Read Fraidy Hole: A Sheriff Lester P. Morrison Novel for Free Online

missin g .”
    “And if she’s not at school ?”
    “Then you and I are gonna get real busy, real quick.”
     
    *****
     
    At the town square, Lester made a turn and drove to the back of the courthouse, a two-story brick building, tan with four prominent and ornate columns atop a flight of concrete steps. Billy Ray pulled the trash bag out of the back and dragged it across the lawn to a door marked Sheriff in big gold letters on a frosted window. Under the title was a decorative five-pointed star with another smaller star featuring a banner that read Cimarron County. The deputy drug the bag past the front office with the two metal desks where he and Lester shared one out-dated computer, and into the back room. He spread the young girl’s clothes on a long table and carefully looked at each garment for rips, tears, or any suspicious stains. He felt slightly uneasy handling Melissa’s undergarments, especially when he came across a bright red thong. Other than the short skirts, a couple of scoop-neck tee’s, and two other pair of underwear—one pink, one black, both high cut—Billy Ray found nothing that would set any reasonable caring father into a fit of rage, much less give him a reason to kill. There were no bloodstains visible to the naked eye, nor anything that looked like semen on the panties or skirts. He bagged the clothing in a new sack, labeled it, and stuffed the black smelly one in the trash can. Returning to his desk, he found the proper form, and began to write: Parker, Melissa, female, Caucasian, age 18.
    The Boise City high school was an older building, three stories, with arched windows and doorways. There was an adequate parking lot filled with cars and pickups, most were older models , but some were tricked up with racy chrome wheels and low profile tires. There were some notable exceptions , a shiny Pontiac G6, a 2011 GMC Terrain SUV, and at the end of the lot, taking up two spaces, was a new Ford Mustang, metallic gray, exactly like the one so often seen on the TV commercial s .
    Lester pulled the pickup into a space marked Visitors and got out. Next to the sidewalk, an American flag flapped loudly in the wind, its chain banging against the metal pole. Inside, he found a room marked Office and stuck his head in the door. A heavyset woman at a desk covered with papers , looked up, her face surprised at the sight of a badge.
    “May I help you?”
    “Yes Ma’am. Would you be so kind as to check and see if a girl by the name of Melissa Parker is in school today?”
    “Well, yes, I suppose so. Is something wrong?”
    Lester hesitated, wondering how much information to release at this particular point in time, but said, “Ma’am, I really don’t know. It seems Melissa had an argument at home last night and walked out. Never came back. Probably just a teenage kid thing, but we wanted to check it out, make sure she’s okay.”
    The woman smiled. “Oh, I know how that is. I went through all that stuff with my boy Jeff when he was that age. His parents were the stupidest people on earth. Then he got older and in only a year or two, our IQ shot straight up. She chuckled silently to herself, her ample bosom shaking in amusement. “Let me just check today’s attendance on the computer. I thought I’d never get the hang of these things. She tapped the keyboard a few times. The corners of her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed. “Oh my, no, Melissa is absent. That’s unusual for her. She has a great attendance record going back to her sophomore year; been here every day except for that one time she had the flu.”
    Lester nodded and asked, “Do you think I could talk with Becky Wilson? I understand she and Melissa are good friends.”
    “Sure you can , Sheriff. Let me look and see what class she’s in.” After a moment, “Here she is, Algebra. Have a seat. I’ll just step down the hall and fetch her.”
    Lester didn’t want to take a seat; he wanted to walk, pace the floor a little, his