“That’s not a very nice neighborhood, Rick”, the Sheriff said as he sat down at the table.

“I moved there when I got the job here. I guess I thought I could do some good.”

“Has it gotten any better?”, the Sheriff asked.

“A little. There hasn’t been a murder in North Aberdeen in five years, but I can’t really take credit for that. I just try to keep the really obnoxious drunks occupied at the tavern.”

“Is that all you do? I can’t really see you making much money at The Lumber Mill”, the Sheriff countered.

“The money’s OK. My house is paid for and I drive an old police cruiser. I don’t really have many bills.”

“Can I come over to your house and look around?”, the Sheriff asked, testing the waters.

Eric knew the ropes of drug enforcement and police work. He wasn’t stupid enough to have anything in his house or car that would point to anything illegal he might have been doing. His bar was clean too. His role in the local drug trade was really one of arbiter and enforcer, keeping the peace so to speak, and no one really knew that he was the one pulling the strings. Cash drops and anonymous tips to the police was the way he played the game.

“Sure, come over for a beer. We can all go over to The Lumber Mill now if you like. I’m sure that some kind of police presence would be a good thing at the bar that is in free for all mode.”

“Joe Cross said that his wife has been keeping the peace down there”, Denton said to Eric.

“We’ll head over to your place in a few minutes Eric, first I want to see if you can shed any light on something we found up in the woods”, the Sheriff said, putting the fingerprint report on the table.

Eric looked at the paperwork in the folder. He saw that there was a fingerprint match on a piece of evidence listed as an ammo box, but he knew that before they drug him in here.
“Looks like someone found one of my old ammo boxes. I sold about twenty of those at a garage sale I had this summer when I cleaned out my shit.”

“Why did you have twenty ammo boxes?”, Denton asked.

“I got them for free from an old, crazy vet. He used them to store magazines, paper magazines, like People and Scientific American.”

“Do you have any left?”, the Sheriff asked.

“Yes, I have ten I think. I have some tools and car parts in them. Free storage boxes, and they keep everything dry. I sold a few of them to a guy that want to use them for geocaching and the rest to random people that came to my sale. My prints can’t be the only ones on the box.”

“Let’s look at the report”, the Sheriff said, grabbing the folder and reading the analysis.

“Doesn’t say here, but let’s just assume that one of your customers put that box up in the woods. Why would they do that?”

“Well, if it was the geocaching guy, I suppose to make other people hunt for it.”

“Denton, do you know anything about geocaching?”, the Sheriff asked the deputy.

“I’ve never done it. It’s like a scavenger hunt that people do with GPS navigation units, it’s an internet thing”, Denton said.

“Have you ever done it Rick?”, the Sheriff asked.

“I have not. I’ve seen the web site. It looks like it might be fun if you like to tramp around in the woods.”

“So, you’ll let me and Denton come over to your house tonight? Just a friendly look see”, the Sheriff said.

“You betcha. Can we just drop by the bar first? I want to see what’s happening.”

“Not a problem. That will give Denton a chance to hit the Jack in the Box anyway”, the Sheriff said smiling at deputy Denton.