CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When they arrived back at the police headquarters in Stateton, Mackenzie found that she was actually quite glad to see Sheriff Clarke. Maybe it was just his familiar face in the midst of a group of days that had introduced them to countless faces that, in the end, had been very little help. She’d called ahead as a courtesy to let Clarke know that they’d be going after a guy who seemed to fit the profile—a guy who was in Clarke’s own backyard and within his jurisdiction by about three miles of the county line.
Clarke met them in front of the police station when they pulled up at 10:05. He was smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. He wasted no time when Ellington pulled up. He waved them over toward his patrol car, opening the passenger side door for Mackenzie.
Look at
