The sheriff’s warning
719 Words
Chapter 10
The knock came again.
Slow.
Steady.
Patient.
Amora’s fingers tightened around Noah’s letter.
Outside the office, Sheriff Daniel Brooks called out once more.
“Ethan, I know you’re in there.”
Ethan remained silent. He motioned for Amora to step away from the door.
“Stay behind me,” he whispered.
“You don’t trust him?” she asked.
“I don’t trust anyone who waited eight years to care about Noah’s case.”
Another knock.
Then silence.
Finally, Ethan unlocked the door but kept the security chain in place.
The sheriff stood outside with his hands visible. He was in his early fifties, broad-shouldered, with graying hair beneath his black sheriff’s hat. His face carried the weariness of a man who had seen too much.
“I just want to talk,” he said calmly.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Ethan replied.
The sheriff’s eyes shifted to Amora.
“It’s good to see you again, Amora.”
She didn’t return his smile.
“The last time I saw you, you told me my brother had probably run away.”
A flicker of regret crossed his face.
“I remember.”
“And now?”
“I know I was wrong.”
Those words caught her off guard.
Ethan slowly removed the security chain and let him inside.
The sheriff looked around the office before speaking.
“You’ve both stirred up something dangerous.”
“You mean someone dangerous,” Ethan corrected.
The sheriff nodded.
“Word travels fast in Blackwood.”
“Who told you I was here?” Amora asked.
“I have officers all over town.”
“Or someone watching us,” Ethan said.
The sheriff didn’t deny it.
Instead, he reached into his coat and placed an old evidence bag on the desk.
“I found this in storage yesterday.”
Inside was a silver wristwatch.
Amora gasped.
“Noah’s…”
She recognized it instantly.
It had been a graduation gift from their mother.
“I thought all of Noah’s belongings had been returned,” she whispered.
“They should have been,” the sheriff admitted.
“But this somehow disappeared from the evidence room.”
Ethan frowned.
“Disappeared?”
“It was logged into evidence eight years ago… then every record of it vanished.”
“Who had access?”
The sheriff’s expression darkened.
“That’s the problem.”
“The records were deleted.”
Silence filled the room.
Amora picked up the watch carefully.
The glass was cracked, but the hands had stopped at 11:47.
“Is that important?” she asked.
Ethan took the watch and turned it over.
Something scratched into the metal caught his attention.
“There’s writing.”
Amora leaned closer.
Etched into the back were four tiny numbers.
18 - 7 - 23
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Ethan admitted.
“But Noah wanted someone to find it.”
The sheriff looked uneasy.
“I shouldn’t be here much longer.”
“Why?” Ethan asked.
“Because if someone discovers I reopened Noah’s evidence…”
He paused.
“…I’ll be their next target.”
Before anyone could respond, the sheriff’s phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“What?”
His face drained of color.
“When?”
He ended the call and looked at Ethan.
“The Blackwood Gazette.”
Amora’s heart skipped.
“What about it?”
“There was a break-in.”
“When?”
“Less than twenty minutes ago.”
Ethan and Amora exchanged a look.
“They’re cleaning up,” Ethan said.
“They know we’re coming,” Amora finished.
The sheriff nodded grimly.
“And if there’s anything left to find…”
He looked directly at Amora.
“…you’d better get there before they do.”
Without another word, the three of them rushed out of the office.
None of them noticed the figure watching from the rooftop across the street.
Hidden behind a chimney, the man lifted a camera and snapped another photograph.
One click.
Then another.
He smiled to himself before making a phone call.
“They’re on their way to the Gazette.”
A deep voice answered from the other end.
“Good.”
“This time…”
“They won’t leave empty-handed.”
Or alive.
- Writer
