stood motionless, gazing at the wall above the desks, appearing not to notice everyone staring at her. When the chief came down the hall, she gathered up her gloves and purse and extended her hand.
âMrs. Mitchell?â
Shayâs first impression of Chief Weyant was that he had the right look for a difficult job, projecting unflappable calm while his department tried to keep a lid on behind-the-scenes turmoil brought by the boom. Fortyish and fit, Weyant had the ramrod-straight posture and bland good looks to carry off the polyester uniform shirt without giving up an ounce of authority. He was probably six one, six two, and his dark, thick hair was just a shade longer than a military-style brush cut, a bit of silver showing at the temples.
Colleen flashed him a smile so brief it might have been imagined, and shook his hand. âThank you for agreeing to talk to me and Ms. Capparelli.â
The chief glanced over at Shay and acknowledged her with a nod. If he knew about her prior visit, he didnât let on. âSure thing. Come on back. Get you ladies some coffee? Water?â
Colleen declined, murmuring her thanks, and they followed him to a large office at the corner of the building. The windows looked out over the street where theyâd parked, and then past the downtown to the old houses and barns and vacant lots at the edge of town, beyond which the white-and-tan landscape stretched to the horizon under an oppressive gray sky. The snow had stopped, only to seem to be gathering for a greater onslaught later.
The women took the chairs facing the chiefâs desk. Weyant rested his hands on the laminate desktop and regarded them gravely.âLet me start by telling you the same thing Sergeant Sanders told Mrs. Capparelli. We are concerned that your sons have been out of communication, and we are devoting as many resources as we can to locating them. But we canât rule out the possibility that thereâs an explanation other than them getting into some kind of trouble. Weâve seen too many of these boys light out of here without giving notice, just to show up a few weeks or months later in another state entirely. You know how it is when youâre that age.â
âNot really, no,â Colleen said coldly. She sat very erect in her chair. âPlease share a little more about your line of thinking.â
âOh. Wellâall I meant was, you got a twenty-year-old, especially a boy, a male, thereâs going to be a lot more hormones and such than common sense at work. If I had a nickel for every fight we had to break up in the barsâand this is after these boys come off a twelve-hour shift that would knock me out, Iâm not afraid to say itâwell, Iâd be a rich man. Then we got the casinos barely an hour away, orâand this happens more often than we like to admitâthey just get tired of the guy-to-girl ratio around here, they take the money theyâve made and go looking somewhere else. Find a girl and an easier job and donât get around to writing home for a while.â
His speech concluded with a shrug, the chief looked relieved, even a little pleased with himself. It was a better, smoother version of the speech that Sanders had given Shay two days earlier. Clearly, Weyant had put a little thought into it, adding the bit about the boys coming off long shifts, for instanceâthat was a nice touch. Maybe he saw the writing on the wall, figured heâd be using the speech on a regular basis. Heck, maybe it really was true, and he already had.
Colleen didnât say a word. She watched him expectantly, barely blinking, her face giving nothing away. The chief put a finger underhis collar, loosening it, and cleared his throat, waiting for one of them to say something. But Shay decided to take a page out of Colleenâs book and stayed silent.
âSo,â Weyant finally said.
âMy son has not left town for a girl or a casino ,â
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