CHAPTER 20 SHERIFF ELLIE

20

Sheriff Ellie

SHERIFF ELLIE PRITCHET DIALED the sheriff's office in Jackson for the third time, and for the third time, the call rang twice and disconnected. Call Failed appeared on the display. She tossed her phone over to the passenger seat, muttering "Damn it all."

A few years back, some telecom company approached the town select board and offered to put up four more towers to help supplement the one up on Mount Washington. The board shot them down, caving to a handful of locals who felt the towers wouldn't blend with the town's quaint aesthetics. The same group of people complained when the Bend's first traffic light went up on Main and Court Avenue next to town square, petitioned to keep out the fast-food chains, and generally shit on progress of any sort. Well, maybe a good week or two of spotty service would bring them around.

She tried her radio again. "Sally, you there?"

Nothing but a rush of static.

While that was common out on Route 112, surrounded by mountains of granite, it made no sense in the center of town less than two blocks from the sheriff's station, unless there was some problem with the antenna up on the roof. Maybe one of the birds Matt mentioned had managed to hit it just right. It hadn't been replaced since her father's long stint as sheriff, and even then the job had gone to the lowest bid.

She'd worry about that later.

Ellie was still trying to wrap her head around what Matt found at the Tatum house when she pulled to a stop in front of the Hollows Bend Public Library. Built around 1900, the library was two stories of hand-forged red brick topped by a stone and copper clock tower that had an on-again, off-again relationship with accurately telling time. She noted it was only off by two minutes today, which was fairly impressive considering the last three times she'd checked it had been off by more than an hour.

Ellie was barely out of her car before the head librarian came running over, cradling a fire extinguisher in his lanky arms.

Edgar Newton was in his early seventies, at least six foot four, and thin as a rail, weighing maybe a buck-sixty. He was bald and had a nose well out of proportion with his closely set eyes. He'd worked at the library for as long as Ellie could remember. When she was a kid, her friends had called him the Stork. As she got older, she learned most of the adults called him Bean, which wasn't much better.

"Mr. Newton," Ellie said, careful not to call him either of those names as she looked past him toward the library entrance, fetching her hat from the passenger seat. "What's going on?"

Newton hefted the fire extinguisher from his left side to his right, cradling it under his arm. "Follow me, I'll show you."

He led her through the entrance, past the main counter, and down several aisles to a smoldering pile of books stacked under a framed photograph of Oscar Wilde. Everything was covered in white powder discharged from the extinguisher. The air was still cloudy with it. Beneath the dry odor not unlike baby powder was the pungent stench of some kind of accelerant.

Newton brushed the bottom of his nose with the back of his wrist and sniffed, as if he was trying not to sneeze. "It's Ms. Gilmore; I don't know what's gotten into her. I came in just as she dropped a match on this pile. I managed to get the fire out, then she disappeared in the stacks, pulling books as she went, mumbling some nonsense about filth." He glanced deeper into the library, narrowed those beady eyes, and turned back to Ellie. "She opened this morning. If I hadn't come in thirty minutes early, she might have burned the entire building down." Although he was clearly flustered, he spoke in barely a whisper. Each of his words was articulated perfectly, as if he were giving a speech. Somehow, his voice dropped even lower. "She's covered in lighter fluid, Sheriff, absolutely reeks of it. She was carrying one can, and I saw at least one more in her purse. I've known her for the better part of fifty years, and she's never once acted like this, I'm afraid something in her may be … broken."

Ellie looked around the library. It seemed oddly still. Only about half the motion-activated lights were on. The tall bookshelves made these elongated shadows across the Berber carpet.

"Where did she go?"

Newton pointed through the maze of books to a spot in the back left corner. "She was near Young Adult the last time I saw her."