Midnight: A Foxvalley Thriller (First Draft)✔

Chapter XI: Danger Zone

Foxvalley, Colorado

May 28, 1:42 P.M.

A midnight colored Lincoln car pulled up in front of the Foxvalley Sheriff's station. Smoke arose into the dark clouded sky behind it. The smoke lifted up from the ashes of the library from less a mile away. The back passenger door of the black Lincoln car weaved open. A black dress shoe ejected from the inside of the vehicle. It landed on the asphalt of the street below.

A man with an aged appearance stood up out of the car. From his pocket he pulled out a pack of Wayward cigarettes. He pulled one out and placed it between his lips. Out of his other pocket he removed a silver colored lighter. A bright glint blinded off it into his eyes. He raised the lighter to the cigarette hanging from his mouth. A flame sparked out from the small silver box and ignited of end of his cigarette. Slipping the lighter into his pocket, he continued toward the front glass door of the sheriff's station.

The door swung open as the man charged in. He took a quick glance down the hall to see if anyone showed up. To his surprise no one did show, which would make his job a whole lot easier. He barged into the sheriff's office, and stepped up to a file cabinet behind the desk. He pulled out one of the cabinet doors and ruffled through the selection of folders inside. He pulled out one that read, "The Johnson Case."

The man flipped the folder open and continued to, illegally, search over the folder. He pulled out a page. "'FBI agent believes the suspect is using a Native American legend as a red herring.' Huh, not even close," The man read and mumbled to himself. With a sigh he placed the page back into the folder. A fireplace sat against a wall on the side of the room. The man pulled the lighter back out from his pocket. He raised it up to the corner of the folder. A flame spurted onto the corner and proceeded to burn through the folder and papers.

The man tossed the engulfing vanilla folder into the brick fireplace in front of him. The fire rolled over from the folder onto the untouched logs in the fireplace, spreading like a deadly contagion across the clean wooden logs. The black suited man stood over the blazing fire below, smoking his cigarette. After a few minutes he exited through the door of the sheriff's office. When he stepped back outside the black Lincoln waited, its engine producing a low rumble, as if excited for his return.

The man swung the back door open, and sat down on the black leather seat inside. He reached his hand out and slammed the back door closed again. In a fit of dust the car sped of down Sandhill Dr. It's tires screeched on the asphalt of the street. They roared past the Sheriff, standing out in front of the remains of the Foxvalley Library. The older man's gaze rolled over the man sitting in the seat in across from him. "Good job," he said, "Now we just need to find that goddam librarian."

Sheriff Abraham Henderson payed no attention to the black Lincoln sliding away behind him. He's seen black Lincoln cars driving down the quiet streets of his small town, and it wouldn't be the last he'd see. Deputy Gregory stood up out of the patrol car. Impatience bursted within him, if they didn't get to the mountain lion sighting in enough time it'll escape. There won't be a mountain lion to hunt down. Anxiety clouded his eyes with every passing second. The only thing occupying the deputy's mind was hunting that mountain lion that killed the hotel clerk before it mauls anyone else. He knew José, another good friend of his. He, José, Mills, and Gale used to go hiking up north around Bear Lake. Now Gale only remained, the town mechanic. His friendships with both Mills and José made hunting this mountain lion even more important to him.

Instead, the rarity of a fire in town occupied the sheriff's head. It didn't really make much sense for it to be an electrical fire, how did the wire get cut in the first place. What if someone cut it to make it look like an electrical fire? What if someone purposely cut the wire to cause the fire? These question only continued to cloud Henderson's mind. "Sheriff, we should really get to this mountain lion before we don't know where it's at," Deputy Gregory called.