Whispers and Lies

Detective Miles Corbin found himself staring at the chipped paint of Sheriff Brody Hayes’s office door, a familiar knot of unease tightening in his gut. Chapter seven had ended with a question, a tiny fissure in the carefully constructed dam of Hayes’s cooperation, and Miles intended to widen it. The air in the small, cramped office was thick with the scent of stale coffee and something else, something metallic and vaguely unpleasant that Miles couldn’t quite place.

“Sheriff,” Miles began, his voice low, cutting through the strained silence. “About the timeline for the Henderson disappearance. You said Mr. Henderson was last seen leaving the diner at 9 PM on Tuesday. But Mrs. Gable, who works the late shift at the gas station just outside of town, swears she saw his truck pass her on the highway closer to midnight.”

Hayes, a man whose bulk seemed to fill every available inch of his chair, leaned back, his eyes narrowed. The genial mask he usually wore was starting to fray at the edges. “Mrs. Gable’s a bit… fanciful, Detective. She’s prone to seeing things, especially after a long shift.”