She and Matt really didn't have time to delve into a discussion of her revelation because Mr. Tanner appeared and dragged Matt away to the kitchen. Apparently, the man thought his son had spent enough time getting out of the doing the real work, and so she was left to finish her room alone...for all of about five minutes.

Just as she was starting to open up the first box she'd taken from the massive pile, her cell went off. Grabbing it from her back pocket, she saw that it was a text from her mother, summoning her down to the kitchen.

It stung, but she was swept with dread at the thought of facing Ella and Frank.  

 All the same, she dropped what she was doing and exited her room, wending her way through the house and toward the kitchen, all the while hoping that her parents weren't wanting to continue their conversation regarding the previous night. She was kind of through talking about it.

However, entering into the kitchen, she saw that it did, indeed, have something to do with the previous night. And that something came in the form of Julian Donovan, who was sitting at the table with Ella.

Finding the man in her house sent a jolt straight through her.  Firstly, because he was really good looking, sitting there in his faded jeans and that danged fisherman's sweater that seemed to be just another thing that was haunting her, his hair all tousled, his stubbled jaw all chiseled, and his grey eyes all hard and unreadable. And secondly, because he was just...sitting in her kitchen, like everything was perfectly fine, normal even.

"Hey, Clydie," Ella greeted with a wide grin. "You have a visitor!"

"Good mornin', Clydie. You're looking...much better today," Julian said, his gaze moving up and down her in a way that brought a surge of heat up into her cheeks.

Of course she looked better this morning. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been a weeping, puffy eyed, practically fractured basket case. Anything would look better compared to that. Even her, standing there in a pair of baggy old jeans, a tee shirt with bleach spots, and her dad's natty old flannel, with her hair pulled back in one of those plastic claw things her mom always had around.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him, not sure whether or not she should be standoff-ish with the man.

"This handsome thing has come by to offer an extra set off hands! Isn't that nice?" Ella beamed.

A rather harsh, grating sound from across the room caught Clydie's attention and she glanced in that direction, finding Matt and his father both on step ladders in the far corner, busily scraping away at the layers of wallpaper. Frank was standing in the floor between them, scraping from that angle. Neither of the three men seemed to be paying much attention to what was happening at the kitchen table, but she had a sneaking suspicion that sound had been Matt, subtly voicing his displeasure with Ella's statement.

Clydie looked back to Julian Donovan, still trying to decide how rude she should be. He had been nothing but kind and helpful the night before...and she had all but dragged him into her life by pounding on his door...but, she still hadn't expected him to show up at her house. Again.

"Don't you have a job?" she asked, feeling the question was a valid one.

Julian didn't seem offended. "I work from home, so my time is my own."

"Remember, I told you that Julian works in IT? Just like your father," Ella announced, shooting Frank a look. "Isn't that a coincidence?"

Frank let out a gruff grunt, keeping his focus on scratching at the wallpaper. Clydie was actually surprised that Ella had allowed him to do even that much, knowing the odds were leaning toward the man having to make an unexpected ER visit.

"I think Julian can be put to some use," Ella went on, ignoring her husband's lack of enthusiasm. "Free labor is something no fool should ever turn down."

"Just tell me where you want me and I'll roll up my sleeves and dive in," Julian stated, smiling at the woman.

She understood why her mother was so happy to have Julian Donovan around, but it did make her feel a bit...foisted upon.

"Well, I think the kitchen is pretty well covered, so the next most important project is to start cleaning out some of the other rooms down here. We can't do much of anything until all the junk is thrown out," Ella stated.

"Just tell me what to toss and where to toss it and I'll get to it," said Julian.

"I'm going to haul anything that I want trashed out to the side of the house and pile it there until the dumpster gets delivered in a few days," Ella explained, picking up the coffee cup in front of her and taking a sip of the steaming liquid. "So, I suppose you and I can start in one of the front rooms, Julian. We can work our way out from there?"

"I'm all yours," grinned Julian, reaching for the mug that Clydie suddenly realized was sitting in front of him.

With no way to warn Julian, she could only watch as he brought the mug up to this mouth and took a rather large sip...instantly going stiff, his eyes widening and a fair amount of shock washing over his features. Instantly, she could tell that he was on the verge of spitting the coffee back into his cup, but then he cast a quick glance toward Ella, who was obviously blissfully ignorant as she sipped away at her own cup. In that moment, she saw the dread course over him in a visible wave...and he somehow knew he had to swallow or risk hurting the woman's feelings.

She did feel a tiny stab of guilt over it, but she was swept with a slight sense of satisfaction, looking on as Julian braced himself and choked down what she knew was a thick, bitter liquid with the after taste of either burned car tires or dish soap that had somehow gone rancid. Once he'd finally swallowed the stuff, he tried his best to suppress a shiver, only half managing it, and then tried to force a smile, but with his eyes bulging, it came off looking more like he was fighting not to vomit up the hot nails he'd just had shoved down his gullet.

"Its good coffee, right? Its a Turkish blend!" Ella revealed, taking another swig.

Julian cleared his throat, and then cleared it again, and then coughed into his fist a couple of times before finally working up an answer. "Its good. Its stiff, though. I wasn't expecting it," he answered, his voice dry and hoarse.

"I like it so strong, it fights back," was Ella's complacent riposte.

"Well, it does that, alright," Julian wheezed, coughing again.

A sudden disgruntled growl erupted and everyone turned in the direction of the sound...which had come from Frank, who appeared to be locked in a heated battle with his scraping tool. The thing was somehow now embedded in the kitchen wall, the handle sticking out at a sharp angle, with Frank tugging and fighting against it in an effort to pull it free. And somehow, the wallpaper in that spot, where he'd been diligently working away, was still on the wall, and looking much better than it had before.

Ella heaved out a heavy sigh and got to her feet, heading over to rescue her husband just as the sound of the doorbell jangled through the house. "Clydie, can you get that? I have to deal with this before your father slices open a vein."

Obeying, Clydie spun around and quickly exited the room, though she was disappointed that she wouldn't get to keep watching Julian trying to act as if he hadn't swallowed his own tongue. Hurrying to the front door, she pulled it open, fully expecting to see a delivery man or another worker there to be interviewed by her mother.  So, when instead she found herself face to face with a man wearing a brown and tan uniform, a weapon holstered at his side, and a large gold badge gleaming on his chest, she flinched from the sheer shock.

"Good morning, Miss. I'm Sheriff Benton, from the Gray's Harbor County Sheriff's Office. I'm here to speak to Clydie Weston," the large man with the grey hair, sharp blue eyes, and lined and weathered face stated, sending a jolt through Clydie that all but jarred her bones.

"I-I'm Clydie," she croaked out, fear zipping along her limbs as her mind grasped for reasons as to why the man would need to speak with her...and the only thing she could come up with was the fact that she'd been drinking the night before.

Oh shit. She was a walking dead woman. Ella Weston was going to skin her alive and then swallow her whole, bones and all.

"Can I come in? I have a few questions for you," the man said, sounding incredibly official.

For a moment, she froze solid, unsure if she should allow him inside or if she was supposed to ask to see a warrant. Although, she was pretty sure that a warrant was for searching the property, not for questioning someone?

As the seconds ticked by, she began to feel as if keeping the man standing in the doorway for too long might make her look guilty of...something...so she abruptly decided to move back and let him enter. And as he stepped over the threshold and into the house, he seemed to instantly take up most of the space, making it very difficult to breathe.

"Is there a place to sit while we talk?" Sheriff Benton asked, glancing around at the jumble of boxes crammed into the foyer.

There probably wasn't a place to sit in the entire house other than the kitchen, which happened to be filled with people just then. "Uh, we can go into the parlor, maybe?" she suggested, thinking they could sit on the gross old sofa in there, as soon as she cleaned some of the boxes off of it.

"Clydie? Who's at the door?" her mother called out, appearing in the foyer and letting out a little gasp as she saw the sheriff standing there. "Oh! Can I help you, Officer?"

"Its Sheriff, actually. Sheriff Benton," the man corrected. "Are you Mrs. Weston?"

"I am," Ella replied, coming to stand by Clydie.

Welp, she was a goner. She was going to be drawn and quartered and then scattered across the harbour like so much chum.

"I came by to ask your daughter a few questions. Is there a place where we can talk?" the sheriff wondered.

Ella shot a confused glance at Clydie. "We can go into the kitchen. Its the only usable room in the house right now."

Ella took Clydie by the arm and began leading her back toward the kitchen, leaving the sheriff to follow along behind them. With her heart thudding in her throat, she found herself really hoping her parents wouldn't actually end her because she'd taken a sip of alcohol...at least, not in a room filled with witnesses. She also hoped that the sheriff didn't get too upset when she refused to divulge the name of the person who'd given the alcohol to her because, that person was his son. Well, unless Cedar Cove had more than one sheriff?

As they walked into the kitchen, all eyes turned toward them, four sets of eyebrows raising and a couple of mouths dropping open. There was a heavy pause then, silencing the room for an uncomfortably long time, before the sheriff finally decided to speak.

"Hello, Hank. Matt. You're both hard at work, I see?" the sheriff said, sounding fairly friendly.

"As usual," Mr. Tanner responded. "Do you need some privacy, Ansel?"

The sheriff looked to Clydie, who stiffened, despite herself. Did she want privacy? Matt already knew she'd taken a drink. So did Julian Donovan. And her parents were about to find out, so clearing the room seemed useless.

"Its okay. Everybody can stay," she said, walking toward the table on unsteady legs.

Julian sprang to his feet, motioning for her to take a seat in his chair. His expression wasn't giving anything away, but there was something about his demeanor that made it seem as if he wasn't all that thrilled to see the sheriff.

As she dropped into her seat, Julian placed himself behind her, standing so close to her that she could practically feel the heat emanating from him, then layingdd        his hands on her shoulders in what felt like a rather protective gesture. It felt a little odd, but it didn't seem like an appropriate time to draw attention by telling him to back off just a little.

Frank stepped forward then, coming to stand beside his wife. "What's this about Sheriff? What can we help you with?"

"You're Mr. Weston?" wondered the sheriff.

Frank nodded, putting his arm around Ella's shoulders.

"I came by to ask your daughter some questions about an incident at a bonfire some of the kids put on last night," Sheriff Benton stated, moving across the room and helping himself to a seat at the table.

Clydie cringed. Shit. This was it. She was about to be slaughtered. And all because she'd taken one single sip of alcohol. Really, the punishment did not exactly fit the crime...

"What incident was that?" Ella questioned, confused.

"Well, I'm told that Miss Weston here had a conversation with Katie Hyatt last night. Is that right, Miss Weston?" Sheriff Benton asked and Clydie felt her limbs go numb.

Oh damn. This was about Shep dosing girls' drinks! And she wanted no part of it! She didn't have any first hand knowledge of Shep's criminal activities and she was not about to involve herself! "I-I talked to her for a few minutes," she admitted weakly.

"I was also informed that you spoke with Katie about her sister, Jessica Hyatt, and that you had a piece of personal information about Jessica that led Katie to believe you might know something about Jessica's whereabouts?"

Clydie's mouth gaped open and her stomach all but fell out onto the floor at her feet.  Oh god.  Oh god...

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Frank spoke up when Clydie didn't. "Who is Jessica Hyatt?"

"She's a young girl, a local, who went missing last year," Sheriff Benton answered.

Frank stared at the man for a few beats. "I still don't understand. Why would you think my daughter can tell you anything about a girl who went missing a year ago? My wife, my daughter, and I, only arrived in town yesterday."

Sheriff Benton kept his sharp gaze pinned on Clydie as he responded. "According to Katie, your daughter mentioned something in regards to Jessica that no member of the general public should know. That bit of information was never spoken of by the family, nor was it released in any official police statements."

Shit. She'd asked about the mark on Jessica's arm...and now she was going to prison. She had no idea what had happened to Jessica Hyatt and had never seen the girl in actual life...and she was going to prison.

"Sheriff, what information could my daughter possibly have?" Ella asked, sounding almost...amused. "This makes absolutely no sense, what you're saying."

The sheriff continued to watch Clydie, his eyes boring into hers. "Jessica Hyatt had a cooking accident only a day before she went missing, resulting in a large burn on her arm. That detail was never released in her description and only her family and I knew about it. But, last night, Katie showed your daughter a picture of Jessica, a photo that had been taken before that burn was received, and your daughter specifically asked if Jessica had a mark or a scar on her arm."

Clydie, her gaze locked with the sheriff's, could feel every single pair of eyes in the room turning to her. A feeling of utter doom slammed into her and she sat, frozen solid, unsure of how to react or even if she should react at all...

"Clydie, is that true?" Frank asked, disbelief rife in his tone.

"Unless Katie Hyatt is lying to me, which I highly doubt, then its absolutely true," Sheriff Benton answered for her. "And that's why I'm here. So, Miss Weston, if you have any information that you can share about Jessica Hyatt, I'd appreciate you sharing it with me."

She was going to prison. There was no way in hell she could reasonably explain how she'd known about that mark on Jessica Hyatt's arm. Which meant...she was going to be arrested and sent to prison.

"I'm sure there's some mistake. There's no way Clydie can know anything about that girl!" Ella assured, her tone rather scoffing.

"And yet, you do know something, don't you, Clydie?" the sheriff prompted. "And I'd really like to know what that something is."

A cold wave swept over her. There was no way to get herself out of this...

"Clydie, you don't have to answer if you don't want to," Julian spoke, his tone firm. "Its perfectly alright not to speak if you have nothin' to say."

Sheriff Benton shot Julian a hard look. "Why shouldn't she want to speak? This is just a friendly conversation. There's no need for us to start acting like its anything more."

Julian tightened his hands on Clydie's shoulders. "Sheriff, you just flat out accused Clydie of withholding information regarding a missing person. That doesn't sound very friendly."

Ella made a slight gasping noise. "Sheriff? Are...are you accusing my daughter?"

"Like I said, this is just a friendly chat," the sheriff reiterated. "If Clydie has any helpful information about a girl who's family has been without her for a year, then the right thing to do would be to speak up."

Oh god. He hadn't denied that was being accused of...something...

"If Clydie had any information to put forth, she'd be doing that right now," Julian answered easily.

Actually, she wanted to speak up. She wanted to tell Sheriff Benton that she didn't have the slightest bit of knowledge about Jessica Hyatt or where she might be. But, her voice was failing her because she knew if she denied having any information, she'd have to answer questions about how she'd known the girl had a mark on her arm.

And she simply had no answers to give.

Sheriff Benton continued to focus on Clydie, never taking his piercing gaze off her. "I'm just looking for the truth, Miss Weston. Either you know something about Jessica Hyatt, or you've spoken to someone who knows something. And any answers that you can give me could help me find that girl."

"So, you've already decided that Miss Weston has your answers, based on nothing more than the word of a random girl she met at a party?" asked Julian.

"Katie Hyatt's sister is missing. I have no reason to doubt her word. This isn't a game to her or her family," the sheriff rejoined.

Julian paused for a brief second. "Sheriff, based on how much credibility you seem to be giving the victim's sister, is there really anything Clydie can say to convince you that she doesn't have any information?"

Sheriff Benton pulled in a breath, clearly annoyed, but trying to keep it tamped down. "Miss Weston, even if you don't think you have anything worth mentioning, even the smallest detail could help find Jessica Hyatt. And I'd be grateful for your help. So would her family."

"But, again, your going off the word of a young girl who could have simply heard wrong or misconstrued what Clydie may, or may not, have said," Julian pointed out, sounding very...legal.

"Katie Hyatt wouldn't misconstrue anything where her sister is concerned," the sheriff said through his teeth.

"Oh? Well, did you know that they were drinking last night? A young girl, who's holding out hope of finding her sister, and one who's been drinking, might not remember things exactly the right way. Isn't that possible?" wondered Julian, sounding as if he had the sheriff on the witness stand.

Damn. Julian was trying to help her, but he was only going to wind up getting her dead.

The sheriff's gaze narrowed and he finally glanced at Julian. "Katie didn't mention she'd been drinking."

"Well, they were," Julian stated, as if he knew it as fact. "Miss Weston had a drink or two herself, so how can you, Sheriff, be certain of anything that was, or was not, said?"

Ella gasped and Clydie could feel the wall of disappointment and rage slamming right into her.

"And did the girl, Katie, mention to you that her brother found Miss Weston on the beach and physically attacked her?" continued Julian, eliciting quite a few sounds from the people in the room.

"No. That part was never brought up. How do you know that happened?" the sheriff posed. "Are you taking Miss Weston's word for it?"

"No, actually. The boy chose to attack her right in front of my house. I heard him screaming to high hell and when I went out to see what was going on, he had Clydie on the ground. I had to force him off of her."

"Like I said, that was never mentioned to me," was the sheriff's rather brusque reply. "But, it does give credence to the possibility that Miss Weston said something to Katie Hyatt that was believable enough that she involved her brother. And I'd take it as a personal favor if she would tell me exactly what she told Katie."

Clydie felt another wave of cold sweep over her. Oh god. She couldn't possibly tell him...

"Miss Weston," the sheriff went on, again piercing her with his gaze, "let's be honest here. There's no way you'd know about the burn on Jessica's---"

"Reportedly knew about the burn," Julian cut in, sounding so much like a lawyer that it was...confusing. "Clydie hasn't spoken a word on the matter, remember?"

For a second, it seemed Sheriff Benton was going to get up out of his chair and physically throw himself at Julian. "Fine.  You reportedly knew about the burn. But, you called it a mark or a scar. There's no way, Miss Weston, that you could know that unless you'd seen the girl recently."

"Sheriff, let me help you out here," Ella began, suddenly sounding a bit more in control of the situation. "Not only have we resided in Summerville, West Virginia until yesterday, but my daughter has spent a good portion of the past two years in and out of The Meadows Behavioral Health Care Facility, and in fact, spent the entire three months before our move receiving treatment in the in-patient wing there..."

Clydie felt the blood surge up into her face. Great. Her mother had just outed her as a mental patient. That would strike her right off the suspect list. After all, why would the sheriff suspect a raving lunatic of committing some heinous crime...

And surely, some sort of crime had been committed against Jessica Hyatt, because she...was with Sam.

"...If you need to check specific dates, I can get those for you," Ella went on, business-like now. "And when she wasn't in the hospital, she was at home, with myself and my husband. She did not leave our sight, so I can assure you she had no time to talk to anyone about a girl who went missing hundreds of miles away. She has left the house twice since we arrived in town yesterday, though, both times with Matt Tanner.  And I'd hope he would know who she was or wasn't talking to."

As she finished speaking, Ella shot Matt—who was standing on his step ladder, his scraper frozen in mid-air---a rather hard look, causing him to go a shade paler.

"We-we...I took her to the Scarecrow Festival and she stayed with me the entire time. We only talked to one person there," he nodded toward Julian as he spoke, his voice scratchy and unreliable, which again, should strike her right off the suspect list. "And last night, I was with her the whole time, except for maybe five minutes because I jumped in to break up a fight. And then she said she was going home."

"And I presume that's when I found her on the shore, being physically assaulted by that boy," Julian picked up the story. "And the rest of the night, she was sleeping soundly on my sofa."

Sheriff Benton glanced around the room, his features held taught and a nerve in his jaw working. "Well, I suppose there's nothing more to be said, then."

"And I suppose you won't be back, knocking at the door, unless there's enough probable cause to ask this young lady to accompany you to the sheriff's office?" Julian said, in a conversational sort of way.

The sheriff rose to his feet, hitching up his utility belt, and ignoring Julian's statement. "I'll show myself out, folks," he said, giving Clydie a curt nod.

"Actually, I'm sure Mrs. Weston wouldn't mind showing you out, just to be sure you don't get lost in this big old place." Something in Julian's voice brought Ella forward and she motioned for the sheriff to exit the room ahead of her.

Once the kitchen door closed behind Ella, Clydie allowed her gaze to slide over toward her father, who was standing frozen, his hands fisted at his sides, and his gaze locked on her and she felt, in that moment, that she might be better off if the sheriff had arrested her. It would probably hurt a lot less than what was about to happen to her....