Chapter 4: Under the Sheriff’s Gaze

I slept until noon, then my phone woke me up.

The ringtone jolted me awake. I groaned, squinting at the screen, trying to remember what day it was.

Half-asleep, I fumbled for my phone and saw it was Donnelly. I was about to brag about my haul, but his tone was serious—he told me to come to the station immediately.

His voice was tight, clipped—no trace of the friendly banter we usually shared. My stomach dropped.

I snapped awake.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. I jumped out of bed, adrenaline flooding back in.

Something must’ve happened again.

I threw on the first clean shirt I could find, grabbed my keys, and raced out the door.

The drive felt longer than usual, every red light an eternity. I kept replaying Hank’s last words in my head.

Donnelly brought me to the interview room, looking every bit the hard-nosed sheriff.

His uniform was crisp, his jaw set. He didn’t smile. I felt like a criminal just walking in.

A bad feeling crept over me.

I tried to steady my breathing, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I’d never been in trouble before—not like this.

Turned out Hank’s wife had called the cops.

She was worried sick. Said Hank never missed breakfast, never left his phone off. Her voice, I heard later, was shaky and scared.

Hank hadn’t come home and wasn’t answering his phone.

He’d promised to be home by sunrise. When he didn’t show, she knew something was wrong.

His family thought something had happened to him.

They called everyone they knew, checked the hospitals, drove his usual routes. Nothing. That’s when she called Donnelly.

Because I’d gone night fishing with him, I became a prime suspect and was called in for questioning.

I guess it made sense, but it still felt like a punch to the gut. Me—a suspect? I’d never even gotten a parking ticket.

Barely having time to process my shock, I recounted every detail of the night fishing trip with Hank.

I told them everything—where we went, what we caught, what time we left. My voice shook, but I didn’t hold anything back.

Donnelly sat across from me, face serious, drumming his fingers on the table.

He watched me closely, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying to read me, looking for any sign I was hiding something.

“Marty, think hard. Is there anything you haven’t told us?”

His voice was gentle, but there was steel underneath. He wanted the truth, and he wasn’t going to let me off easy.

“Sheriff, I’ve told you everything I know.”

I met his gaze, hoping he believed me. I was scared—really scared.

He checked my texts with Hank and pulled my dashcam footage. Everything was normal.

He scrolled through my phone, watched the video of us driving home, even checked the timestamps. It all lined up.

For now, I was cleared.

He let out a long sigh, shoulders sagging a little. “You’re good, Marty. Go home, get some rest.”

After the interview, it was lunchtime, so I invited Donnelly to eat with me at Big Ed’s sandwich shop.

I needed something normal—a burger, some fries, the comfort of routine. Donnelly hesitated, then agreed. We walked over in silence.