Two local news crews shot video and photographs from a discreet distance outside the property. Sheriff Weik stood in the middle of the snowy lawn. He barked at one of his younger cops who was carrying a sealed evidence bag out of the house. The entire search looked more focused and efficient than Stride had seen in the woods the previous day. The stakes were higher. The target of the investigation had changed, from a dead cop to a woman who had disappeared. Weik’s flat-brimmed brown hat was perfectly level, not even tipped a degree off center. An unlit cigar was clamped between his teeth under the fur of his mustache. He looked like a pit bull who didn’t let go once his jaws bit into something. That was the image he wanted to convey to the voting public. In control. In charge. The sheriff spotted Stride on the street near Kuckuck Park. He jabbed a finger, beckoning Stride closer. It wasn’t a request. Stride turned up the collar of his leather jacket against the wind and wandered onto the lawn.
