1984

"Sheriff Sherwood."

Robert Sherwood had been about to unlock his cruiser. He paused, back to the speaker, and closed his eyes for a moment in irritation. *Careful, Robert,* he cautioned himself. *You're in an elected position now. Gotta keep the public happy.* He schooled his expression into pleasantness and turned. "Mrs. Breman, hello." He looked past her. "And Daphne. My, Daphne, you're looking nice today."

He was a little surprised to realize that he meant what he'd said. Daphne was wearing a pale blue skirt that reached just to her knees, and the calves below the hem were smooth and shapely. If a man were inclined to contemplate such things, he'd probably decide that the legs above were just the same. Robert was glad when he remembered that Daphne was now eighteen. He'd have been very uncomfortable having such thoughts about a minor.

She also wore a butter yellow blouse that draped gently over a firm bosom, the color making her blonde hair look more golden than dishwater. Her expression was still blank, but Sherwood realized that he'd seen expressions not much different than that on dozens of magazine covers and cat walks.

"She picked out the clothes herself," said Mrs. Bremin, a hint of pride in her voice. "And they were on sale, too. She's learned how to dress nicely, but also how to be practical. Sheriff Sherwood... You know what I'm going to ask."

He sighed, nodding--then thought about what she meant, and shook his head. "No news, Mrs. Bremin. I'm sorry. It's been four years."

"And if I understand correctly, a person isn't presumed dead till they've been missing for seven years, Sheriff. Even then there's still a body to be found, don't you agree? Surely you can understand that I want some sort of closure. I'd like to see his worthless carcass--dead, or alive." She noticed his wince, and one corner of her mouth curled up bitterly. "He wasn't much of a husband when he was here, but the way he skipped out on his responsibilities gals me. I'd very much like to haul him up on child abandonment charges, and bleed him for every cent of support I can get." She gave him a severe look. "Can I assume that as Sheriff, you'll be even MORE dedicated to locating him?"

Robert rubbed his hair tiredly. "Mrs. Breman, we've helped you file the missing person report. We helped you contact the FBI. I study every report about unidentified bodies that comes through the office. I don't know what else I can do."

She sniffed. "Just remember that as an elected official your obligations to your constituents is higher than ever."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll remember that." He was looking past her. "Mrs. Bremin, Daphne is wandering off."

She glanced around. "No, she isn't. She's going in the sporting goods store. She's been looking in the window every time we come to town for the last few months. I think she's finally made up her mind about something."

Sherwood frowned. "About what?"

Elsie gave him a mildly surprised look. "About a purchase, of course." She went into the store Daphne had just entered.

Robert thought about just getting into his cruiser and leaving one of his most persistent aggravations behind, but his curiosity was aroused. What on earth could Elsie Breman mean about Daphne deciding to buy something? Letting her pick clothes off a rack was one thing--Elsie just had to make sure she was in the right size section. Against his better judgment, he followed the women into the store.

There was a rack of bicycles on display before the front window. Daphne was standing there, staring at them, with Elsie beside her. A clerk bustled over and addressed Elsie. "Can I help you?"

Elsie gestured at Daphne. "Not me--her."

The clerk gave Daphne a doubtful look. He'd noticed the girl window-shopping before. *Window-shopping is too complicated a word for it,* he thought. *I figured she might as well have been staring at a display of toilet tissue for all the animation in her expression.* "Miss?"

Daphne's hand drifted out and settled on the seat of one of the bicycles--a nice mid-priced six speed. "How much money, funny, honey-bunny."

The man blinked. "How...? Do you mean how much does it cost?"

Elsie snorted, and Robert found himself saying, "Well, maybe she didn't phrase it like an English major, but -I- could tell what she meant."

"Let me check." He read a tag on the bike and jotted a product number down on his pad, then went to the check out stand.

Sherwood said, "You're going to buy Daphne a bicycle?"

"No, Sheriff--Daphne is apparently going to buy herself a bicycle, provided the cost suits her," Elsie corrected him.

"Is that wise? I mean, has she ever ridden before?"

"No, but there's plenty of level ground around the house for her to practice. I'm sure she can learn without too much trouble."

"Mrs. Bremin--she's epileptic."

"She's on medication," snapped Elsie. "God, you people can never get past that, can you? She hasn't had a seizure in ages. But that's why I think it's a good idea that she get a bicycle. She'll never be able to have a driver's license, and there will come a time when I can't drive her around. With a bicycle, and perhaps a little wagon to pull behind, she'll be able to get around quite well. We live close to town, and the roads aren't busy."

He stared at her. "I can't believe you're serious."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "I'm not going to live forever, and I swear..." her tone became fierce, "I swear that they are not going to stick my baby in some sort of government run warehouse or group home when I'm gone. We're not rich, but I've set up a trust fund so that she'll have the means to live on her own. I just have to be sure she has the skills. Being able to get back and forth on her own to shop and run errands is a big part of that."

The clerk came back. "This model comes to 69.34, tax included."

Daphne stood silently for a moment, hand on the bicycle. Then she patted the seat. "Buy. Try buy my bike." She turned and started toward the register.

Feeling something very close to astonishment, Robert said, "Well, you heard her--she wants to buy it."

"But I can't sell her the floor model," the man protested.

"You have one boxed up, don't you?" said Elsie.

"Yes," said the man. "But it's not assembled."

"Then we'll assemble it." Her tone became blunt. "Do we look incapable of following instructions?"

"Uh... no, ma'am."

"Then hurry up. Don't keep my daughter waiting."

The clerk looked over to find that the blank faced girl was at the counter, and was slowly filling out a check. He hurried up and said, "Look, lady, maybe you should get your mother to buy this for you. I need ID to take a check, and..." Daphne laid a Department of Motor Vehicles Identification Card on top of the check, never raising her eyes to the man. "Oh. Okay, then." He started to ring up the purchase. "I'll get that item and carry it out to your car for you."

Elsie was watching the transaction with grim satisfaction. Robert shook his head. From what he'd heard, this girl should have spent a short life drooling and rocking in some institution. Here she was, making a fairly substantial purchase, just as capably as anyone else he knew. He looked over at Elsie. *And that has to be mainly due to her mother. Elsie just isn't going to let her baby be ignored, passed over, or exploited. Hell, makes me wonder what that girl could have accomplished if she'd been born with a full set of God's gifts.* "You going to need any tools to put that together, Mrs. Bremin? I have a box out in the cruiser if you want to borrow anything."

She gave him a sharp look, but recognized the respect in his tone. "No, Sheriff." She smiled. "Two women living alone--we've had to learn to take care of ourselves as a matter of survival. We'll be all right--but thank you."

Robert Sherwood watched as the clerk finished the sale, then he helped carry the box out to their car. When he asked if they'd be able to get the box into their house, Elsie told him, a little tartly, that there was nothing to prevent them opening up the box and making several trips, was there?

He watched as they drove away. *She wants Daphne to be able to live on her own.* He shook his head. *I'll be damned if I don't think she might actually be able to do it.* He noticed a teenage boy standing on the other side of the street. Robert recognized him--Bobby Barclay. Yes, he'd had dealings with Bobby before--underage drinking, vandalism, shop lifting, DUI. All had been dealt with by... you couldn't even call it a slap on the wrist--it had been more of a pat. Yes, Bobby was a prime example of too much money and power directed at protecting someone who didn't deserve it.

Robert watched him narrowly. *But I think ol' Bobby would have turned out nasty no matter what sort of upbringing he'd had. It's just that he'd be in jail by now if his family was poor.* Robert suspected Bobby of a few things a bit worse than what had been sealed in his juvenile record a few months ago. There were rumors that he wasn't as gentle or considerate with some of the girls as he might be, but he was shrewd enough to confine his rougher activities to girls who had no credibility in the eyes of most of Crystal Lake.

A month ago Robert had caught Bobby and his girlfriend getting out of Bobby's car at the local hamburger joint. The girlfriend's eyes were red, her face damp, and she was wiping a fresh trickle of blood from a slightly swelling nose. When Robert asked her about it, she'd looked away and said that Bobby had stopped suddenly--she hadn't been wearing her seatbelt and had smacked into the dash. Bobby had smirked, and said she was lucky that she hadn't busted her skull. Robert had walked him a few yards away and told him, quietly and coldly, that Bobby had better consider the fact that he was no longer a juvenile. "And that means that your little cloak of invisibility is gone, Barclay. Your daddy was looking pretty fed up the last time he bailed you out, too. Think about it. You might be less of an embarrassment to him if you were doing some time instead of getting into fresh trouble."

Now Robert's eyes narrowed as he watched Bobby watch the Bremin car pass. *No, he's not watching the car pass--he's watching Daphne pass.* The passenger side window was open. Daphne was sitting as straight as usual, but her head was tipped to the side. A sheaf of her yellow hair was caught by the breeze, and it drifted and waved out the window, glinting in the sunlight. Her pale blue eyes were, as always, fixed on the middle distance, as if looking at something only she could see.

Bobby Barclay stared, wetting his lips. His eyes followed the car till it turned the corner. He finally turned away, and his eyes caught Robert Sherwood's hard stare. For a moment the younger man paused in apprehension. Then he straightened a little, smirked, and swaggered away.

Robert looked up the street, and thought about Daphne, eventually living along. *She might be able to do it, but it might not be such a good idea, considering what we have wandering around Crystal Lake.*