<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="color: #FFBF40">Betty Richardson</span></span></span></div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="https://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Admin/BkFill/Default_image_group/2011/11/18/1321638328207/A-women-smoking-inside-a--007.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/>Betty had to refrain from snorting at Phil's observation, watching as the scene unfolded between the Sheriff and Michale.<span style="color: #FFBF40">"Bob sure is a mean dog, ain't he..."</span>Betty muttered as she shook her head. Bob really just needed to be thrown in the darkest of closets and left there.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold">***</span></div><br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #BF4000"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Michale Lawrence</span></span></div></span><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="https://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/4b/de/c4/4bdec4b643af08f361568747629d8ac1.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><br/>Michale wasn't sure if he'd be able to just let it go. Bob was looking like one cocky son-of-a-bitch and Michale was sore enough to say something about it.<span style="color: #BF4000"> "You know Bob, ya sure are full of hate, aren't ya? You're a piece of shit, Bob. You really fuckin' are,"</span>Michale's voice dripped  with venom and obvious pain. Bob had no reason to tell him that it was a body back there, and yet he had with a smile. The man was a real sicko. Bob seemed insulted and Michale was glad for it,<span style="color: #BF4000"> "Fuck you, Bob..." </span>he said one last time.<span style="color: #BF4000"> "Thank ya Sheriff, I do think I'll be goin'..."</span>with that, Michale stormed to his truck, hopping in and starting it. His foot stomped on the gas pedal, moving around into the grass like another deputy had suggested.<br/><br/>Unfortunately it gave him the perfect view of the supposed body, and Michale had to keep himself from vomiting. He was almost positive that that was the shirt Sarah had last worn, but the body was only a torso and he hoped that he was mistaken. Dust followed his truck as he drove off, tears pricking at his eyes. Sarah was dead, he just knew it.