Missing link
Dillon had just finished a meeting with the county attorney. New laws and revisions to existing laws from the state were being sifted through. He jumped when there came a knock at his office door. He said ‘come in’ a little more grouchy than he had intended to.
Bradley stuck his head through the door, “I can come back.” Moving his head out of sight.
“No,” Dillon sighed. “I’m sorry. Edward just left and my head is spinnin’.”
“Then I should probably come back,” Bradley encouraged, from outside the open door. His stomach was on fire.
“Bradley,” Dillon called to him. As he fully stepped inside the office, Dillon noticed the folder in his hand. “What ja got?”
Bradley was feeling sicker now than he had been. Bile was rising up into his throat and into his mouth. He forced it down, regretting that Patty had been able to find it. He didn’t say a word as he handed the folder over the desk.
Dillon read it. Then read it again. “Did you read this?”
With a dry mouth, he answered, “yes sir.”
Dillon read it again, “I don’t want to know how you got this.” He put the report back in the folder, “yes I do.”
“Patty found the e.r. report. When she found it. That gave me the date,” Bradley hung on the word – date. Finding it hard to move past it. But was finally able to ring out, “once I had that. I was able to find the corresponding police report.”
Dillon wanted to hurt something. Break anything. He wanted to rake all the stuff off of his desk into the floor and stump on it. He wanted to pound his fists through his desk. But what he did was caress the folder. Trailing his hand back and forth over it slowly.
“Boss?” Bradley whispered.
Dillon got up and left Bradley standing there with his heart on his sleeve. ‘God, why did he have to find it?’ He blindly walked outside behind the station. Maybe getting smacked in the face with the cold air would bring him around. Instead; his knees hit the pavement, no longer able to contain the contents of his stomach. A paper towel was draped over his shoulder as Dillon sat close to him, leaning up against the cold brick of the sheriff’s department building. “I’m sorry.” Bradley almost cried.
After several minutes of not hearing anything from Dillon, he turned to look at him. Tears were streaming down his face. Stomach acid was the only thing left for Bradley to throw up. And it was coming out. Bradley smacked his hand down on the pavement to catch himself from falling, plopping his hand down in (now) cold vomit.
Dillon laughed through his tears, “that’s just nasty.”
Bradley gagged while laughing. His laughter turned to muffled sobs. “If it makes you laugh, I’ll do it again.”
Dillon took a deep breath. Letting it out slowly. “This is all my fault.”
That was the kick to the gut Bradley knew was coming. He choked on the words but was able to squeeze them out as he wiped at his hand. “Walk me through how?”
Dillon didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “You read the date on that report. It was one month to the day that she left after dad’s funeral.”
Bradley’s stomach was hurting but more bile was on the rise. Marching like foot soldiers out of his stomach. “How?” Came out as a taunting gag. The silent falling snow sounded like bombs exploding inside his head. Dillon’s words cut like a knife as he spoke.
“She came back here for my dad’s funeral.”
“But we don’t know that had anything to do with it. It could have been an unfortunate coincidence.”
“No,” he sighed. Walking to his truck.
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