walked through the parking lot to his SUV.

Glancing at the damage, grappling with his mystery, he heard a low rumbling.

“Hey, Luke.”

He turned to see Deputy Clayton Smith at the wheel of a shining blue Mustang fastback. Luke followed Clay’s gaze, which lingered on his Chevy’s front end before shifting to Luke.

“We’re going to Willie’s. Join us.”

“Thanks, Clay, but I should be going home. Beautiful car. Is that a ’67?”

“It’s a ’68. I saw you come out of Bob’s office earlier. Looked like he was giving you a hard time. Come out, just for one.”

Luke gave it a thought, deciding he could text Carrie.

“A quick one.”

***

His eyes adjusting to the darkened bar, Luke spotted Clay at a table with two other deputies.

Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” mingled with the smell of beer and deep-fried food on the cool air as Clay kicked out an empty chair for Luke.

“There he is,” Clay said.

“Hey, Luke,” Lonnie Welch said, resuming his conversation with Garth Reeger, who gave Luke a stiff nod. “They never caught the Zodiac and never caught Jack the Ripper.” Lonnie took a swig of beer. “And they never would’ve caught BTK.”

“But they did,” Reeger said.

“His ego got the better of him,” Clay said.

“Right,” Lonnie said. “Son of Sam was on his way to immortality until the NYPD’s police work stopped him.”

“Got him on a parking ticket,” Clay said as their server emerged. “What’ll you have, Luke? On me.”

“Thanks, Clay—a Bud Light.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Lonnie said, “Green River, Bundy, Dahmer, Gacy—they all messed up. It’s a rare animal that can elude justice.”

“What about right here?” Reeger said, shooting Luke a cold look, then the others. “Wild Pines. Still unsolved.”

Reeger took a swig of his beer, then studied his bottle on the table. “What do you think happened out there in the woods with those girls, Luke?”

“I don’t know, Garth.”

“Any theories?”

Luke’s beer came, and he nodded his thanks. “Nope.”

“You must have one or two, Mr. LAPD. Mr. Son-in-Law to the former sheriff. Your wife was there. You two must’ve talked about it.”

Lonnie and Clay traded an uneasy look.

“Knock it off, Garth,” Clay said.

Luke picked up his beer, took a small drink, then set it down. “I should go.”

“Stay put, there, Luke.” Reeger stood, tossing crumpled bills on the table. “I gotta go. See y’all.”

Watching Reeger leave, Lonnie said, “Ignore him. He thought his cousin was getting your job.”

“That’s right,” Clay said. “So, how’re you and Carrie doing? You grew up over near Dixon, right?”

“I did.”

“Must be strange moving back. How’s it going?”

“We’re settling in, taking it one day at a time.”

“Was Bob giving you a hard time?” Clay said.

“Not really.” Luke shook his head. “I love your Mustang.”

“I like restoring cars. Got a few in the works out at my place.”

“So, Luke—” Lonnie leaned closer “—I’m sorry, I got to ask, did Bob tell you about Cobb and Mallory?”

“He did.”

“I heard they’re hoping with Carrie back, she’ll remember something.”

Luke nodded.

“Didn’t she have a serious head injury?” Clay said. “Messed with her memory and everything?”

Luke nodded again.

“Don’t mean to pry,” Clay said.

“Yes, you do, Clay.” Lonnie chuckled. “Luke, did you know Clay here’s studying to make detective, maybe take the slot when Mallory retires?”

“I did not know.” Luke raised his bottle, saluting Clay.

“We’ll see about that,” Clay said, looking at his beer. “I saw the little bit of damage to your Blazer there. Let me know when you want to get it fixed. I know guys.”

Luke raised a palm. “That’s mighty kind, Clay. But it’s not serious, and with all we got going, I’ll get around to it. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“So,” Lonnie said, “everyone knows they really looked hard at Carrie for Wild Pines. Then Donnie Ray Hyde, sitting there on death row, surfaces as the one who likely killed those two girls. You guys think it’ll ever be solved, what with Hyde’s execution coming up?”

“Who knows? Time will tell,” Clay said. “What do you think, Luke?”

“I really don’t know.” Luke shook his head slowly, staring at his half-finished beer.