The Jeep rolled slowly along under the canopy of large maple and elm trees that lined the long curving dirt lane. The road they had turned onto was unpaved and uneven so that even driving slowly the two passengers inside the cab were still jostled about.

Andra didn't seem to notice. She was deep in thought watching the rays of sunlight that danced across the interior of the car as the sun peeked through the leaves in broken patches.

She was more anxious than she cared to admit. There were so many questions that needed answers. With Sheriff Ramirez's help, they might be able to solve the mystery of Savannah's death. Without him, Andra feared all they would have was a wild goose chase and a ghost hunt.

Sheriff Ramirez wasn't the only concern weighing on her either. The nightmare that had scared her so badly the night before was still gnawing at the back of her mind. She had spent the better part of the morning trying to understand how she could have dreamt about a dead girl she never met. The only explanation that Andra could come up with was that she must have seen Savannah's picture somewhere without realizing it. Deep down her subconscious just filed it away for later use as part of some stress-induced nightmare. The alternative to this conclusion was just more than her mind was capable of coming to grips with at the moment.

As they came around the next bend in the road, Andra could see where the tree line came to an abrupt stop and opened up into an expertly maintained yard, at the edge of which, sat a white two-story farmhouse. The road they had been on turned into a gravel drive that ended just beside the house.

Cameron parked the car and shut off the engine. The silence was deafening. The sound of the cars from the busy street nearby couldn't seem to pierce the barrier of trees that surrounded the property.

"Are you ready?" Cameron asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Yeah." She nodded, trying to project confidence she didn't feel into her answer. Grabbing her bag from the floorboard and sticking her papers inside, she slipped it over her shoulder and stepped out of the Jeep.

As they walked toward the front of the house, Andra saw that the porch wrapped around to one side. From where she stood, two brown wooden rocking chairs and a white porch swing were visible. There were hedges planted around the front of the house and baskets full of different colored flowers hanging along the outside edge of the porch.

The pathway leading up to the wooden porch steps was filled in with white crushed gravel. Down either side of the little walkway, someone had planted tulips.

Stepping onto the porch, Cameron opened the screen door and knocked loudly on the large red wooden door behind it. Andra remembered vaguely someone, maybe her mother, telling her that a door painted red meant welcome.

Andra found herself hanging back just a little behind Cameron. The butterflies in her stomach felt like large bats with very sharp claws. Taking a deep breath Andra tried to steady herself. She wanted so badly to make a good impression today.

From inside the house, they heard movement and then the sound of approaching footsteps. The door swung slowly open and there standing in front of them was an older man in light wash jeans and a white polo shirt.

The white material looked vibrant against the background of his olive complexion. He was lean and although not muscular it was apparent he had stayed in shape since retiring from the force. Andra was hard-pressed to imagine him as anyone's grandfather. His age was only betrayed by the strands of grey that ran through his thick black hair and the small laugh lines at the corners of his dark eyes. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Hi," Cameron said, extending a hand. "My name is Cameron Davies and this is my friend, Andra Morris. Mark sent us out to talk to you."

"Of course." the man replied as he shook Cameron's hand. "It's very nice to meet you. My name is Conrad. Conrad Ramirez. Come in, come in." He said, stepping back and gesturing for them to enter.

The house felt cheery and inviting. The walls were painted a bright yellow that reminded Andra of the daffodils her mother used to plant in the flower beds of their old house. Mocha-colored hardwood floors ran throughout and pink roses decorated the small white table that sat against the wall in the entryway.

Sheriff Ramirez closed the door and walked past them, gesturing for the two teenagers to follow. "Right this way." He said, leading them out of the entryway and into a living area located just to the right of the main entrance.

In the center of the room sat a large, dark-colored, wooden coffee table. Across from it was a gray sofa and on the other side of the room sat two gray recliners. The far wall was made up of a large rock fireplace and, just above it, a flat-screen tv.

"Have a seat." He said, gesturing towards the sofa. "I was just making myself some iced tea. Would you like some?"

"Yes, thank you," Cameron answered.

"I'll be right back." He said already exiting the room.

"Are you ok? You look a little pale." Cameron asked as they sat down together. He was studying her face closely.

"I'm fine." She answered. "Just a little nervous."

She sat on the edge of the sofa quietly, taking in her surroundings as she laid her bag down on the floor at her feet.

Pictures of all shapes and sizes had been scattered along the walls of the cozy room. Some of them featured Sheriff Ramirez standing next to a striking woman with dark hair. In one picture, he was shaking the hand of a robust man in a blue suit with thinning hair and a rather large potbelly. They stared happily into the camera holding some type of award between them. Among these were scattered photos of what Andra assumed must be the Sheriff's family. Pictures of young children around a Christmas tree and teenagers in a backyard pool. Memories from a life well-lived.

Rising from the couch, she went to take a closer look at the picture of the sheriff and the man shaking hands. The inscription on the plaque read, "In recognition of Conrad Ramirez for his courageous and life-saving actions."

Moving on to the next picture, she saw that it was a photo of a younger Sheriff Ramirez, his arms around the same beautiful woman. She wore a form-fitting floral dress that struck her mid-shin and showcased her statuesque figure. She was leaning against him, one hand on his chest, her head thrown back in laughter, her dark hair cascading down her back to her waist. She looked happy and in love.

"That is my Angelina." He said, entering the room with a tray of glasses. "She was a brilliant pediatrician. We lost her to cancer almost twenty years ago now."

"I'm so sorry," Andra said sincerely returning to her seat beside Cameron. "She was very beautiful."

"That she was. Her spirit was beautiful also. She dedicated her life to helping others." He said, gazing lovingly at the photo before handing out their drinks and taking a seat across from them in the recliner.

He leaned forward elbows on his knees clasping his drink in both hands. At that moment, Andra had no trouble picturing him in an interview room somewhere, talking to informants and grilling suspects.

"So, my grandson tells me that you're interested in the Savannah Miles case." He said before he took a sip of his drink.

Andra and Cameron looked at each other and Cameron gave her a nod of encouragement. "Yes, Sheriff Ramirez, there are a few things we were curious about?"

He had a soft way of speaking that immediately put her at ease. His smile was open and friendly and she felt some of her nervousness begin to fade.

"Just call me Conrad," He said. "All my friends do. No need for formal titles. I've been retired for years now. Before we start though I'd like to know, why is it exactly that you're interested in this particular case?"

Andra froze for a moment. Her first reaction was to come up with a cover story, but she had a hunch that a man like Conrad would not let that slide so easily.

"Savannah's story has become nothing short of a legend in Inglewood. Not only are they curious about the events surrounding her death but some are even convinced that she resides there still. Cameron told me what he knew about her death and I've become very interested in not only the ghost stories but also the actual police investigation. I host a series of Youtube videos surrounding paranormal experiences and I would love to use Savannah's story as one of my features.

I've found though after researching her story that the facts and the rumors don't match up and there are a lot of things that just don't make sense. We thought maybe you could help us fill in the blanks. I need to know what happened to her."

He nodded slowly smiling. " Ah yes Ms. Morris and we come to the truth of the thing. You'll learn soon enough that very seldom do fact and legend ever reside in the same house. That being said were you aware that this case almost destroyed my marriage?" a note of tension creeping into his voice as he spoke.

"We didn't know," Cameron said, glancing at Andra. "Mark said it was the reason that you retired, but that's all."

"Yes, Mark is right. It was the reason I left." He answered. "It consumed me until I could think of nothing else. My wife was angry and scared. She had never liked Inglewood. She said that it was a bad place and that I had become obsessed. She and the children were leaving with or without me. What was I supposed to do?" He asked, giving them a look that begged for understanding.

"I didn't want to leave." He said, looking at Andra. "But I couldn't stand the thought of losing my wife and kids. They were everything to me." He wiped his hands on his pants legs before standing.

"That girl was murdered. I would swear to it. But I just never had the proof. I'll help you with whatever you need if there's any chance at all that it will put a spotlight back on her case."

"I think it will," Andra said confidently. "I have thousands of followers and if they know what we're planning, it should get a lot of people interested. I think we can get those people asking questions too."

"That's what I'm hoping." He told her. "But I'll be honest with you two. I'm not thrilled with the idea of you turning this into some gigantic ghost hunt. If this will get her case back out to the public, then I'm willing to try but it in no way means that I agree with your methods. This is a means to an end. You get what you want and, hopefully, I get a chance to ease my conscience."

Andra nodded in understanding as Conrad walked slowly across the room to the large stone fireplace. Putting a hand on the mantle, he turned back to face them.

"So, before we start," he said, "please tell me what you know already."

Andra pulled the file folder from her bag. She quickly recapped for Conrad everything she had already told Cameron. She handed him the pictures she had pulled from the online yearbooks and the newspapers as she talked. When she was done, she sat quietly, watching him, waiting for his reaction as he paced slowly back and forth studying the photos she had given him.

Coming to the last picture, he looked around at her impressed. "You really should consider a career as a detective. We could have used someone like you on the case back when this happened." He said as he motioned toward the photos he held in his hand. "This is good."

"Thank you." She answered, genuinely flattered. "I do care about what happened to her."

He nodded. "I can see that you do. This case has haunted me for a very long time and her story is not an easy one to tell."

"It's ok," Andra assured him. "Just start at the beginning."