"So there hasn't been anything new?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. He would've called us if he'd gotten a lead, or a break in the case.
"Nothing." He hesitated, then added, "Have you talked to Rob today?"
"No," I said. "Why?"
"That first day, the kid was always underfoot, constantly coming in to the station and calling every five minutes. Yesterday morning, he started off the same way, but then, a bit after noon, he stopped. I figured he finally understood that it wasn't helping. Then I tried to call him last night to tell him we were still working but hadn't found anything new. He didn't answer."
I swore, then quickly apologized.
"I'm going to take that as confirmation that you haven't heard from him," the sheriff said, his voice sounding tired.
I wondered how much sleep he'd gotten in the past two days.
"No, I haven't." I stood and reached for my car keys.
"I'll send someone over to check on him."
"No," I said. "Don't bother . . . I'm on my way."
"But you're at work, Jack. You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm leaving now."
"Do you think Rob would hurt himself?"
I didn't want to, but I answered honestly. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure what he'd do if he thought Melanie was gone for good."
"Okay, I'm going to send a car over, Jack. You can still come, but I can't wait for you to get there. Not if he's in some sort of danger."
"Thanks, I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, and ended the call. Then I shouted to the foreman, telling him I had a family emergency and would be back as soon as I could. I didn't wait for his response, but climbed in my car and drove away as fast as the old rust-bucket would go.
When I arrived, two squad cars were there and the sheriff was getting out of one of them. The moment I saw his grim and haggard expression, I knew something was wrong. I looked at the front of the house. The door was wide open.
"Jack." The sheriff moved to intercept me.
"What happened?" I could hear the panic in my voice.
"There's no one here," he said.
I stopped. "What?"
He held up his hands, palms out. "When Deputy Adair got here, the door was closed and locked. No one answered."
"Maybe he's at work."
The sheriff pointed toward the driveway and I saw what my brain hadn't registered before: Rob's car. While he worked closer to home than I did, walking wasn't an option unless he wanted to leave an hour before he was scheduled to start.
"What happened to the door then?" I asked.
"When the deputy didn't get an answer, and said the car was in the driveway, I had him break it down." My father-in-law looked away when he said it.
"You thought Rob tried to kill himself."
He looked back at me, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to; I could see the answer written on his face. He'd truly thought Rob would take his own life and, as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't say that I hadn't been thinking the same thing. Because what I'd told him before was true—I didn't know how far Rob would go if he thought Melanie was gone for good.
The sheriff remained quiet for a moment, as if deciding on an appropriate response, then said, "I'll admit that was my first thought, but we found no evidence of anything like that. There was no note, or anything that indicated he might be suicidal."
Dazed and Confused
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