Discombobulate

Chapter Fourteen

Sheriff Winston had been sitting behind his desk for twenty minutes. He had been trying to work up the courage to call the former sheriff again. The idea of talking to Greg Sullivan left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He had no respect for the former sheriff. He needed to maintain his professionalism while talking to Sullivan. That was hard to do when the former sheriff wouldn't pick up his cell phone. Winston was becoming more irritated every time he was sent to voicemail.

He whispered a brief prayer underneath his breath. "One more time, I'll try to call him one more time." He picked up the corded phone on the side of his desk and dialed the former sheriff's cell phone number.

It went to voicemail for the third time.

"Hey, it's Greg Sullivan. If you're hearing this message, I'm not around. Leave your name and number. I'll get back to you when I can."

Winston slammed the phone back into it's receiver. He rubbed the sides of his temple. He was informed he could reach Sullivan from his personal number. So far, it had been a dead end. He spent the majority of the afternoon trying to reach him. He needed to know where Susan and Jennifer's clothes went.

He didn't want to, but it seemed to be his only option. He'd have to go find Greg Sullivan in person. He dreaded having to have the conversation with him. A phone call was already bad enough. Talking to him in person seemed like a nightmare.

He picked up the phone once more and dialed a number. His fingers drummed along the top of his cluttered desk. He left work late last night and didn't bother to clean up.

The Houghton's case file was still on his desk. He scribbled reminders on yellow sticky notes. The blue pen ink looked like chicken scratch. He had to place them on his calendar. One of the other officers knocked over his mug of pens. They hadn't cleaned them up and neither had he.

"Hello?"

"Hi Shelly, it's Sheriff Winston. Do you happen to have Sullivan's address?" He picked up a new sticky note and the blue pen.

"It's around here somewhere, give me a minute."

He stayed quiet and listened to the front receptionist move around. Shelly had been working as the station's receptionist for a few months. She had the address and phone numbers of almost everyone in the department.

"It's 253 South Street. Is he not answering his phone?"

Winston's hand flew across the sticky note with the pen. "I've tried three times and he hasn't picked up once."

"Did you try calling him from your personal phone instead of the office phone?"

"I sent him a text message last night and he never responded to it. If I had to take a guess, I bet he's ignoring me."

Shelly laughed, "that's not a surprise. I've tried to call him twice this week and he hasn't answered me either."

"I'm going to his house to ask a few questions about the Houghton investigation. I'll tell him you're trying to reach him."

Her laughing cut off. "The Houghton investigation? I thought it was at a dead end."

"It's going to be if I can't talk to Sullivan. I'm leaving through the rear entrance and I should be back within an hour. Call me if you need me."

"Will do."

Shelly hung up the phone.

Winston ripped the addressed sticky note off the pile. After a little consideration, he decided it'd be best to leave the Houghton case file behind. There wasn't much of a need for it.