The midday sun glinted through the window blind in the Sheriff's office reflecting upon his silver badge as he sat on the comfy sofa in front of his desk. The air crackled with a tension thicker than the summer heat. Elijah, fidgeting with the worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder, forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Sheriff Sims," he greeted, extending a hand. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."
Sheriff Sims eyed the hand for a beat too long before reluctantly gripping it. His tanned face was etched with lines deeper than the canyons that rimmed the Black Hills, his steely blue gaze unwavering. "Mr..." he drawled, his voice a gravelly rasp.
"Call me Eli," Elijah implied,
"Not the usual Lockwood who graces these parts. Where are the Lockwoods? Figured they'd be the ones hot on the trail of these attacks."
