Coontail Myster Part II

It rained like it was the end of the world for three days straight. Then it just rained like it normally did in the winter on the Washington coast, always. Little could be done other than interview witnesses, checking out both vehicles involved in the accident and filling out reports. The whole thing was a big stinking pile of nonsense. No one knew anything. No one had seen anything. And he had only a few disjoined clues.
Barett sat at his old oak desk in the little sheriff’s office, his head bowed down in his propped up hands, thinking. The one of the two florescent lights flickered incessantly on the papers Barett had been reviewing and writing up. A cup of now cold coffee was used as a book propped, which lay half open and forgotten at the side. He wasn’t finding any answers there other than the guess that someone was playing the role of ‘Captain Hook.’ The girl, Luz Millican was her name, had died from two puncher wounds found just bellow her sternum. It wasn’t a knife that had punched her because the path had curved upward into her heart. Curved like a hook. She had killed in her nightgown and had some bloodied flowers, posies to be exact, found in her pockets.

Ring a-ring o' roses,
A pocketful of posies.
a-tishoo!, a-tishoo!.
We all fall down

Or the other way he knew it,

Ring around the rosies,
A pocketful of posies.
ashes, ashes.
We all fall down!.

He had liked her. She was a smart girl with potential. She was good looking too. Give her one more year and if he cared enough he would seriously have thought about pursuing a relationship. But he had left and really didn’t care if he would have seen her again or not. She was just another girl. But now she had shown up dead 200 miles away from Everett to a town no one should know about and no one should know he was here. Maybe it was coincident but he didn’t believe that. It felt like someone was after him.
The front door slammed open. Barett looked up from his desk to watch the familiar figure of Melissa, cloaked in her dark green poncho come in, dripping wet but happy.
“Here is your toxicology report.”
She pulling off the poncho and hung it on the hat & coat rack next to the door, adding to the abundant puddle of water that was dripping from a leak in the roof. She walked over and dropped the open packaged like a bombardier on his desk and then took the seat opposite him. Melissa leaned back on the wooden chair like she always did and banged her feet up on the desk while Barett took the report.
The data didn’t tell him anything. There was nothing unusually in her. He had expected drugs or something but she was clean. This was frustrating.
He looked up.
Melissa was smiling at him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What do you mean me?”
“Look at you. Barett Coontail the local sheriff all serious and up in a huff about some death.” She smiled big. “You are full of surprises.”
He had opened his mouth to say something back when the phone, a black rotary model of all things, rang.
“Hello”
“Sheriff, come quick!” a shaky male voice replied.
“What is it Jed?” Barett had recognized the mailman’s voice.
“Some uns been all hunged up and killed.”
“Where are you at.”
“Out here on Old Wa 9 at Bob’s place on the lake.”
Barett knew the place. It is a real nice house just east of the Amanda Park.

What does he do and what does he take? Does Melissa come with him?