No Show by Simon Wood

entitled.”
    “Yes, but you’ve been with Genavax less than a week.”
    He cut Pamela’s lecture short. “The sheriff called me out to a crime scene last night. They thought they’d found my wife.”
    “And had they?” Her tone softened.
    “No. They found somebody else.”
    Terry heard Pamela inhale to say something, but she didn’t. It was a few seconds before she spoke again. “When you say found, what do you mean?”
    “They found a body,” Terry admitted with a sigh.
    “And it wasn’t your wife?”
    “No.” Images of Alicia Hyams’s mutilated corpse threw themselves at his mind’s eye, her face fish-belly white, except for the black gash across the throat. “It was somebody else.”
    “Was it that woman they found in the lake?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s terrible. I hope you’re okay.”
    Pamela’s sudden show of concern confused Terry. She was so coldhearted before, but now she was the total opposite. He wondered if her hard exterior was all a front to prove her managerial toughness. But something in her manner didn’t ring true. She was trying too hard. He tried to make his excuses, but she was having none of it, continuing to ask question after question.
    “Did she look like your wife?”
    “A bit, I suppose. It was difficult to tell.”
    “But there was a resemblance?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “There had to be or the sheriff wouldn’t have called you out.”
    “You’re probably right.”
    “She had to be a dead ringer for your wife.” Pamela’s statement seemed to be said more to herself than to Terry.
    Terry didn’t know what the hell she was getting at, but he didn’t like it. Her morbid curiosity with Alicia Hyams looking like Sarah bordered on the distasteful. Kyle’s recollection of the fight in the lunchroom between Pamela and Sarah came to mind. His thoughts were leading him to places he didn’t want to visit, and he was thankful when the doorbell rang.
    “I’ve got to go, Pamela. Someone’s at the door.”
    “Okay. Take it easy and we’ll see you tomorrow. Take care, now.”
    Pamela’s concern felt insincere, and he was more than happy to hang up on her.
    He opened the door to stare face to face with Sarah’s likeness, but not Sarah herself. Pressed against the screen door was one of his flyers. It had been ripped off something. There were ragged edges where the corners should have been. Holman was the glue that held the poster in place.
    “Morning, Sheriff.”
    “I keep finding these things everywhere I go. Anything to do with you?” Holman demanded.
    “Come in.”
    Terry stood back to let the sheriff in. Holman crumpled the flyer, shoved it in his jacket pocket, and came inside. Terry couldn’t understand how the sheriff could wear his county-issued windbreaker. It was far too hot. Maybe he was used to the California heat. He wasn’t breaking a sweat. To him, it probably felt chilly. Holman closed the front door, letting the screen door slam.
    “Coffee, Sheriff?”
    “No, thanks,” he growled.
    “Suit yourself.” Terry ignored the sheriff’s hostility and measured out fresh grounds into the coffeemaker. “What can I do for you?”
    “You can stop getting in the way of my job.”
    Terry poured a pot of water into the coffeemaker and switched on the machine to brew. “I didn’t know I was.”
    Holman grunted like an angry bull. He retrieved the crumpled flyer and flattened it out on the breakfast bar. He rapped a finger on Sarah’s reproduced face. “You don’t see anything wrong with this?”
    Terry crossed his arms. “No, not really.”
    “Well, let me set you straight. This is wrong. It gets in the way. It’s a distraction. It doesn’t help me find your wife, Mr. Sheffield.”
    “Well, it helps me. It makes me feel like I’m doing something useful to help find Sarah.”
    “You did something useful. You contacted me. You don’t have to do anything more. That’s what I’m employed to do. All you’ve got to do is sit around and wait