Sheriff Edwards exits the front door and lingers on the porch. A stern frown is carved on his sun-scorched face. Deputy Wheeler, a tall lanky fellow, rounds a corner of the house as Sheriff Edwards reaches the last porch step. He bounds up to the Sheriff like a winded gazelle.

"Nothin' out of the ordinary, Sheriff. No fresh holes in the dirt. No blood splatter or drag lines. Not even a single door hinge out of place or busted. Even the flower pots are all nicely arranged. Not one overturned or broke. Everything's clean as a whistle. No signs of violence. There doesn't seem to be nothin' untoward goin' on here."

Sheriff Edwards' brow once again becomes a mass of deep furrows. He turns his glowering eyes in my direction. Almost absently, he drops his right hand to his gun belt. He continues to look at me, with hateful eyes, as he speaks at his deputy.

"So, it would appear. Just the same. I want Deputy Carswell posted outside for at least the next seventy-two hours. Until we can get a bead on his old lady's whereabouts. Were you able to get hold of the mother-in-law or the brother?"

"No, Sir," Deputy Wheeler states in a high-pitched whiny voice. "We'll keep tryin', Sir!"

"See that you do. Three people don't just disappear without a trace. Somebody knows where they are. And I won't rest 'til I do too! This boy done rubbed me the wrong way. Since the first time, I laid eyes on him. Don't trust him. You keep tryin' to find the brother and mother-in-law. I'll get hold of Windham County. Have 'em put out an APB for their vehicles and license plates. Call me at the station if anything comes up."

Without so much as a word, to me, Sheriff Edwards climbs into the third waiting patrol car and burns out of the driveway-- in reverse. Right now, I am feeling lower than dirt. Never once, have I been on the wrong side of the law. But, somehow, I've managed to be on the absolute wrong side three times in one week.

Deputy Wheeler sidles up to me, a goofy grin on his thin face.

"Don't mind the Sheriff! He's a hard-ass, but that's just 'cause he believes in what he's doin'. He believes in the law. And he don't abide no law-breakers. Once your wife, and her kin, show up-- all peachy and fine-- You'll see, the Sheriff ain't half bad."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

I offer Deputy Wheeler a tiny smile--more like a grimace--and shake my head.

"Sure. I'm sure you're right. Can I interest you in a soda? I've got Coke and Dr. Pepper. I'm fixin' to have one. So, you thirsty?"

"Uh...Yeah," Deputy Wheeler looks towards the side yard, where Deputy Carswell is making her way out of the woodline. "Just let me tell Loranne...Deputy Carswell...What the Sheriff said. Be right back."

Deputy Wheeler lopes off, taking his goofy grin with him.

"I feel safer already," I groan, and then head for the house.

*************************************

6:30 p.m.

Around this time, Deputy Wheeler returns to drop off some food for Deputy Carswell. A couple of burgers and a fry from Hardee's. After settling in, with her supper and a game of Candy Crush, Deputy Carswell locks her cruiser door and begins her night stakeout.

I close the front door and head off to bed. Earlier this evening, I nibbled on a few of Tilda's oatmeal cookies, but I'm not very hungry.

For about an hour, all I can do is stare up at the ceiling. Memories and worries flashing through my brain. I'm not even sure when I fell asleep. I'm even more confused as to what awakened me.

About ten minutes 'til eleven, I find myself once again staring at the ceiling. As I gaze upwards, I become aware of what looks like ripples in the texture of the plaster. Ripples, and tiny pulses of light.

I sit up in bed. Surely, I'm only dreaming. Maybe a weird trick of the light? From a sitting position, the rippling is even more vivid. The intermittent pulsing colors, of the lights, even more sharp and vibrant. There is a pattern to the pulsing. Almost equal to that of a human heartbeat. It is as if the ceiling-- maybe even the house-- is alive. As if it is breathing.

I catch a motion from the side of my eye. I turn my head and stare out the window. A beautiful, but eerie sight, meets my eye.

The sky is littered with what looks like shimmering gems. The same colors as the lights on the rippling ceiling. It reminds me of a pixelated version of the Northern Lights. An Aurora Borealis made of priceless jewels.

I stare at the sky, from my position on the bed, for what seems like forever. I am still sitting up in bed when Deputy Wheeler arrives to relieve Deputy Carswell.

I ask if either one of them saw the lights, in the sky, the previous night. Deputy Carswell says she didn't notice. She was too busy focusing on the house and yard. Deputy Wheeler claims he was asleep, and dead to the world, most of the night.

A dream then? Nah. I don't think so. Oh well. I shrug it off. Back to the task of trying to find Tilda.