A/N: If you make it to the end of this chapter know that most of the groundwork have been laid and Sam makes an appearance in the next chapter. Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing but the mistakes. Thanks again for continuing to read this story.

Nine

Robbery suspect apprehended when Deputy Clarington

entered the building through a barricaded door and yelled, "Marco!"

The suspect quickly responded with, "Polo," and was promptly arrested.

—LIMA CITY POLICE BLOTTER

"You know that she's been doing this for a while now." Mercedes admitted to Hunter.

"Gina? What has she been doing for a while?"

She turned into the Caswell's driveway, sliding in the melting snow as they conquered a steep incline. "She doesn't know that I know, and I can't be one hundred percent certain, but I think she was doing some side jobs for her classmates at the academy."

"Side jobs?"

"I believe she believes that she is a real life Nancy Drew. I shouldn't have bought her all those mystery books with female child detectives, so I blame only myself for this fascination with solving mysteries. I think she was even charging kids at her old school for her services like she was some kind of private detective."

"Really? Do you think that had anything to do with her decision to switch schools?"

"I don't know. I'm waiting for her to just be a teen. To get comfortable here and not worry about a missing friend. Then I'll take her into an interview room and give her the third degree. Hopefully put the fear of the Lord in her brilliant behind."

"That's an interesting plan. Or you could just talk to her over dinner."

"The normal approach? Where's the fun in that?"

They pulled up to the Caswell home for the second time that day just as a text came through from McCarthy. The dogs were on the way.

Two deputies, Jay and McCarthy were there waiting on them.

"You two do a parameter check of the property and the neighborhood," Cedes said when they stepped out. "Canvass the area, but keep it light."

"Got it, boss," McCarthy said.

She studied the front door, a massive oak with decorative figurines. But before they could climb the steps, Deborah Caswell rushed out, her appearance a mess. From her hair to her clothes, she looked like a mother of a missing teen would.

"What happened?" she asked, already breathless when she skidded to a halt in front of them. "Did you find her?"

"Not yet, but I did get a letter from her." Cedes handed Debbie a copy of the letter Ashlyn sent her.

The woman was shivering when she took it.

"Maybe, we should go inside."

But Debbie was already lost in the letter, her expression full of anguish.

"Debbie," Cedes said softly, but Debbie was gone, drowning in a sea of memories and regret as she ran her fingers over her daughter's writing.

"She tried to tell us," she said, her voice cracking. "For years, she tried to tell us, but we didn't take her seriously."

Hunter put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure that's not what happened at all, Mrs. Caswell."

She put one hand over her eyes as tears spilled onto her pale cheeks. "Why didn't we listen to her?"

Hunter gently led her inside the house.

Cedes gave her deputies a nod to get started. They had not even begun canvassing because they were distracted by Mrs. Caswell's grief. And by their expressions, they were just as distraught as she was.

Inside, Hunter led Debbie to a chair and sat her down in the great room before getting her a glass of water. Cedes sat across from her on the sofa, trying to come to terms with the fact that this could all be very real. Ashlyn could very well have prophesied her own abduction. Her own death.

She knew this town was weird, the donuts and June prove that, but come on. Ashlyn wasn't even from Lima Springs. And she just happened to end up in a city teeming with the strange and unexplained?

Despite the fact that most of the stories were just hype, there was always that one percent. Law enforcement has always had an open door to psychics and prophets who have helped closed cases. Most people who claimed to have second sight were phonies. But there was a narrow margin of the unexplained that left her questioning the world she grew up in.

And now this. She just didn't know what to think, and as the new sheriff, that was not a good place to be. She couldn't be who she was when she left Lima Springs. She had the entire county's safety to consider.

Once Debbie had calmed a bit and taken a drink of the water Hunter brought to her, Cedes began questioning her. "Debbie, I need to know everything about Ashlyn's dreams. When did they start?"

"When she was six or seven, I think. She'd had a nightmare like all kids do, but this one changed her." She focused on Cedes as she unburdened herself. "She was never the same after that. She became obsessed with her fifteenth birthday. She's told us since she was a kid she would never become an adult. Never graduate high school. Never even date a boy. We just thought she was being melodramatic. She was very gifted in piano, singing, and acting. We just thought she was a misunderstood theater kid who felt unattractive because she was bigger than most of her classmates." She dropped her face into the wad of tissues in her hands and began to cry again.

"Please start from the beginning, Debbie. What exactly did she tell you that first night? I just need whatever you can remember."

Debbie's story confirmed everything they'd learned from the letter. Unfortunately, that's all it did. She had no other information beyond it. But Cedes still had a thousand unanswered questions.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this earlier when you were at the sheriff's office?"

Debbie guffawed. "Would you have believed me?" Before Cedes could answer, she said, "I wouldn't have. It was my own daughter, and I didn't believe her. Can you imagine growing up like that? With an image of your own death in your head and your parents, the people you are supposed to trust the most, are the last people on earth to believe you?" She broke down, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. "What have my husband and I done?"

Cedes let the sobbing die down before asking her next question. "Debbie, when Ashlyn went missing a few days ago—"

"She was trying to hide out. She thought if she stayed hidden until after her birthday, the threat would pass. But we found her and dragged her back home."

This sent Debbie in a fresh wave of tears, and Cedes turned to Hunter. "Does Doc Remington still make house calls?"

Hunter nodded. "He's mostly retired, but he will take an occasional patient if his arthritis isn't too bad. He has a physician assistant who normally does the house calls now."

"Why don't we see if we can get him here." Hunt took out his phone, but she leaned closer and added, "And tell him to bring Valium."

"Ten four." He left the room to make the call.

Cedes returned her attention to Debbie. "I don't want you to take our asking you about these events as a sign that we believe her dreams were prescient. I need you to be aware of the fact that we must, as law enforcement officers, consider the fact that this is all an elaborate scheme as well." It didn't matter how much Cedes believed the girl; it was her job to follow the evidence. Not just her instinct.

At first, Debbie started to argue with her, but her own guilt stopped her. Cedes could read it on her face.

"Also, just so you know, a wanted fugitive has been spotted in the area. Have you seen anyone hanging about? Perhaps lurking along the tree line?"

Although her eyes were wide with worry, she shook her head. "No. I haven't seen anyone. Do you think—?"

"No. We don't. But we can't rule anything out yet."

She nodded, then her eyes widened. "The diary! She kept a diary. Maybe there's something in there that will help us."

That had been next on Cedes' list. "Do you know where she hid it?"

Without answering, Debbie rushed upstairs, almost stumbling in her enthusiasm. Cedes followed her to make sure she didn't disturb anything.

She lifted a mattress covered in pink and produced a small journal with hearts on it. "She's been keeping a diary since she was a kid and went to her first book fair."

After putting on gloves, Cedes took the diary and placed it inside an evidence bag. "Once it's processed as evidence, I'll go through it. See if there are any clues that weren't in her letter."

"Thank you," Debbie said, "for taking this seriously even if you don't believe it."

"I wouldn't go that far and say that I don't believe. I have to take everything into consideration. And your daughter seems amazing."

"She really is," she said, her eyes tearing up again.

Cedes helped Debbie to the living room to lie down on the sofa in case Ashlyn walked through the front door. She'd seen it a dozen times: Parents keeping a constant vigil on doors or windows overlooking the street, hoping for a glimpse of their child coming home. Debbie's ease would probably be short-lived, however, with all the deputies and now the state K-9 unit coming in, help was on the way and maybe Ashlyn would be found sooner rather than later.

"Remington's on his way," Hunter said. "And he's bringing a sedative."

"Thank you." They walked to the front door. "Mr. Caswell should be here soon. That should also help her. If this is an elaborate hoax, Ashlyn's mom would definitely take home an Oscar."

He opened the door, and they stepped out into a crisp, sunny day. "I agree, but I'm still not swallowing any of this without a serious dose of reservation. I mean, Ashlyn could have staged this whole thing for her parents' sake. To pay them back for not believing her."

"True. And we have to take that into consideration, but there's one more angle we haven't considered yet."

"And that is?"

"A self-fulfilling prophecy."

He bowed his head in thought. "How could this be?"

"She could believe this so blindly," Cedes said, hoping against hope that she would be proved wrong, "that she has somehow caused the events to take place. Somehow provoked her own abduction."

"Do you think she could have, I don't know, convinced someone to take her?"

"It can certainly be done and quite innocently. She could have met someone online, probably a predator, and mentioned her premonition. He could have convinced her to meet up. Told her he'd keep her safe. She might have thought it was a woman or another teen. These men are adept in catfishing unsuspecting teen girls and even convincing them to run away with them."

"Abrams is working on her digital footprint and has her laptop. Maybe something will come up. But what about the fugitive?"

"Yeah, I need to look into that more. If Martinez is in the area and is in hiding—"

"He could have convinced her to help him."

"Exactly." Cedes filled her lungs. "And again, there is always the possibility that she is hiding like before, hoping to ride all of this out. For now, this is still a missing person's case, and until we hear otherwise, we need to treat it as such."

He nodded. "What should we do next?"

"Let's take a look around, see if Jay and McCarthy have found anything."

"It'll be hard with this fresh snow."

"Where is an expert tracker when you need one?"

Hunter smirked at her. Rumor was Sam Menkins was the best tracker in the state thanks to spending his summers with his biological great grandfather, a native from the Shasta Tribe. His biological father was rumored to be Dwight Evans, a man of mostly Irish and some Native descent, but there was little information about his father. There was a lot of information on his supposed great grandfather who was of fully Shasta descent and had remained in the area. Because of his adeptness in tracking, Sam had been recruited several times to help find lost hikers in the mountains and the forests.

Once the K-9 unit arrived, which included a cute Officer Saunders and an even cuter—and quite a bit furrier—doggy partner, the deputies' investigation had to be suspended. They'd found no footprints, but that wasn't surprising considering the recent snow.

Cedes and Hunter looked on as the state police's K-9 unit did their thing. Admittedly, it took everything in her not to pet the gorgeous golden Labrador Retriever. How did K-9 cops do it? How could they keep a professional relationship with their fellow officers when all she wanted to do was roll around on the ground and cuddle with them?

One of the mysteries of life, she supposed.

"What are you thinking?" Cedes asked Hunter as they followed the K-9 unit, searching the grounds for anything out of the ordinary.

When he spoke, his breath fogged in the air. "That I'm cold. And hungry. And that I'm in the wrong business. I need to join the K-9 unit."

"Right? I'd be horrible, though. I'd call my partner Goldilocks and let her sleep with me."

"Sheriff?" the officer called out.

They hurried through the snow to where Officer Thor was sniffing the ground excitedly. "Did you find something?"

"Not sure." He called the dog back and let Cedes poke around.

"Here," Hunter said, brushing snow away with a gloved hand. He lifted a pink button off the ground. It had a tiny blue flower painted on it with brown flecks.

"Is this what he detected?" Cedes asked the officer, but he needn't have answered. The dog barked when Hunter held it out.

"There might be blood on it," he explained. "Thor is a cadaver dog."

Hunter dropped the button into an evidence bag, and they combed the entire area more thoroughly, but Officer Thor found nothing else of interest. To him, anyway. Cedes found a receipt under a tree a few yards from the house. Thanks to the cover of trees, the ground beneath it was wet but snowless, and the receipt sat under a clump of leaves.

But it was recent enough that the ink hadn't faded completely despite the weather conditions. It was a receipt from the Quick-Mart convenience store for an energy drink, paid for with cash, and while the date had faded, the receipt number hadn't. She hoped the store could look up the transaction based on that number and give her an exact date and time.

Cedes sealed it in a bag and went inside to speak with Debbie before they left.

The doctor was checking her vitals.

"Is she okay, Doc?" Cedes asked.

He glanced at her in surprise. "Well I'll be if this isn't Mercedes Jones."

She smiled. "It's Mercedes Porter now."

"Oh yes, that's right. You're our new sheriff." He finished checking Debbie's blood pressure. "Congratulations."

Rod Remington had been her doctor since she was a kid. She'd loved him ever since she'd caught a raging fever and he'd stayed up with her all night, soaking her in cool washrags. His old age and brash bedside manner did nothing to diminish her adoration of the grumpy doctor.

"Thank you." She said before asking, "How is she doing?"

"She's just fine," Debbie said from behind a wet towel over her face.

"I'm glad to hear it. Can you look at something for me? "Is this Ashlyn's?"

She squinted, then nodded at the object in the evidence bag and sat up straight, hope evident in her expression. "Yes. Where did you find that?"

"What's it from?"

"Oh," she said, rubbing her temples. "I think it was on a backpack she used to carry. It had buttons. You know, decorative. But she hasn't carried that backpack in, oh gosh, probably a year or more. Do you think she has it with her?"

"I don't know. We found this under a window outside, but on the opposite side of the house from her bedroom." She pointed down a long corridor. "What's at the end of this hall?"

Debbie was having trouble concentrating. Whatever the doctor had given her seemed to be working. "It's, um, the laundry room. That's the only room on that wall with a window. The other door leads to the garage."

Cedes looked at Hunter, but he was already headed that way. She jumped up and followed him.

"Do you think we've been processing the wrong room?" he asked when she caught up to him.

They opened the door to what looked like the aftermath of a tornado.

"Oh hell," he said. He got on his radio and called in a team to process the room as Cedes looked around.

"I don't see any blood," she said, her voice soft with relief.

"It's no wonder Mrs. Caswell didn't hear anything. She was on the opposite side of the house."

Cedes walked carefully to the window, stepping over strewn clothes and towels. "If nothing else, this gives us a strong indication that Ashlyn was taken."

"I agree," Hunter said. "I find it creepy as hell, and it has me questioning everything I've ever known, but I agree."

He was right. The letter—the premonition—was really hard to explain.

When her deputies got back, Cedes sent Jay to question the neighbors. If this guy was staking out the place, one of them may have seen him. Then she set McCarthy to watch the Caswell home.

"You know who could really help with this investigation?" she asked Hunter as they headed back into the house.

"Who's that? We've called in everyone."

"Not everyone. I still haven't seen the hide nor hair of Biff."

"Who?" he asked, beginning the game anew.

She rolled her eyes so far back into her head she almost seized. "Not again."

He cleared the steps to the front door in one giant step. Cedes thought about doing the same, but she didn't feel like falling on her ass just then.

"What again?"

"Hunter Clarington," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

He turned to her, the picture of innocence. "Mercedes Love Jones Porter."

"Where is Undersheriff Bifford McIntosh?"

"Oh, U-S? Why didn't you just ask? He's probably still out on a call." He started inside, but she grabbed his arm.

"There haven't been any calls besides the one we are on."

"Oh, right." He chuckled and started inside again.

"I swear to God, Clarington, if you don't tell me where Biff is—"

"Who?" he asked as he headed for the living room.

Cedes welded her teeth together and drew in a deep, calming breath. She would get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing she did as sheriff of Lima Springs County. Which, if the mayor had her way, just may very well be this case.

After checking with Debbie about the energy drink, a beverage no one in the house drank, Cedes and Hunter headed back to town to grab a bite and check in with the office. The closer they got to town, the louder Hunt's stomach growled.

"Sorry," he said as they pulled into the Lima Bean for coffee and sandwiches.

"I know what I'm having," she said, suddenly hungry despite throwing up earlier.

"I know what you're having, too. You really need to switch it up every so often. Be more adventurous. Like me."

She pursed her lips. "You order the same thing every time we come here. You have since we were in high school."

"You've been gone a long time, baby face."

They stepped inside and were grateful they were placing their orders to go. The crowded room went silent when they walked in, and all eyes landed on the law enforcement officers. Hunter, they were used to seeing. Cedes, not so much.

The pair stepped to the counter to give their order when an older man walked up, took her hand, and slapped her on the shoulder. "Congratulations on the win, Sheriff."

"Thank you," she said, more than a little surprised.

And the floodgates opened. Each patron stood and took a turn to offer her a hardy congrats before sitting down to their food again. Everyone seemed pleased and hopeful with her win. Everyone except the former sheriff, who sat seething in a corner booth.

William Schuester was in his fifties and looked older than that. He still wore his hair in curls and tried to appear half his age. Bad news for him, it only made him look older.

Cedes chose to ignore him and turned back to place her order. But when he stood as well, the room fell silent again.

"Sheriff," he said when he stepped within earshot. He gave her a once-over, his face distorting as though on the verge of laughter.

"Former Sheriff," Cedes said in return.

The reminder wiped the smirk off the man's face. "I'd hate for your win to be called into question like the 2020 presidential election."

"Not as much as I'd hate for all of your former terms served to be called into question, but we all have our burdens to bear."

He bit down, then let the smirk reemerge as he said, "I hear you're having a terrible first day."

"On the contrary. I'm glad I can actually be of use in these types of situations. I'm not sure what you could have done if you were still in office."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Okay, I will," she said, adding a healthy dose of pep.

He gave her one more leisurely appraisal, as though that would unnerve her. After he'd finished, he sauntered, actually sauntered, out the door like the vain peacock he was.

"Hasta la vista," she called after him.

They got to the station just in time to eat one-tenth of their food before a call came in. A very interesting one.

Dani Sonato rushed into her office as they ate, almost bursting at the seams with the news. And yet she said nothing. She waited for Cedes to address her, which took a moment because she'd just taken a huge bite.

"Yes?" she asked after swallowing.

"I don't want to bother you."

Cedes chuckled. "Yes, you do. Go ahead."

"We got a call from Mr. Hummel. You might remember him? He owns the tire store. Anyway, it seems a girl with red braids that nobody in town knew has been seen hanging out with that Menkins boy this summer and over Christmas Break. The one with autism. Steven goes by Stevie."

Cedes knew that Stevie Menkins was Sam's nephew. Though a couple of years older than Gina, he was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome after her baby girl was born. From what Cedes' mother had told her about him, he was fairly high-functioning and Asperger's was no longer given as a diagnosis but just high functioning autism instead. Stevie was fortunate that his symptoms were not severe.

She looked at Hunter, who knew how high the stakes had rocketed without her saying a word. Because there were few things members of the Menkins clan liked less than a law enforcement officer questioning them about one of their own. Unless it was two law enforcement officers. No way was she going out to the Menkins compound without backup.