Page 6 of Redeeming Melodies

The barn's interior loomed dark and cavernous. My flashlight beam caught dust motes dancing in the air, glinted off old farm equipment, created more shadows than it banished. The animals were restless - horses shuffling in their stalls, chickens making soft distressed sounds.

Another thud, closer now. From behind the feed storage.

"Oakwood Grove Sheriff's Department," I called out, voice pitched to carry. "Come out with your hands where I can see them."

Silence. Then a flurry of movement - two figures bolting from behind the feed bins, heading for the back door. Young, from their speed and size. Local kids, probably, looking for something to steal and sell.

I swept my flashlight after them, catching a glimpse of hooded sweatshirts, dark pants. One stumbled, cursing. The voice was familiar.

"Tyler?" I called out, recognizing old man Morrison's troubled grandson. "That you?"

The figure froze for a split second - confirmation enough. The other kid took advantage of my distraction and slammed through the back door, disappearing into the night.

"Aw fuck," Tyler's voice cracked. "Sheriff Thompson, I-"

"Hands where I can see them, Tyler." I kept my voice firm but not harsh. "Nice and slow."

He turned, hands raised, hood falling back to reveal a face I knew too well. I'd caught him tagging the hardware store last month, let him off with a warning. Before that, it was shoplifting from the gas station. Small stuff, crying out for attention.

"The other kid," I said, holstering my weapon but keeping the flashlight on him. "Who was it?"

Tyler's jaw set stubbornly. Protecting a friend. I could respect that, even if I couldn't let it slide.

"Your choice," I sighed. "But this is your second strike with me. There won't be a third."

Something shifted in his expression - fear, maybe, or resignation. "We weren't gonna steal nothing. Just looking for a place to-" He stopped, looking away.

To hide. To feel powerful. To pretend you were something other than what you were. I knew all about that.

Ramirez’s cruiser lights swept across the barn's interior, painting everything in rotating red and blue. Tyler's shoulders slumped.

"We'll talk about this down at the station," I said, reaching for my cuffs. "Your grandfather's going to be disappointed."

The kid didn't resist as I cuffed him, didn't protest as I read him his rights. But something in his defiant stance, the way he held his chin up even in defeat - it was like looking in a mirror, fifteen years in the past.

Back at the station,the fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I filled out the incident report. Every detail mattered, even in a small-town break-in attempt. Tyler's name went into the system, another mark against him. The second kid's description too, though I had my suspicions about who it was.

The coffee in my cup had gone cold, bitter like the taste in my mouth whenever I thought about Tyler's face in the barn. Same look I used to see in the mirror - anger masking fear, defiance hiding shame.

"Busy night?"

I looked up to find Richard Greene leaning against my doorframe, that shit-eating grin on his face that meant he was fishing for gossip. As if the whole department didn't already know about the Randall farm incident.

"Nothing that won't be in my report," I replied, focusing back on my paperwork.

"Heard you ran into Liam at Caleb's place last week." Richard's tone was carefully casual. "Must've been awkward."

My pen pressed harder against the paper. "Something you need, Deputy?"

He shrugged, but his eyes were sharp. "Just making conversation, Sheriff. Town's been buzzing lately."

"If you've got time to gossip, you've got time to run radar on Route 27." I met his gaze steadily. "Speed traps don't monitor themselves."

Richard's grin faltered. "Right. Sure thing, boss." He pushed off the doorframe but paused. "You know, nobody holds the past against you anymore. Well, except maybe-"

"Deputy." My voice carried a warning edge.

He raised his hands in surrender and backed away, leaving me alone with my reports.

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