The Clearing

"So, that's it?  You're just going to give up on this now?"

Janice sat at her kitchen table, staring at Sheldon with an unwavering gaze.  It had been nearly two years since Chaney had disappeared, and it was apparent that those many months had taken a toll on her.  She looked thin and weary, much different from the confident woman she had been the first time Sheldon had met her.

Sheldon poured two cups of coffee, attempting to avoid eye contact with Janice.  He handed one to her and then took a slow sip, trying to buy himself some time before he answered her question.  She didn't touch hers.

"I just don't understand how you can completely ignore everything that has happened over the last two years.  How can you give up on Chaney?  On me?"

Her voice broke.  For a moment, a crushing silence filled the air.  It was so different from their usual meetings.  While the circumstances surrounding their relationship had always been tragic, up until this moment they had always been filled with a strong sense of hope that Chaney would be found.  And today Sheldon had taken that away.

He put his coffee down and took a deep breath.  "I've tried, Janice.  People have been pressuring me to abandon this case for the last eighteen months, but I refused because I wanted so badly to find Chaney.  I did.  I've given my reputation for this case.  You know that.  The officers in this town think I've lost my judgment.  They think I've either gone crazy, or I'm doing this because of you.  And maybe they're right on both counts."

Janice looked down at her coffee, now slowly growing cold in her hands.

"You know how much I've come to care for you.  If I could bring your son back, I would.  But, in light of everything that's happened, and especially after last week, I can't keep devoting time to this.  And I can't expect more of my officers to risk their lives to find a boy who is most likely dead." 

The moment after he said those words, he wished he could take them back.  Janice stood up from the table, screeching her chair along the floor.

"He is NOT dead.  He's out there."  In an angry display that was completely unlike her, she hurled her coffee cup across the kitchen.  It crashed against the floor, spraying coffee and pieces of yellow ceramic across the cabinets.

For a moment, both Sheldon and Janice seemed shocked.  Then Sheldon moved to pick up the pieces.

"Janice, I'm so sorry.  I--"

Janice cut him off. "Don't, Sheriff.  I'm sorry for my outburst." She pressed her hand against her temples. "I think it's time for you to go."

"Let me help you."

Janice smiled a bitter smile.  "You've tried.  Please just go." She turned her back on him and began to mop up the brown liquid that had spread across the tile.  Sheldon hesitated for a moment, but realized that he would only make things worse by staying.  He grabbed his hat and started heading for the door.  Just before leaving, he hesitated.

"Janice," he said, turning back to look at her.  She stopped mopping for a moment, but kept her back to him.  "I'll come back next week to make sure you're doing alright.  Let me know if you need anything before then."  He waited for a response, but none came.  Feeling awful for letting her down, he turned and walked out into the night.

Why did he feel that he had failed her, though?  He had given everything to this case.  He had devoted his time to searching and investigating and following any semblance of leads, no matter how small.  And, frankly, the few leads he had had all been small and convoluted, at best.

All leads but one, that is.  This lead had been unbelievably accurate, much to Sheldon's surprise.

He had stumbled upon this new information last week, during what had now become a routine sweep of the forest for him.  It now seemed like a meaningless gesture to Sheldon, but it helped him feel like he was doing more for the case, so he kept at it.  By this time, Sheldon had explored every inch of that forest ten times over.

At least, that's what he thought.  That's when he wandered into the clearing.

He must have been caught up in his own thoughts, because he had no idea how he stumbled upon this place.  He had never seen it before.  He was sure of that.  This wasn't exactly a place that you could forget.

It was not a particularly large clearing; maybe twenty feet across or so, surrounded by towering trees.  The odd thing about the trees was that every single one had the same mark on it--a deep, jagged gash about nine feet up from the ground.  From each mark, a line of black sap-like material had spread out, congealing on the tree bark.  That wasn't the only thing odd about the place.  Everything in the surrounding parts of the forest was green and full of life.  This place was oddly silent--as if the birds knew to avoid it.  The few bits of grass that had tried to grow here were shriveled and dead.  And, in the center of the clearing was a large hole, charred and blackened.

Sheldon couldn't help feeling a sense of dread standing in that clearing.  There was something so eerie about the silence and the decay here.  He was almost about to leave when something caught his eye next to the hole.

Fragments of a guitar.