The next morning Tom had planned to rise early to get to the station, where he would call Sierra and try to arrange a united front for the choice to stop prioritizing the investigation over more pressing matters. In the wake of a tragedy, he reasoned, the town needed reassurance that its leaders were on the same page, held the same values. But Sierra, ever the shrewd politician, broke the news of his decision in the early hours of the morning, casting him as the villain who heartlessly and arbitrarily decided to end the search because Jason Blossom was no longer of importance. In fact, Tom was awoken at just past five by a phone call from Alice Cooper insinuating as much.
Snatching his phone from his bedside table, Tom glanced at the number and quickly answered despite not recognizing it. "Sheriff Keller speaking."
"Sheriff, this is Alice Cooper, calling from The Riverdale Register in regards to Mayor McCoy's statement on your decision to cancel the investigation into Jason Blossom's whereabouts," Alice chirped. "Is it true you decided to end the search for Jason due to lack of funds?"
Stifling a weary groan, Tom struggled to locate a diplomatic response. Trust Sierra to try to use him as a scapegoat even when he was fully willing to take responsibility for the matter in the first place.
"The investigation into Jason Blossom's whereabouts is not canceled, but it remains unconcluded. The sheriff's department has simply reached the decision to end our ongoing search of the local area," Tom eventually said. "We believe, after a careful review of all available evidence and witness statements, that Jason can be presumed dead after drowning in Sweetwater River. Of course, we remain open to any information the public can provide, and we are in contact with other agencies to help us locate Jason. However, while this event is unmistakably a tragedy, the sheriff's department cannot ignore the pressing needs of the town in order to prioritize a case that has an obvious conclusion and no active leads."
"And what do you have to say to the Blossom family on the matter?" Alice asked slyly.
Tom paused. Knowing the antipathy between the Coopers and the Blossoms, which had only been escalated by Jason's apparent death, Alice and Hal were probably clamouring for an inflammatory quote to throw in Clifford and Penelope's face.
"I have the deepest sympathy for them," Tom said honestly. "As a parent, there can be no worse fate that losing your child. I'd like them to know, that while the sheriff's department must prioritize other cases for the moment, we have not reached this decision easily or lightly. We understand the need for closure, and we wish to offer them support in their grief. While we can no longer continue to give the same effort toward locating Jason as we have been doing for the past two months, we will ensure his investigation receives the proper attention it warrants."
Predictably, Alice did not seem impressed by his response. "Thank you, Sheriff. We appreciate your time." She ended the call before he had a chance to reply.
Tom only sighed as he momentarily set down his phone and threw back the covers, rising from his bed. He had a feeling that his brief conversation with Alice was only the primer for a long day of the same.
His suspicions proved correct, and all day he was fielding calls from various media outlets; the Blossoms' position in high society had garnered a strong following in the case. By the end of the day, Tom found himself wishing he had arranged a press conference. He had hoped that he would be able to quietly give a statement to the paper about the deadend in the investigation and contain any of the frenzy around the matter in order to spare the Blossoms' feelings. But now, Tom realized, such a hope had been profoundly naïve.
But at the very least, Tom reasoned, as he pulled his truck into the driveway at just past eight o'clock in the evening, his force was relieved with his decision. The continuing search for Jason Blossom had removed them from their regular duties in order to engage in a fruitless search for what was almost certainly a body. By the beginning of August, his deputies were questioning the resources being wasted on a case with such a natural conclusion, and Tom had agreed with them, though convincing Sierra of the issue was another matter entirely. He was glad he could finally stop ordering them to find leads that didn't exist for a case that had gone cold weeks ago.
Pulling the car up to the garage, Tom noticed Kevin working in the vegetable patch off to the side of the front yard. The garden wasn't large, only ten by twenty feet, and currently sat empty beyond the compost they routinely dumped there. Tom had been intending to begin planting vegetables at the beginning of June, which had been subsequently pushed to July, and then put off indefinitely when the Blossom case consumed all of his time.
Climbing out of his truck, Tom ambled over to where Kevin was sliding a tall shovel into the dirt and churning up the soil, loosening the ground in preparation for planting.
"You've been out here a while," he said, observing his son. Kevin's shirt was spotted with sweat and smudged with dirt. The cuffs of his jeans were caked with dirt.
"I wanted to make this spot ready for planting something," Kevin replied, pausing in his work to speak with Tom. He gave a quick shrug. "I know you haven't had a lot of time for this type of stuff recently. I thought I'd give you a hand with it."
Tom nodded. "Thanks, son. I appreciate it."
"Dinner's in the fridge. I wasn't sure when you were going to get home," Kevin told him, but Tom noticed that his voice was a trace off, his tone at once too hurried and too casual.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Something wrong, Kev?"
"Nothing we won't argue about," Kevin returned frankly. "You really should be discussing this case with someone, Dad."
"I discuss it plenty at work," Tom replied, struggling to keep the edge out of his voice.
"I mean with someone outside of the police force," Kevin clarified.
Tom closed his eyes momentarily. "Kevin, listen to me. It would not be appropriate to discuss this case with anyone who does not have a professional involvement. And it would certainly not be appropriate for me to come home and unload all of my troubles and worries onto my teenage child. You're not meant to hear any of that."
"Dad, this case is just making you so unhappy," Kevin said concernedly. "I don't like how it's changing you."
Tom bit back a sigh. "It's an emotionally charged topic, son. But it's not something for you to worry about, understand?"
It was a useless point to push, Tom knew. Simply telling Kevin to stop worrying would not at all stop him from worrying. But after a stress-filled day of handling endless questions, he did not want to go back to his house and answer even more questions. In all honesty, while Tom appreciated Kevin's concern, he would be quite happy if he stopped raising the subject at all.
"I understand," Kevin replied, even as apparent unhappiness shone in his eyes.
"Good," Tom said with a nod. He turned toward the house. "I'm going to grab something to eat. Did you already have dinner?"
"Yep," Kevin said, returning to his gardening.
But he hadn't already eaten, Tom discovered. There was no plate or silverware in the sink, and the dishwasher was completely empty beyond the morning coffee mugs.
He all but dragged Kevin away from the garden to make him sit down at the table. They ate dinner together without any conversation, and while Tom knew it was an indication of the rising tension between himself and his son, he couldn't help but be at least partially grateful to finally have a period of silence in his day.