Chapter 2 Everyone Is A Suspect

• The main street of Willowbrook was eerily quiet as I made my way towards the local sheriff's office, the mid-afternoon sun casting long shadows across the deserted sidewalks. The quaint storefronts and well-manicured lawns that had greeted me earlier now seemed to exude an air of unease, as if the town itself was holding its breath in anticipation of her presence.
• Undeterred, I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the sheriff's office, the bell above it chiming softly. The interior was utilitarian and dimly lit, a far cry from the cheerful facade of the town outside.
• A gruff-looking man in a khaki uniform looked up from his desk as she approached. "Can I help you, miss?" he asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.
• "I'm Emma Evans, a reporter from the Sentinel," I replied, producing my press credentials. "I'm here to investigate the disappearance of Mark Sutton."
• The sheriff's eyes narrowed, and he let out a heavy sigh. "I should've known you'd be comin' around," he muttered, pushing himself up from his chair.
• I steeled my gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I have some questions, if you don't mind."
• The sheriff hesitated for a moment, then gestured towards a rickety wooden chair. "Have a seat."
• I perched on the edge of the seat, my notebook and pen at the ready. "Can you tell me what you know about Mark Sutton's disappearance?"
• The sheriff leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "Not much to tell, to be honest. Fella went missin' a couple weeks ago, and we've been investigatin', but so far, no leads."
• It made me frown, my suspicions growing. "And you don't find that unusual?"
• The sheriff shrugged. "People go missin' all the time, Ms. Evans. Sometimes they just... wander off and don't come back. Ain't nothin' we can do about it."
• I studied the man's impassive expression, sensing there was more to the story. "What about the other disappearances in Willowbrook over the past decade? I've heard there have been a few."
• The sheriff's jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know what you've been told, but I can assure you, there's nothin' unusual goin' on in this town. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."
• I opened mouth to press the issue, but the sheriff had already turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, effectively dismissing me.
• With a frustrated sigh, I rose from the chair and headed back out to the main street, my mind racing. The sheriff's evasive responses had only served to heighten my suspicions, and I became more determined than ever to uncover the truth.
• As I walked, I noticed the curious stares of the few townspeople I passed, their expressions ranging from mild interest to outright hostility. It was as if my mere presence had disrupted the delicate balance of this sleepy community.
• Deciding to try a different approach, I ducked into the local diner, the bell above the door announcing her arrival. The few patrons seated at the counter and booths fell silent, all eyes turning towards me.
• I mustered a friendly smile and approached the counter, where a middle-aged woman with a tight-lipped expression was wiping down the surface.
• "Excuse me, ma'am," I muttered, "I'm looking for information about Mark Sutton. I understand he was a regular customer here. Do you know anything about his disappearance?"
• The woman paused, her eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry, I don't know nothin' about that," she said, her voice clipped. "We don't talk about such things 'round here."
• I pressed on, undeterred. "But surely you must have noticed something unusual in the days leading up to his disappearance. Anything at all that seemed out of the ordinary?"
• The woman shook her head firmly. "I'm afraid I can't help you, miss. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."
• With that, she turned and bustled away, leaving me standing alone at the counter, my frustration growing.
• Glancing around, I noticed the other patrons had resumed their conversations, their voices hushed and their gazes averted. It was as if they were deliberately trying to avoid any interaction with me.
• Stepping back outside, I paused, taking a deep breath of the crisp, autumn air. The town's evasiveness and suspicion had only piqued my curiosity further. Clearly, the residents of Willowbrook were hiding something, and I am determined to uncover it.
• Reaching into my bag, I retrieved the files Sam had provided and began reviewing them once more, searching for any clues that might shed light on the mystery. As I studied the details of the previous disappearances, a growing sense of unease settled over me.
• What was it about this quiet, unassuming town that was driving its residents to such lengths to conceal the truth?
• However I knew I wouldn't find the answers here. Tucking the files back into my bag, I set off, my steps quickening as I made my way towards the old factory on the outskirts of town, where Mark Sutton had last been seen.
• If the townspeople weren't going to cooperate, I would have to find another way to uncover the truth. And I wasn't about to let a little resistance stand in the way.
• The mysteries of Willowbrook were about to be laid bare, whether the town's residents liked it or not.