"Did you know the victim, what was his name? Jessie Forrester?" asked Robin. Three and a half hours of standing in the sun hadn't deflated her appearance. She still looked like she had when she'd walked into Elle's office earlier that morning. Crisp and professional.

Elle shrugged. "Turlough's a small place." Shadows from the hanging canopy danced up the hood of the cruiser and over the windshield as she meandered, slow and deliberate, through the back roads.

"Is that a yes?" While Robin's appearance might have looked neat on the outside, her insides were anything but. She'd spent her morning fantasizing about chaining Elle to a tree. In the middle of the desert. In another, she'd dragged her out to a set of tracks surrounded by scrub grass and tumble weeds, and lassoed her to the rail. Only once had she let it get out of hand. She wasn't sure why she was forming her revenge in western motif, but it was working for her.

Every time she'd managed to get Elle's attention she'd wave her off as if she were dismissing an annoying fly buzzing around her head. Robin hated to admit how much that had gotten under her skin. She wasn't used to being ignored.

"We went to the same high school. He was a year ahead."

Robin shifted in her seat to face Elle straight on. "Are you being vague on purpose?" The seatbelt strained against her breasts. "I've spent the better part of my day chained up like a punished dog. I'm exhausted, pissed off, and sweaty." She brushed her bangs off her face, but it did nothing to make her look more disheveled. "I don't appreciate vague."

"Can you stop talking for one minute, please?" Most of Elle's hair had escaped its bun in the last few hours, choosing instead to blow free in the wind like flames licking at her face. "I need to think what to say to Jessie's parents." Her hands tightened on the wheel as she said his name.

Robin turned back around, arms folded, lip jutting out. She felt like a pouting child, but she couldn't help it. Elle was turning out to be nothing like she'd expected. When she arrived, she expected to be in and out. Complete the assignment and leave almost as soon as she'd arrived.

Robin hadn't spent much of her life outside of the city and she preferred it that way. She could navigate in the city. She knew what people expected of her and she of them. Things were simpler. Here, nothing made sense. She'd expected the local law to be a pushover. To give her what she wanted so she could get the hell out of there. She'd also expected the local law to be the female version of Barney Fife. But Sheriff Ashley was proving a different beast.

She turned her attention to the passing sights hoping to calm down before she lost her temper and ruined any chance of completing this job. They passed a shack squeezed between two giant trees. A child ran out. The screen door smacked the frame with a loud crack. She couldn't believe people actually lived there. The yard housed several cars in sundry forms of decay. From the mirror, Robin watched the child chase the cruiser down the road. A big grin on his face, and part of his lunch smeared along one cheek.

In big cities, urban poverty looked different than rural. What was it about giving humans space that allowed them to fill it up with junk? Was this a North American thing or a universally human trait. If she travelled to Germany would she find the transportation history of a family displayed on their front lawn the same way the rich hung expensive pieces of art around their homes?

Was everyone in Turlough this poor or just the unlucky few? Did Elle have vehicle carcasses ornamenting her front yard? Or did she live in a small apartment above the sheriff's office? Then Robin remembered Elle's brother and wondered if she still lived at home.

She didn't ask any of these questions. Instead, she sank lower in her seat trying to get a feel for this town and its people. If she was going to make any progress, she would need to.

Elle pulled to a stop in a front circular drive. Reluctant to turn off the engine. Willing her brain to come up with a script for how this should go.

Ten years had passed since Elle had spoken with Jessie's parents. Janice and Chuck Forrester faded into the backdrop like white noise. They rarely ventured into town, choosing instead to inhabit a world of two.

Robin whistled. "Nice place."

Their quaint colonial tucked itself into the forest, masked from the main road by large oaks and maples. The diligence of upkeep was plain, even from a distance.

At the sound of the engine, a woman in her early sixties straightened. A floral scarf hid her hair from view, dirt encrusted gloves did the same for her hands. She removed and tossed them onto a pile of gardening tools.

At first curious, seeing Elle, her face transformed into pleasure.

"Oh, God." It was only a whisper, but Robin heard it and turned to Elle. She was clutching the worn steering wheel, her face as pale as the white cruiser. Seeing Robin watching her, she straightened. Before getting out she said, "Do I need to pull the handcuffs out again?"

"No. I'll sit here, like a good little doggy." She gave her a lopsided grin to show there were no hard feelings. Robin didn't envy her this task. She'd wondered, on occasion what it would be like to receive news that a loved one had died. Both her parents were still alive, living comfortably in a two story in Evanston. But she'd encountered enough death in her job to see the toll it took on someone.

"This shouldn't take very long," Elle said, corralling strayed hair back into its bun.

As Elle approached the woman her frame was stiff like her side-handle baton, which was currently propping up her kitchen window. And like that window, she was stuck halfway between her past and present. Unsure if she should be the warm teenager who had dated their son or the stoic sheriff of Flynn County.

"Elle, what a pleasure to see you, what brings you out this way?" There was a genuine smile of affection on the woman's face as she took Elle into a warm embrace. "It's been too long." She paused to consider. "It must be well over ten years since you've been here."

"Around that, Mrs. Forrester." Elle took a measured step back, distancing herself from the older woman.

"How many times have I told you to call me Janice?" she said, eyeing Elle's sheriff uniform which was now in its second day of wear. As much as she'd tried to fortify the creases in her trousers, the constant bending, sleeping, sitting and humidity had deflated them.

"About a million. Is Mr. Forrester around? I'd like to speak with you both."

"Of course, he's in back fiddling with the pool heater. It's been on the fritz lately." Janice motioned toward Robin. "What about your friend? Would she like to come in?"

Robin perked up at this. The promise of a front row seat more than enough to make up for her less than stellar morning. But she too was deflated when Elle shook her head.

"No," Elle said. Her abrupt tone put Janice on alert. She softened her voice. "This isn't a social call, Mrs. Forrester."

"What is it?"

"Let's go inside." Elle guided Janice into the house with a soft hand to the back of the older woman's arm. She wasn't exactly gripping it, just nudging her in the right direction. A good excuse to escape the heat, and Robin's eavesdropping.

"Would you care for something to drink?" Janice asked as she led Elle into the living room. Fans buzzed overhead, dispersing the unexpected late spring heat.

"No thank-you." Elle cringed at the procedural tone her voice had taken on.

The interior matched the outside's meticulousness. It was neat but lived in. The furniture was well maintained, but with the hint of favourite spots that had worn grooves into the cushions over the years.

"I'll grab Chuck then. Make yourself comfortable."

Elle skirted the overstuffed couch, choosing instead to stand. Comfortable was out of the question. The room was dotted with pictures. They covered every surface, not just the walls. A timeline of their family. At one time, Elle was a prominent feature in many of them, as if already part of the family. The room had since been wiped of Elle. Replaced by Jessie's wife and the past seven years of their life together. She had been reduced to a single picture. In it, she and Jessie mugged for the camera. She had taken the blue sash from her dress and wrapped it around his neck as if to strangle him. Their faces were suspended in mid laugh, a prom corsage dangling from her bodice.

Elle replaced the picture on a side table as Mrs. Forrester entered carrying a tray with a pitcher of sweet tea and three glasses.

"That was such a great picture of you two. I hated to get rid of the rest but...well you know. I guess it wouldn't have been appropriate with Cindy here and everything," she said, setting down the tray on the coffee table. Her opinion of her son's choice in wives surfacing like the lemons floating in the jug.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Mrs. Forrester."

She waved Elle off. "I know, but it's such a hot day out, and you look like you could use a little pick-me-up."

Self-conscious, Elle surveyed her appearance deciding she should have showered. At the very least, she should have changed before coming. But with Robin in the cruiser the last thing she wanted was to pull up in her driveway. The idea of her invading so much of her personal life was mortifying.

"Ah, there she is! The impressive sheriff of Flynn County," said Chuck Forrester as he burst into the room. His old khaki shorts were covered in grime, his greying hair tucked under a Cubs hat. "We voted for you, you know." He grabbed her in a bear hug, forgetting the filth on his shorts.

"I got your bouquet. It was very thoughtful. Thank-you." She was relieved his booming laugh had masked the tremble in her voice. She had almost forgotten how easy it was to be around Jessie's parents.

Elle spent more time here during high school than at her own house. At the time, oblivious to how few years she had left with her parents. It was a safe haven. Free from judgment and punishment, now, she felt guilt. It clung to her like wet clothes, dragging her down at each step.

"So polite now. Where's the rowdy girl we remember cannonballing into our pool?"

Janice handed Elle a glass of sweet tea. "Leave the girl alone. She's here on official business. She has to be professional." Her smile was that of a proud parent.

Chuck and Janice Forrester embodied their surroundings the way a pond embodies water. The dirt from their earlier activities was only surface deep. Beneath Janice's and Chuck's faded and worn clothing was the same understated elegance of the house.

Elle sunk into the couch, feeling the cushions envelop her, clinging to her thighs, cool against the fabric of her uniform. She took a sip of sweet tea. Her face puckered.

"Not sweet enough?" asked Janice. "I forgot, you like lots of sugar."

"It's fine." And she took another sip before placing it on the coffee table. Her hands regretted it immediately. Now they had nothing to do but twist themselves into knots on her lap. "The reason I'm here." And she stopped. Gazing into the serene and curious faces of Jessie's parents, like glossy eight by tens come to life. She lost her nerve. This was the last time they would ever be happy. Sitting here together on their couch. The clear glee at seeing their son's ex. Refreshed from an afternoon of being productive. And she would be the one to shatter it.

"What is it? Has something happened to EJ?"

Being back in this house a million thoughts came to mind. Had Buck, the evil cat that stalked Elle her entire junior year, finally died? And if so, had they buried it in the backyard next to the tulip garden? She still had a scar on the back of her thigh from its claws. What happened to the blue couch, velvet to the touch, the one she'd given her first hand job on? Did they know that while they'd been at a PTA meeting her and Jessie had been here siphoning from their liquor cabinet? Going a little further than she'd felt comfortable with at the time. Was the screen on Jessie's window still loose? Could it still be popped from the outside with a well-placed key? Did any of that matter now that she was the only person left to remember them?

She decided to treat it like any accident. "This morning I was called out to the old Maverty house for a noise complaint."

Chuck actually laughed at the mention of the house. "Are kids still using it as a club house? I remember you and Jessie used to get into a fair amount of trouble in that place." Elle hoped to god he wasn't aware of even half the trouble they'd gotten up to in that house.

Janice shook her head, the knot in her scarf coming loose. Almost as an after thought, she slipped it off and folded it, smoothing the fabric onto her lap. "I don't know why they haven't torn that place down yet."

"The historical society declared it a landmark building last year."

Janice turned to her husband, shocked, almost like it had been his choice and not the society's. "I don't know why? That place is a fire hazard if anything." She shook her head, harder this time. "What a silly sentimental thing to do. Some child is going to hurt themselves there and then they'll be sorry." She looked to Elle. "Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you barricade the place?"

Elle shrugged helplessly. "They would just tear them down." She remembered the lengths to which the sheriff's department had gone to back in her day to keep Jessie's crew out. Even going so far as to board up every window and door. It didn't matter though, they always found a way back in. Eventually, Sheriff Bailey realized the futility of it. When Elle took over she did little more than keep an eye on the place, just to make sure the kids didn't go too far.

Chuck patted his wife's knee. "Elle came to tell us something. Let her tell us."

Elle smiled weakly. With her heart pounding against her sternum, she proceeded to tell the Forresters that their only child had been found murdered in the old Maverty house. Instead of that happy, carefree girl who used to date their son, the Forresters would always remember Elle in this moment. She would forever be the one who shattered their ideal existence. It was this that paralyzed Elle. Scared her more than anything. She'd spent the last ten years since she'd come back constructing this professional exterior. Giving the people of Turlough someone they could rely on and respect. In order to do that she'd wrapped her past up, like a package, in its entirety and left it there, where it belonged, in the past. Now it was like she was taking the package out and leaving it to tarnish in the sun.

And as she finished, her heart in her throat, she didn't get the reaction she expected. There was no crying. No screaming. In fact, there was no sound coming from the Forresters at all. They stared in polite silence at Elle as she clung to her knees.

Then Janice laughed. "That's impossible. It can't be Jessie. He called me from Chicago two days ago. We wanted to know if he would be down for the festival, but he said Cindy and he couldn't make it. They never do, but I always ask. Just in case." She looked at her husband to confirm this.

"I wish it weren't true. But it is. I found his body this morning."

"No. You're mistaken," said Janice, shaking her head from side to side. But each sway left a small chink in her composure. Elle moved to kneel beside her, taking her hands. Cupping them.

Janice recoiled at her touch. "Get out!"

Her yell was so unexpected, so charged with hatred, Elle fell backward onto the carpet. Janice reared, towering over Elle.

"How dare you. How dare you tell such lies. Get out of here!" Her face contorted in anguish. A sob bubbled out.

Chuck pulled his wife into an embrace. Enfolding her in his arms. "You better leave, Elle."

She was being pulled in. Again. Case had warned her about this. Elle dragged herself up to full height with support from the coffee table. She blinked a few times hoping to erase the sight of the Forresters huddled together for support. "I'll be back tomorrow to ask you some questions. In the meantime, you know where to reach me if you need anything."

"Don't come back. You're not welcome here," said Janice, her tears in full flow. "Not anymore."

"If you like, you can come into the station, Mrs. Forrester. But I will need to ask you questions about Jessie." Elle moved closer to the door, stepping past the barrier of the living room and front hall. The line of the carpet dividing them. "I'll give you time now." Her voice was subdued but firm.

"What about? About identification?" asked Mr. Forrester.

Elle shook her head. "I knew him well enough to—You won't need to come in for that."

He nodded. But Elle didn't notice. She had turned and walked out of the cool house into the heat of the afternoon. 

*******

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