And on top of the day he’s had, Sherif Wayne got to end it with a shoplifter at the local book store. Amy, the owner phoned it in, and Marcus Wayne told his deputy he’d swing by on his way home. The trade off was: Deputy Abrahams got to finish the paperwork from the Cruise Whalin case. On top of his little abduction story, they had to type up his statement and slap it in the file before they could hope it would vanish into the world of filing cabinets.
Marcus taps the volume on his CB radio down, rubs his temples with an arm resting against the window ledge, and points his steering wheel toward Chester Street. He waits at the red light for his turn to cross Main Street, across which the Book-Out leans a little ways down the other side of Chester. He stops his truck in one of the diagonal parking spots just off the road out front, pulls himself out stiffly, and swings the door shut behind him.
Amy has been the book shop owner since she moved here twelve years ago and opened it up. Somehow she managed to keep in business just off of the occasional lost tourist and the locals. The book store was basically one large room with shelves lining the four walls and a few standing rows running down the center of the room. A single register held counter beside the door, and a small room in the back hid a stock room that was more of a closet, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen/coat room for the four rotating shop staff. Wooden chairs were crammed wherever they would fit between shelves.
The door dings Sherif Wayne in, and surprises the employee hunched over her cell phone at the register.
She looks up quickly at the door, and is equally surprised to see the sheriff, “Sheriff Wayne, I didn’t know you’d be the one stopping by,” Ricki slides her phone into her back pocket as she climbs off the stool and come around the counter.
“It was on my way home,” he smiles tensely, “you have a shoplifter?” Glancing around the store is empty.
“Oh, yeah. It was Teddy Russell. But his mom actually came by and I think that’s punishment enough. Amy doesn’t want to press charges, she just wanted to scare him. I called in to Ronna, told her we didn’t need anyone to stop by…”
Marcus smiles to himself, “yeah, I must’ve turned down my CB, so she couldn’t get ahold of me.”
Ricki smile at him awkwardly. “Can I offer you anything? We have coffee and tea in the back?”
“No. Thank you.”
She thumbs her back pocket where her phone rests, “Cruise told me he came in to talk to you today.”
“Yeah. He did.”
When she looks him in the eyes the puff red remnants of tears spill into view, “Sheriff. Should…should I be worried about him? I mean the stuff he’s been saying. It—it can’t be true. Right?”
The Sheriff adjusts his belt and pulls keys from his pocket, “The boys a little mixed up right now. Who knows, it could just be a fever or something. Even a dream maybe.”
She looks at him, a small smile attempt in the corner of her mouth.
“I don’t think he means badly. Or that he’s dangerous or anything. Just a little mixed up.”
She nods at him and he turns to the door.
“Sheriff. That’s all right. I mean, aliens. They’re not real. I mean there’s no way…”
Marcus turns back around, his back by the door, “No. There’s no such thing as aliens.”
She nods again at him, “Yeah.” She laughs at herself, “I know. Thank you sheriff.”
Sheriff Wayne pushes through the door, Ricki locking it behind him. She flips the sign in the window over to read Closed and goes to the back to gather her things and leave.
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