The collective nodding of those around Charlie confirmed they were all on board. With straightened postures and sharp expressions, they were ready to put aside their emotions to focus on the case—the mission. It reminded him of the early moments with the command team before they embarked on a new operation. Their uncertainty about what may lie ahead was overruled by their focus on doing the job and doing it right. Charlie hoped the Walton deputies were ready.

“Lynch, Frost, I’d like to see you in my office.”

Deputy Frost nimbly crossed in front of Charlie. Freckles covered the bridge of the young man’s nose and matched his unruly reddish-blond hair. His uniform hung on a tall frame that his bony shoulders hadn’t quite grown into yet. Charlie noticed the extra notch cut into Frost’s gun belt. He smiled. The officer reminded him of a nerdier version of that prince in England, the younger one, trying to grow into a role that demanded respect.

“Get the door, Lynch.” Sheriff Huggins tugged on his own gun belt, which wasn’t too loose or too snug. Charlie was rather impressed by the agility the sheriff possessed for a man approaching his seventies.

When the door shut, Charlie stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his legs just wider than shoulder distance as he waited for his orders. Deputy Frost pushed up his thick black-framed glasses a second before his magnified gaze met Charlie’s. Frost straightened his shoulders and turned to face Sheriff Huggins, mimicking Charlie’s at ease position.

Sheriff Huggins sat at the edge of his desk and looked at Frost, then at Charlie. A smile pulled at his lips, but he recovered. “Have you found Sydney’s cell phone?”

“No, sir,” Charlie answered. “Deputy Wilson took a team out there this morning and they combed the area, but nothing was found.”

Disappointment flickered in Sheriff Huggins’s eyes. “Frost, I need you to go to the Donovans’ and pick up Sydney’s laptop. I want you to do a thorough search of her social media presence. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. All of . . .” Sheriff Huggins’s bristly white eyebrows came together. “What is it, Frost?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Frost’s thin frame tensed. “Just surprised you know about social media.”

“I’m not in the grave yet. Now, wipe that smirk off your face. You don’t see Lynch itching in his britches, do you?”

Frost shot a sideways glance at Charlie. “No, sir.”

“Someone’s daughter was killed, Frost. For Pete’s sake, she could have been in high school with your sister.”

That fact hit home and Frost straightened. “Yes, sir.”

“Lynch, were you able to get a statement from Lane Kent?”

“Yes, sir. Earlier this afternoon.”

Worry pinched Sheriff Huggins’s features. “How’s she doing?”