I resist the urge to rub at the ache behind my eyes. “No. I’d appreciate it if you’d do your best to nip any rumors in the bud. There are going to be a lot flying around in the next few days.”

“Absolutely.”

I look down at the pink slips and decide to put her enthusiasm to good use. “Call these people back. Tell them the Painters Mill PD is investigating the crime aggressively, and I’ll have a statement in the next edition of the Advocate.” The Advocate is Painters Mill’s weekly newspaper, circulation four thousand. “If you get any media inquiries, tell them you’ll fax a press release this afternoon. Everything else is ‘no comment,’ you got that?”

She hangs on to every word, looking a little too excited, a little too intense. “I got it, Chief. No comment. Anything else?”

“I could use some coffee.”

“I got just the thing.”

I envision one of her soy-espresso-chocolate concoctions and shudder. “Just coffee, Mona. And some aspirin if you have it.” I start toward the sanctuary of my office.

“Oh. Sure. Milk. No sugar. Is Tylenol okay?”

A question occurs to me just as I reach my office. I stop and turn to her. “Has anyone filed a missing person report for a young female in the last few days?”

“I haven’t seen anything come across the wire.”

But it’s still early. I know the call will come. “Check with the State Highway Patrol and the Holmes County sheriff’s office, will you? Female. Caucasian. Blue. Dark blonde. Fifteen to thirty years of age.”

“I’m on it.”

I walk into my office, close the door behind me and resist the urge to lock it. It’s a small room crowded with a beat-up metal desk, an antique file cabinet speckled with rust, and a desktop computer that grinds like a coffee mill. A single window offers a not-so-stunning view of the pickup trucks and cars parked along Main Street.

Working off my coat, I drape it over the back of my chair, hit the power button on the computer and head directly to the file cabinet. While the computer boots, I unlock the cabinet, tug out the bottom drawer and page through several case files. Domestic disputes. Simple assault. Vandalism. The kinds of crimes you expect in a town like Painters Mill. The file I’m looking for is at the back. My fingers pause before touching it. I’ve been the chief of police for two years, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to look at the file. This morning, I don’t have a choice.

The folder is fat and brown with frayed edges and metal clasps that are broken from use. The peeling label reads: Slaughterhouse Murders, Holmes County, January 1992. I take the file to my desk and open it.

My predecessor, Delbert McCoy, was a stickler for detail and it shows in his record-keeping. A typed police report with dates, times and locations stares up at me. I see witness names replete with contact information and background checks. It appears every facet of the investigation was carefully documented. Except for one incident that was never reported to the police . . .