The sheriff walks up to an old taverned building with a wooden barn style door.

He inhales as he stares up at the entrance the building, gently, he pushes the doors open before entering.

"One of your finest drinks please, Mary." The man raises his hand to signal the bar maiden as the door closes behind him.

"Coming right up, sheriff." A woman calls from behind the bar's counter, she wore a blue  dress with a white apron over top of it. She has auburn red hair that rests gently upon her shoulders as the rest drape down her back.

She smiles as she places a glass mug that she had been drying down onto the counter, she wipes her hands on her apron before swiftly moving towards where the clean glasses sat ready to be used.

Mary picks up a clean glass and walks over to the pump, she places it under the spout and gently pulls the handle towards her. The corners of her mouth spiral inwards to form a slight grin as the golden liquid pours out from the spout and into the glass mug below. She tilts the mug ever so slightly so that the sweet alcohol hits the side of the mug and trickles down, nicely pooling in the bottom of the glass.

"How's work, sheriff?" The woman pulls the lever up as the liquid begins to reach the mug's limits.

"It's been quite quiet lately," the man sits down on a bar stool and leans his arm against the counter of the bar. Mary pulls the mug of alcohol out from under the spout and walks towards where the sheriff is sitting.

Before she hands it over, the woman takes a butter knife out of one of the pockets on her apron and pushes the excess foam off of the top with the flat side of the knife.

"How about you?" The glass clinks lightly against the counter as the woman sets it down in front of the man.

"Just the same old, same old." Mary smiles lightly as she lets out a light sigh. She then wipes her hands on her apron, trying to dry them from any liquid that might have escaped from the glass during transit.

Suddenly the doors of the bar fly open and a short, stout, man barges in. He huffs and puffs and wheezes loudly, using the door for some much needed support. His head is down as he stares at the ground, trying to catch his breath. Slowly, he lifts his head and spots the sheriff. He then runs to the man and grabs a stool next to him to sit down upon.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!" The man huffs some more as he leans his left elbow against the counter of the bar, trying to stabilize himself.

"Bob, what's wrong?" The sheriff looks at him and leans back a bit on the stool, a concerned look forms upon his face as he lifts his drink up to his mouth to take a sip.

"It's lil' Betty!" The man exclaims frantically, he looks to the counter of the bar and grabs an unclaimed drink. He then lifts the drink to his mouth and begins to chug its contents.

Mary takes a cloth out of another pocket on her apron and begins to wipe down the bar's counter. All while she casually eavesdrops on the two male's conversation.

"What about about Miss Betty?" The sheriff straightens up in his seat. He pulls the mug from his lips and slowly places it down upon the counter of the bar.

"A child was found, dead, in the park." Bob replies as he slams his now empty glass down on the bar's counter. "An' they think it's lil Betty." He leans towards the sheriff and grabs his glass, raises it to his mouth, and dumps the rest of its contents into his face hole.

"Oh no." The sheriff brings his hand to his mouth, trying to take in the news.

"Are you alright, Sheriff?" Mary stops wiping the counter and looks up at him.

"Y-yeah." The sheriff stands up quickly and upsets the stool. "I-I better check this out," he side steps away from the over turned stool and stumbles towards the door. "S-sorry Mary, but I'll pay you back later!" The man quickly runs out of the bar and heads towards the park.

Violence and brutality are common in his town, especially since the rise of unemployment began, but he could never imagine that someone would be so cruel as to hurt a child.

***

The mid-afternoon sky lights up the darkened alley way where people have gathered.

A woman is held by an older looking man, she cries into his jacket for her child has been brutally murdered. The man just stares at the body that lays under a drape, hoping, praying that this is all a dream and his little Betty will sit up and smile at him, like she's done so many times before.

"Mr. and Mrs. Richards." The sheriff calls, waving his right hand in the air as he approaches the scene.

The older man turns his head towards the sheriff as his eyes follow suit, he wants to smile, but his pain stricken heart prevents him from doing so.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss." The sheriff brings his right hand to his heart as he reaches out with his left hand, gently placing it upon Mrs. Richards' shoulder.

Mrs. Richards wipes her tears on her husband's jacket before she turns to face the sheriff.

"I loved your Betty like she was my own." The sheriff speaks in a calm manner as his eyes look directly into Mrs. Richards' eyes. "I will find whoever did this to your daughter and make sure they receive the suitable punishment for this. You can count on me, Justice will be served!"

A small, tiny, smile tries to creep upon Mrs. Richards' face, but the pain of losing her only child stops it from forming.

"Thank you, Sheriff." Mr. Richards holds out his left hand for a shake as his right gently holds onto his wife.

The sheriff cracks a slight smile as he reaches out with his left hand and shakes the man's rough hand.

The two males then casually part the handshake and bring their hands back to their sides.

The Richards grin lightly as Mr. Richards gently wraps himself around Mrs. Richards before the two slowly walk home.

The sheriff waits patiently while he grins like an idiot as the couple graciously return to their abode. Once the Richards have left the sheriff's line of sight, he reaches deep into his coat's pockets and pulls out a slightly crinkled notepad and a wooden lead pencil.

"Bob!" The sheriff calls out to his shorter partner as he holds the notepad out in front of him.

"Yes sir?" Bob runs over to the sheriff, slightly out of breath.

"Check out all the places that Miss Betty went to before her untimely death." The sheriff casually turns around, tapping his pencil against his plush pink lips. "Also," he stops and holds up his pencil. "Book all the people she encountered for interrogations. I want to know what exactly went down last night." He brings his pencil back down to his notepad and begins writing something on the top page.

"Yes sir! I'm on it!" Bob raises his hand to his forehead and salutes. He then turns before running off towards the Richards' household.

The sheriff walks around the crime scene, trying to figure out what happened. He kicks over a few rocks and walks over to one of the alley walls, he raises his hand up to it before gently placing that hand against it.

The cool, brick wall warms under his palm.

"Hmm." He gently taps his pencil against the wall before he turns around to the body laying under the mahogany drape. He takes a step towards it and squats down as he reaches out towards the drape.

"Mr. Sheriff?" A voice sounds from behind the man which causes him to jolt around to face the face of the voice.

The sheriff's eyes widen as his skin turns pale, he slowly begins to rise to his feet.

"M-miss Betty? You're alive?" His voice shakes a bit in disbelief before he quickly glances back at the body under the drape.

"It's funny, I don't feel anything anymore. What happened?" The ghostly figure speaks softly as the sheriff reaches out to it, checking to see if it's real. His eyes widen a bit more as his hand seemlessly goes through the ghostly image.

"You're dead, and I'm trying to figure out who killed you." He slowly brings his hand back and rubs his chin with that hand, "do you remember anything?"

The ghostly figure shakes it's head before looking down at the covered body. "No, I don't remember a single thing. I'm sorry sheriff."

"I-it's okay."