The Coffin Maker

"Dylan, just because the coffin maker made small coffins doesn't mean children are going to die."

The Sheriff placed a steaming cup of coffee before the boy and ruffled his hair. He looked across the room at his only deputy James and smiled. Ever since Dylan decided he was going to be a Sheriff last week, the eight-year-old had been dodging his footsteps. Not that he minded. Rose falls was so quiet, Dylan's little investigation was probably the only excitement he was ever going to get in a long while.

At least until Dylan changed professions again.

"But he made three small coffins with all these shiny buttons. Why would he do that if he didn't think a child's going to die?"

Sheriff angled his hip to a corner of his desk and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Does your mother make her apple pies before or after the customers come in?"

Dylan frowned. The question had nothing to do with his investigation. "Before."

"How does she know her customers, people like me will be hungry?"

"Because you don't have a wife and can't cook for yourself."

"Ditto," James whispered with a cheeky grin.

Sheriff shook his head. "It's the same Dylan, where your mother sells apple pies, the coffin maker sells--"

"Coffins! And it's not the same because someone has to die for him to make a sale. And he has made three new, shiny, small coffins."

"Hello Sheriff," Dylan's mother popped her head in.

The Sheriff waved her in and took a seat behind his desk. "How are you, Mimi?"

"Ok, I hope Dylan isn't being a pain?" She asked placing a fresh cup of coffee before him.

Sheriff grinned at his little coworker. "Not at all, but we will need to get to work soon."

Minutes later, he watched Dylan's head bobbing by his mother's side as he regaled her with his newly uncovered murder mystery and shook his head.

"I don't like children," James said, "but I love that kid."

"Yeah," Sheriff said absentmindedly. "Did the coffin maker really make three new coffins?"

James shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he plans to sell them in the city."

"This can't be happening," Mimi cried, raking her hand through her hair.

Sheriff hugged her to his side. "We will find him, I swear."

But even as he made that promise, cold sweat slithered down the middle of his back. Three boys- Six-year-old Adam, five-year-old Justin and his friend, Dylan had been missing for more than three days.

The odds of finding them alive was zero and Sheriff knew it.

"You've gotta go and let us do our job, Mimi."

The distraught mother nodded and walked away to join the hastily organized search party made of family, friends, and neighbors.

James kicked at a root in frustration. "But she's right. This shouldn't be happening. At least, not in Rose falls."

The two men made their way through the small local park on the edge of town, shining their torchlight through the gloom. Sheriff peered at his wristwatch and gritted his teeth in frustration. It was already dark. He had to call a halt to the search even though he was reluctant to.

"We found them!"

The words jolted through his frame, and he froze for a second. In the next second, he and James ran towards the excited calls.

As he pushed his way through the gathering, dread pooled in his gut at the disquietening silence that spread through the small crowd.

When he saw the three bodies, Sheriff closed his eyes.

"Jesus," James muttered.

He forced his eyes open and studied the bodies. Even from where he stood, the stab marks were obvious. Three children had been murdered.

Sheriff wondered if Rose falls would ever recover from these murders. Every day, more of their children and grandchildren migrated to the city as soon as they were old enough. But if he couldn't keep Rose falls safe no one would raise their child here any longer.

As it was, many businesses shut down the past three days as they turned their attention to search for the boys.
Except the coffin maker who must open to provide three coffins for three young boys.

Three small coffins.

Sheriff shone the light on Dylan's lifeless body.

Three small, new coffins. Already prepared.

"James, let's pay our coffin maker a visit."

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