Sheriff Wilson stopped into the Collon Cafe, as he did almost every morning, for a spiced ginger and cinnamon latte. Saturdays were no exceptions. Even on the rare days that he wasn't working, he often made the trip in. On desperate occasions, where that wasn't possible, he attempted to make his own at home, which of course, yielded disastrous results.
It was a necessary part of his day, as necessary as the morning shower or feeding Toby.
A cynic might have pointed out all the money that he'd spent on them over the years could've added up to a considerable savings account, but in his humble opinion, life was about the small, ritualistic pleasures that transported a person from one side of the clock to another.
What did he even have to save for anyway? Kids? He had none. Travel? It's not like he ever left Willow Town.
As he arrived into the cafe, he spied a golden-haired Aimee seated behind the counter, reading a novel. Sometimes it was Samuel. At one point it was David. Before that it was Carragh and Peter. Sometimes it was that student, Demi, who was studying philosophy at Cormac Kavannah.
But mostly it was Aimee, and even though it was delicious regardless of who made it, it was extra magical when made by her hands.
"Hello, Aimee," he said in his loud, boisterous voice which filled up so much of the small space.
Without even glancing up from her novel, she said, "Hello, Sheriff. Will it be the usual then?"
"The usual, plus an Americano, please."
She nodded, set down her book, then proceeded to make it.
He gazed around the empty cafe, observing the rich mahogany tables and matching chairs. Then, there were the posters of old seventies and eighties bands, such as Pink Floyd, The Doors, Sonic Youth, and Metallica. The nineties even received their fair share of representation in the form of Soundgarden, Nirvana, and Alice in Chains.
"It's quiet in here today," he remarked.
She offered her fairly convincing fake laugh, which he still appreciated, because he'd been making that same joke for years now.
He was always the first customer of the day as he arrived, like clockwork, a couple of minutes after opening. It was just rude, to wait outside before the doors opened, in his opinion. So he'd boiled it down to a fine art, to leave it a few minutes for the staff to set up and enjoy a bit of ambience of peace and quiet, before his intrusion.
On the rare occasions where someone actually did beat him to the punch and he had to stand in line, he would approach the counter afterwards and shake things up a bit by saying, 'it's crazy in here today.'
Samuel actually genuinely did find that one funny. He'd laughed hard, perhaps more from surprise than anything else, the first time that Wilson had cracked it.
"There you go, Sheriff," Aimee said, handing him over the two cups.
"You're an angel," he said, relieving her of them.
"Oh, it's nothing. You have a good day," she said, before returning to her book.
"You too, sweetheart."
He returned to the patrol car outside, where Officer Morrow sat patiently waiting in the passenger seat. Officer Jackie Morrow was still a rookie, but if she stuck around with Wilson long enough, no doubt she would begin to learn the ropes.
Sheriff Wilson handed her the cup.
She glanced at his. "A spiced latte again?"
"Always."
"All that sugar first thing in the morning can't be good for you, Sheriff."
"Even if the trade-off is ten years of life in exchange for this little cup of joy each morning, then I'll see it as being well worth it." He sipped it and as he felt the explosion of flavours first greet his tongue and then the back of his throat, he thought that yes, he would even consider sacrificing twenty. "And what about you? An Americano? How can you even drink that stuff?"
"I need my coffee to be black and bitter to properly wake myself up."
"You might as well go ahead and drink tar. Life's too short not to enjoy delicious coffee."
"And some lives will be shorter than others," she warned.
They parked there, roadside, along Kipper Pass. That was the road that wound along the northern border of Willow Town and spilt out onto the second exit on the motorway. Here though, the traffic was so distant that the cars running along it were like insects. Their noise couldn't even be heard above the bird songs.
The area that they currently shaded themselves in was surrounded by flora. It was so dense that it actually hid the car from those passing by.
It was a bright, clear, dusty morning, idyllic and beautiful. Thankfully, those Hayfever tablets that Doctor Bell had switched him over to during the summer had worked a treat and he could enjoy such days without the constant sneezing and drowsiness.
Sheriff Wilson was on the most bittersweet moment of his day, his final sip of coffee, when he felt his phone buzz. That was unusual for this time of morning. When he rummaged about and managed to get it into his hand, the lit screen informed him that the call was coming from Geraldine Quick.
What on earth?
"Uh, I'm going to step out to take this," he said.
"Sure. Take your time." Officer Morrow was wolfing down a peanut-flavoured breakfast bar, perhaps in an effort to mask the bitter tang of her coffee.
The Sheriff exited the patrol car and paced up and down the car park. He was able to smell the sweetness of the flowers, pungent, amplified by the sun which was beating down fiercely, baking his skin.
As he answered his phone and pressed it to his ear, he immediately heard her voice, panicked, as she addressed him by his first name. "Landon? Landon, are you there?"
"Yes."
"Oh, thank God."
Sheriff Wilson angled his body so that Officer Morrow wouldn't see his expression. There was a block of ice settling in his gut as he said, "Come on, Geraldine, what's got you all hysterical?"
"It's Ryan. He didn't come home after the concert last night."
He gazed off to the distance, in the direction of the pier and the boardwalk. He couldn't quite make either out, as there were too many buildings in the way. It'd been far too quiet this year for Shriekfest, in his estimations. There were no noise complaints, no anti-social behaviour incidents, and nothing dodgy picked up by patrol.
Breathing, he said, "It's still early and he's just a teenager. He might still be out. Might be at a friend's house for all you know."
Geraldine's words tumbled out like an avalanche after that, as if she had absolutely zero control over her own thought process. "No, he's not even answering my calls. This isn't like him, Landon. He would've sent a text. Even if he needed to charge his phone, he would've loaned one or have done something."
"Do you know who he was with?" Sheriff Wilson asked.
"Neil, Katie, Shauna, Jeanette, Tommy, you know, all those friends of his from school."
"Have you-"
"I called them and they all gave the same story. The idiots went up to Slate to watch the fireworks, but they stopped in the old Pearson place to play a haze on a girl called Marie Shadow. She was on a date with Ryan. They said it was only harmless fun, but apparently she took it the wrong way and ran off. Then Ryan ran after her and that's the last they saw of him."
"The Slate?" Hundreds and hundreds of memories threatened to rush through his mind at that. Many involved raised voices from his parents, and more were of his father, with a whisky bottle almost as a permanent fixture of his hand. At first he watered it down with Diet Coke, but he stopped needing to do that at a point. No, Sheriff Wilson held that all back, as if by a powerful dam. "Don't worry, Geraldine. We will find him. We will tear this town apart, if we have to, to get him back to you."
"Thank you, Landon."
When he returned to the patrol car, Officer Morrow asked, "Is everything alright?"
Sheriff Wilson gripped his steering wheel with both hands. "We have a potential missing person. It's probably nothing, but let's act fast and nip it in the bud."
After he relayed the details of the phone call to Jackie, she said, "So we need to find this Marie Shadow?"
"Check with the kids who were at the Pearson place. One of them might know. If not, the school will have her address on file."
"It's the weekend. Won't they be closed?"
"We have a number for the principal, in the Ledger back at the station. Get hold of her and she should be able to contact one of the admin staff and the groundskeeper to come in and give us access. I'm sure they'll all understand, given the circumstances."
"And once we pull the address?"
"Take Deputy Tanner with you and go speak to the girl. Get her story. I'll phone McNaught and get him and Philips to check in with the local hospitals and shelters. Then I'll get Rosie and Quincy to go up to Slate with a small team, to check the house and scour the surrounding area."
He was sweating now and struggling to hide it.
"Sure, of course, Sheriff. That all sounds like a plan, but what about you?"
"Me? I have someone I want to speak to first."