“HOW COULD HE possibly think that about Ike?” Dex asked, one step behind me as I walked quickly under the fluorescent lights of the sheriff’s office. “He’s not dangerous—he’s the one in danger out there!”
“Guess that’s not what the cops are thinking right now,” I said, pausing just before we got to the front desk to keep our voices out of earshot of the secretary there. “If they really thought my dad was in danger, then they’d have said that. They’d launch a manhunt or something. But ‘person of interest’? That’s suspect talk.”
Dex shook his head. “But the sheriff knows your dad. There’s no way he’d think Ike could do something like . . . this.”
Adultery was a far cry from murder, but I knew Sheriff Harper had no reason to give my dad the benefit of the doubt.
“We just have to talk to him. Convince him my dad’s in danger, not a threat.”
But even as I spoke the words, I felt a twinge of doubt. I was positive the email I’d been sent wasn’t from my dad, but did that necessarily mean he had nothing to do with what was happening in the woods of Bone Lake? All I really had was my gut feeling that my dad, despite his faults, wasn’t a killer. And yet . . . my gut had once told me that monsters were real, and that had turned out to be wrong. My gut also once told me that my dad loved my mom and would never hurt her, and that had turned out to be wrong, too.
So maybe my gut couldn’t be trusted. Which meant I had to fall back on facts. And right now, I wasn’t working with very many of them.
A deputy led Dex and me to the same back hall where I’d sat with Micah the night before. After twenty minutes, the sheriff finally opened his office door and beckoned us inside. Up close and in the harsh yellow lighting of the room, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He sighed heavily as he took a seat at his desk.
“You have something you need to tell me?”
I sat up straighter and grabbed the folded piece of paper from my pocket; I’d printed the email in Dad’s office before leaving the house.
“I got this early this morning. It says it’s from my dad, but I know that it’s not. It’s possible it might be from someone else, someone who knows where he is.”
The sheriff raised one eyebrow as he reached for the printout. While he read, my eyes fell on a framed photo on his desk, one of Reese and her mom standing in front of a Christmas tree, their arms around each other. I looked away.
The sheriff peered at me over the top of the printed-out email, then set it down on his desk. “Penny, this sounds like it’s your dad—”
“I get how you might say that,” I interrupted, eager to explain myself. “But it’s not from him. That’s not how my dad talks or writes, and he never calls me Penny. Ever.”
“It’s true,” Dex piped up. “I can back that up.”
“But this is his email address?” the sheriff asked.
“Well . . . yes. But that just means that someone has access to his account. Which I think means that my dad could be in danger. Maybe the person who wrote this is the same person who . . . who killed Bryan and Cassidy.”
The sheriff stared again at the piece of paper before slipping it into a folder on his desk. “I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He quickly picked up the receiver of his phone, and I saw something flash across his face, something like eagerness.
That’s when I knew I had no chance of convincing him the email wasn’t from my dad. Maybe I’d never had a chance. Instead, the email was somehow confirming whatever theory the sheriff already had—and I’d handed it right to him.
He put the receiver to his mouth. “Mary, gather everyone in the evidence room for a meeting in ten.” He hung up again, and I knew I was just seconds away from being dismissed.
“I’m telling you, my dad didn’t write that,” I said, knowing full well the sheriff had already stopped listening to anything I had to say.
“I won’t rule out any possibility, Penny,” the sheriff said, his voice condescending.
“Sheriff, listen. My dad could be out there somewhere, hurt or . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
“Rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to find your dad. And even if you think this email sounds odd, it’s still the best proof we have that Ike is fine. But if you hear from him again, you let me know immediately, okay? We have some questions for him.”
I exchanged a quick look with Dex.
“He didn’t do this. I know he didn’t.”
“No one is saying he did,” the sheriff said calmly.
I rolled my eyes. “Please. I know what person of interest means.”
“Person of interest means person of interest. That’s all.”
He clearly wasn’t going to tell me anything. Unless . . .
“Just tell me why you think he had something to do with this.” I kept my eyes on his, doing my best to channel the confidence of the reporter outside. I lifted my chin. “You want me to keep you in the loop if I hear from him, but I won’t accidentally incriminate my dad just because you have an old grudge against him.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed briefly, and his jaw twitched as if he was grinding his teeth together. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dex’s head tilt. He was probably confused about this “grudge.” But I wouldn’t out the secret the sheriff and Julie Harper had kept all these years. Not unless I had to.
“You know I’m the person he’s most likely to reach out to. And if you want me to let you know the next time he does,” I said, eyeing the folder, “I need to know why he’s a person of interest.”
The sheriff kept his cool gaze on me, and for a moment I thought he would kick me out of his office. Or maybe arrest me. Instead, he pushed back from his desk and crossed his arms. One second passed, then two.
“Fine. This will be public soon anyway. An item was found at the scene, near Bryan’s truck. It belonged to your father.”
I could hear blood pounding through my head, thudding through my ears. Next to me, Dex made a scoffing sound, but I could barely hear it. My arms felt like they were filled with iron, weighed down to the sides of the chair.
“What . . . kind of item?” I whispered.
“That’s all the information I can give you right now,” the sheriff said coolly.
I knew the signs of a brush-off, and my brain struggled to come up with arguments, to get him to say anything more.
“But . . . just because something of Ike’s was out in those woods doesn’t mean that he . . . I mean, he goes out there all the time!” Dex said, his voice rising. “Maybe he dropped something there before. Or maybe he found the bodies, and then—”
“Didn’t come forward?”
I swallowed. “Just because you found something of his out there doesn’t prove he did anything wrong.”
“No, it just makes him a person of interest. It’s important that we find him and ask him everything he knows. So you’ll tell me, Penny, if he gets in touch with you?”
All I could do was nod.
“Thanks for your cooperation,” the sheriff said, rising from his chair.
Dex and I got up, too, letting ourselves be led from the office. The sheriff even put one hand on my shoulder, ushering me from the room and out into the hall. There was no need—I didn’t want to be in this place for one second longer. I needed to think over this piece of information and figure out what it meant. What object of my dad’s had been found in the woods with Bryan and Cassidy? And what did that mean, if it meant anything at all?
The thoughts swirled too quickly through my head for me to latch on to any one of them. There were too many gaps. . . . I needed to know more.
The sheriff continued to lead us down the hall, as if he was afraid we wouldn’t actually make it to the exit without his help. We passed an open doorway on our way out, and two men I’d never seen before were standing in the small office, their heads bent together as they spoke. They both had dark hair, cut close to their heads. Both wore crisp black suits and shiny black shoes that seemed out of place among the worn brown uniforms and paneled walls of the sheriff’s office. These men weren’t from the group of journalists outside. They were something else altogether.
I slowed my steps, trying to get a better look as we passed. One of the men looked up, catching my eye. Without looking away or changing his expression at all, he took two steps to the door and shut it firmly in my face.