by Bryan Cohen
Chapter 17
As Sheriff Norris walked into his office, he thought of his phone conversation with Erica the previous night. The phone rang shortly after Jennifer had called her long-lost friend, and the sheriff felt compelled to pick it up. He'd gotten several strange feelings in the last 24 hours and it made him feel unfit for duty. His ability to think clearly and make snap decisions was why he'd made a good sheriff, and he avoided drinking and did his best to get eight hours of sleep a night to keep his head on straight. He'd even let his first marriage crumble to keep his job at the front of his mind. He wasn't surprised to hear Erica's voice when he picked up the phone.
"Hey, sheriff."
"If you're looking for Jennifer, I can–"
"You know that I'm not. I need you to tell me everything you can about Ted Finley."
Sheriff Norris knew it wasn't protocol to provide information from the office database to anyone who asked. There was a bureaucratic process. One that he'd never broken until now. He punched Ted's name into the computer.
"Nothing is coming up. No priors. Ted doesn't have a file."
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
"I suppose that's good. Though a little aggression wouldn't have hurt. Anything strange in his family?"
"I think you might be more familiar with them than I am."
The Finleys were on the other side of town. He'd seen Ted's sister play softball once or twice, but she was a few years older and likewise had no permanent record.
"My memory," she said. "It's not 100%."
"Neither is my database. Do you have any other questions?"
The sheriff was anxious. A part of him felt like he was having this conversation against his will, but he couldn't find the words to speak up against it.
"I don't know the names of the perps involved in the diner incident. Can you email me everything you have on them?"
"I don't feel... I don't have your email address."
Erica provided it.
"Thanks, sheriff. Don't worry. You're doing more help than harm."
Sheriff Norris wasn't so sure.
The four perps his deputies arrested at the diner were a strange case. He'd booked all of them at one point or another since he'd taken over as sheriff five years prior. It was always for small stuff: petty theft, breaking and entering, trespassing on private property. Armed robbery and attempted murder were a step up for such a lowly bunch. He was driving Erica home at the time, but he'd heard the mood on the scene was as strange as it came. Nigel apparently looked amused as he was being cuffed.
"Goodnight, Erica," the sheriff said as he hung up.
Erica was acting different than he'd ever known her to be. It was about a year ago when Sheriff Norris became concerned about Jennifer hanging out with her. Even though she was a sophomore in high school at the time, she'd already been brought in twice for drinking underage. Jennifer swore she never had a sip, but the sheriff knew it was only a matter of time until peer pressure made her give in. When Erica disappeared, everybody at the office assumed she'd be back after going on a bender in the city with a scruffy 20-something. Sheriff Norris didn't share that sentiment and began putting out feelers before she'd been missing for 24 hours.
Things like this shouldn't happen under my watch, he thought.
He had her picture and information out to every precinct in every county in the entire state by the end of the weekend. Jennifer helped him to organize a sweep of the woods a day or two later. He guessed they didn't do a great job, seeing as that's where he found her.
"No," he said to himself. "I found her at the train station."
When he searched his memories of the previous day, he couldn't come up with a picture of either the woods or the train station. He did recall, however, the constant presence of Erica's parents on the local TV news channels in the weeks following her disappearance. The sheriff didn't want to tell them the worst, but he knew that most missing persons cases that latest this long didn't end well. He supposed this was one of those one in a million happy endings. If not for the business with Ted Finley, Erica's return would have made national news.
"Hey sheriff, there's a reporter on line two asking about our resident superhero."
Grayson, the office admin, woke the sheriff from his stupor. He smiled more than Sheriff Norris would have liked given the early hour.
"Put him through."
The reporter was the first to call that morning, though the late night crew had taken at least two-dozen messages. The sheriff had told them only to take emergencies and leave a "no comment" for the rest. He knew that tactic would only last so long. The reporter spoke fast and the sheriff did his best to keep up.
"Say that again?" the sheriff asked.
"I asked if you'd consider enlisting Ted as part of local law enforcement."
The sheriff groaned.
"He's a 16-year-old kid."
"Sure," the reporter said. "A 16-year-old kid with the ability to move objects with his mind. Have you seen the video?"
By the time the sheriff had caught the Page's security feed footage, it already had several million views. He hated to see the diner all torn up like that, though he was glad nobody was seriously hurt.
"I've seen it. No, we're not considering making a teenager an officer."
"So is he a threat, then?"
The sheriff had wondered that himself. Superheroes were easier to handle in the movies than in real life. He wondered what would happen if Ted's powers accidentally hurt or killed somebody. Would it be murder? An act of God? It was unprecedented.
"Ted saved a lot of people's lives yesterday. It wouldn't be very neighborly of me to consider him a threat. Thanks for the questions."
The sheriff hung up. Grayson entered.
"Sheriff, do you want to see all the messages from last night?"
Sheriff Norris leaned back in his chair and put his hands through his diminishing sideburns.
"Get me another cup of coffee and then wake up the prisoners. It's time to have a little chat."
It didn't take long for the sheriff to down his second cup of joe and prepare himself for the walk to the holding cell. It was rare for the cell to be packed with prisoners as it was today. There would occasionally be one or two drunkards sleeping it off. He even recalled Erica spending a night in there as an attempt to scare her straight. It didn't work.
"Good morning, Sheriff Norris," Nigel said through the bars. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
Nigel looked loose and relaxed as he leaned his back against the side of the cell. His smile was just as the deputies had noted the previous day.
What does he have to be so happy about?
"What do you have to be so happy about?" the sheriff asked. "You'll be in a county jail by the end of the week."
Nigel interlocked his fingers and rested his chin on his hands. The way he looked at the Sheriff made him think of how he looked at Jennifer when she said something adorable.
"Three square meals a day and constant companionship? That sounds quite nice if you ask me."
The sheriff let out an audible sigh and looked down at his clipboard.
"Can you at least tell me why you did it?" Sheriff Norris asked. "You're a below-the-radar guy. You could've lived like that for a lifetime."
The witness accounts said that Nigel exhibited superhuman strength and blew out all the windows using his voice alone. The sheriff wished that several people hadn't corroborated the report.
"You know what they say," Nigel said. "Get busy living or get busy dying. I suppose I did a little of both."
The sheriff didn't like riddles.
"If I have my way, I'll have you guys out of here first thing tomorrow. Paperwork. You know how it goes."
Nigel nodded.
"Seems like a lot of red tape."
"It's how life works."
The sheriff began to walk away until the tone of Nigel's voice halted him.
"What if it wasn't, sheriff?" Nigel asked. "What if
you could change the rules and live your life the way you wanted?"
Sheriff Norris had come into contact with Nigel on multiple occasions. He'd never pegged him as the philosophical type.
"I suppose that'd be nice. Don't start any revolutions when I'm gone."
"No promises," Nigel said. "Oh, one last thing."
Sheriff Norris crossed his arms.
"If you happen to see Ted, please give him my best."
As the sheriff sat back down at his desk, he felt compelled to make a phone call. It almost didn't feel like he was dialing at all. He looked down at his hands and wondered what was happening to his quiet town.