The morning was cloudy and the scent of rain hung in the air as it wafted through the open window in Dewey’s room. The view from the window at the inn looked over the Bluestone River. It was choppy today. The water level was still high from a couple of days ago. He was glad he didn’t have to ford the river to get anywhere he needed to go.
He went downstairs, had breakfast, and decided it was time to pay the sheriff a visit, and hope he could get some honest answers. Recalling his conversation with Bert from the night before made it hard to keep an open mind about what to expect from the sheriff. If the sheriff couldn’t or wouldn’t produce the l...