Special Agent Ian Summers took a sip of his too-hot-to-sip coffee. He muddled his lips together and moved his tongue along the roof of his mouth. Luckily the scald wasn’t too bad. He looked again at the deputy seated before him. Steve was an average sized man with puffy eyes and dull brown hair cropped close to his skull. He had wet, brown eyes that seemed ready to burst with tears. Ian didn’t necessarily blame him; kid was dealt a bad hand.

The room Ian found himself was a dark office on the second floor of some building built in the early 1800’s. The wood desk in front of him was nice, if messy, though he was a bit uncomfortable with the mucus stains in the bare trash can just under the desk. The Valley Sheriff’s office was lacking in essentially everything besides dust. The radio center was old and out of use. Each computer was older than the last and Ian was quite positive the elevator was illegal.

“OK,” Ian said, “now that we’re done with the formalities, and I know you’ve been through all this before with state police so please hang with me, lets get down to brass tacks.” Ian inhaled a quick breath, took another sip of his too-hot coffee, and looked down at the paperwork in front of him. “So I see here the Sheriff created case T-10004539 at approximately 1600 hours. Our next radio log is Valley 7, you, asking where the sheriff had gone. Can you walk me through the events you witnessed, as close as you can remember?”

Steve swallowed and rubbed his hands together between his knees. “Ok well I was on patrol and-“

“Whereabouts was that?” Ian interjected.

Steve nodded and continued, “I was on patrol in Burburry when I got a call from the Sheriff, he asked me to meet him at the old Hoagland farm on West Street in Middlevalley.” Steve licked his lips, “I got there before Valley 10 but after… after the Sheriff and Stan.”

“Stan?” Ian asked as he rifled through his papers.

“Uh, Valley 3.”

“Ok, continue.”

“Well, the Sheriff told us we were there to look for the missing Paquette boys, that a guy called Moose told the Sheriff he had the truck the kids were driving.” Steve closed his eyes, recalling events, “And that uh, that, he needed me an’ Valley 10 as backup, that he’d radio if he needed our help.”

Ian checked the case paperwork, “So, I see Moose is written on the case but I also don’t have any identifying information on him. Why’s that?”

Steve shrugged, “I uh… I dunno… Moose is one of those guys we try not to mess with. He’s got a reputation with the guys… he’s uh…” Steve’s eyes brightened, “Oh, we should have a court case on him somewhere, Pete was always talking about this time that he almost tore a state trooper’s jaw off during a domestic.”

Ian swallowed, containing the drip of adrenaline his brain secreted, “So I might have access to his real identity through the Staties?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, I would think so.” Ian made a note and continued.

“Ok, so you were tracking down the missing Paquettes. Did Peter say why he thought the truck was there?”

“Well, when we asked if we could do it another time, it was getting dark, he said we had to do it now. That Moose had invited him and if we didn’t go then he’d have to file a search warrant.”

Ian couldn’t contain the sigh that escaped his mouth, “So he didn’t want to have to do any paperwork?”

Steve smiled weakly, “Yeah, that’s what he said. The Sheriff uh… he preferred to do things like Sheriff Ronald back in the day. Ya see, most of these old guys prefer to keep everything in house.”

“Yeah I’m getting that feeling,” Ian said with a wry smile. He then pushed back his hair and smelled his hand. “Ok, so why did you finally call into State dispatch?”

“Well, he said that if an hour had passed without radio contact that we were to radio back to State and call in the cavalry.”

“Hold on,” Ian said, holding up a hand, “radio back?”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, he’d radioed state to let ‘em know what we were up to. He also asked for back up to be available given Moose’s reputation.”

“Why isn’t it in the radio log then?” When Steve shrugged Ian let out another sigh and wiped his face with the same hand that combed through his hair. There was something soothing about the smells and oils of his own hair. It also helped him think. “Ok, so when you radioed in what did you do when they had no clue what you were talking about?”

“We went up the hill, sirens and lights.”

“And what did you see?”

“Nothing, there was nothing but field and trees. It was…” Steve trailed off for a second, his eyes elsewhere, “It was mowed … like a bullseye”