The Rivers Webb by Jeremy Tyler

to search through…” Nez stopped, looked through the stack again, then turned with a look of horror.
    â€œDetective, we got us a problem.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThere’s a whole section of the Register gone.”
    John took a moment and let a long, aggravated breath out to steady his mood.
    â€œLet me take a wild guess. The section we’re looking for?”
    â€œEverything from 1900 to 1905.”

Chapter 4
    Sheriff’s Deputy Dan Merrill was annoyed. After getting unceremoniously dropped off at the office by Webb, the good deputy did what seemed the logical thing to do: report in to the sheriff. The only problem was, the sheriff was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t at the office, nor was he at the Rivers home when he called there. Similar calls all over town gave him the same result. Sheriff Rivers was completely unaccounted for.
    Which meant he could only be in one place. The one place Dan knew he would not want to be disturbed.
    Sitting at the manual typewriter that Dan insisted on using for his daily reports, he began filling out the details of the day’s events. The sheriff and the other deputy couldn’t understand why he was so adamant about the procedure, and he couldn’t completely blame them, for the most part. There was rarely anything going on in Coweta County worth mentioning from day to day. But the idea of written daily reports had been drilled in to Dan when he was at the Academy, and he had never gotten out of the habit.
    Usually, Dan found the exercise to be relaxing. It was a way to completely close the book on the day. This time, however, his report had the opposite effect. There were too many unanswered questions. In fact, looking over his own recounting, Dan realized that unanswered questions were the only things that had been produced.
    Reverend Rivers, George, the letters at the murder scene, the man in the woods…even John Webb himself. All these things were mysteries with seemingly no answers.
    Actually…
    Dan stopped typing. He could get answers to one of those mysteries, at least. And it wouldn’t take much more effort than a phone call.
    Dan reached for the phone, wondering as he did if he was doing this to further the investigation or to satisfy his own curiosity.
    â€œEdna,” he asked as the operator came on. “Get me an outside line, to the New York City police department…12th precinct.”
    â€œGimme one moment, hon,” came back the cheery voice on the line. “Connectin’.”
    After a moment, the familiar ring sounded, and after just a few moments, a heavily accented New York woman answered on the other end.
    â€œ12th Precinct.”
    â€œOfficer Elijah Morton, please.”
    â€œOne moment. Is he expecting your call?”
    â€œAbout two years now, come to think of it,” Dan said without thinking, then, to recover from his unprofessional response, he said quickly, “Just let him know that Dan Merrill is calling in a favor.”
    There was a pause on the other end while the woman tried to decide whether to bother delivering the message or just hang up.
    â€œHold on,” she finally said. Dan waited for about five minutes while she searched out officer Morton. He could hear the sound of the precinct in the background as he waited. It was such a different kind of police work up there than what he was accustomed to. He wondered how his old friend from the Academy was holding up.
    â€œDan?” came the voice across the line, finally.
    â€œElijah, it’s good to hear your voice.”
    â€œDan Merrill! I thought somebody was playing a joke on me. I haven’t heard from you in ages.”
    â€œI know, I know. Sorry about that. It’s just been really hectic,” he lied. How do you tell someone that you haven’t kept in touch because you were afraid they would think your life was boring in comparison with theirs?
    â€œOh, I’m sure, I’m