https://www.literotica.com/s/without-a-whisper Part 1 Friday -- April 10, 2020: The Morning Of 3 -Chase Kramner- 4 Darkness greets me when I open my eyes. Darkness so profound, for a moment, I believe my eyes are still closed. My head is throbbing, like I was struck on it. While it probably was, I know this feeling and what it's from. This is the headache you get when you get taken down by a carotid choke hold. My late friend Nathan White demonstrated this restraining technique during a combatives class. If done correctly, the suspect will be unconscious in seconds. 5 I notice my wrists are restrained behind my back, but my feet are free. Not like you can tie down a man with one leg. I'm in a tight, dark space. And I'm moving. Tires are running over a road. I hear the vibration and rumble of an engine that kicks a little from not being driven for so long. I'm in the trunk of a car. 6 Is it my car? I roll and kick to size up my space. Not my car, this trunk is too small. There is a small lip to the back of the back seats. A narrow space barely large enough to crawl through. Something circular shaped it near my face. It's where the spare tire goes. After establishing a few basic dimensions of my confinement, I know exactly where I am. 7 I'm in the trunk of a 1964 Buick Skylark. 8 The ropes at my wrists are tied well enough to contain me. I'm confident I can free my hands if given enough time, but I don't know how much time I have. My fingertips can touch them, so I feel the texture. Nylon. Deck rope. It has some give, but not enough to tug my wrists through even after rotating them back and forth several times. 9 The terrain changes, and I feel us driving uphill, steep, and I roll backwards. We're not on a road anymore. I hear crunching and small rocks flying up and hitting the under carriage. The car levels off, and I slide back to the center. The brakes screech to a stop, and the driver's door opens. I hear a second car come to a stop behind me. 10 "Put it in neutral and push," a voice says. My head is still fuzzy, and the speaker is muffled from the barrier between us. "You kept the car like a dumbass for a decade, don't care why. Clean up your mess. Then get his car out of here. Don't fuck it up this time." 11 What the hell happened? My brain is still buffering back to life. I can hear the gears shift and the door close. Hands slap the top of the trunk, and I feel movement again. It starts going down a slight downgrade. 12 The car goes faster, and faster, then suddenly, I feel like I'm floating. Oh shit. 13 The car slams into the water, and I bounce around like a pinball. The car drops the rear hard, staying wheels up, and I'm throttled again. I groan in pain from the collision that knocked the sense back into me. I remember how I get here. I don't have time to celebrate as the car sinks beneath the surface. 14 Monday - April 13, 2020: Three Days Gone 15 ~Midge Appletree~ 16 This morning I am jolted awake by my four-year-old body-slamming me. I grunt from the force of him landing on my back and pressing all the air from my lungs. It takes me a moment to realize what is happening before he starts laughing. Adjusting my head so the other cheek is on the pillow, I see my alarm isn't scheduled to go off for another twenty minutes. Who needs an alarm clock when you have a hyperactive toddler? 17 "Battle!" he declares. 18 "Cease fire," I say, and pull the blanket over my face. Shawn pushes against me when he jumps to land between Gianna and me. He pulls at the blanket to find my face, but I hold it firm. 19 "Mommy, battle," he says in the voice only a disappointed child has. 20 "I surrender. The war is over," I mumble. I blame Shane for his persistence. Shane gets him all riled up, and the first few days after spending a week with his father is this. Shane has the energy to engage in battle. I don't. At least not without coffee. Daddy is fun, but Mommy is tired. 21 "Battle!" I hear from the door of our room. I pull the blanket down enough to see Wendy at the door. Shawn stands up on the bed, and I feel him jump off to tackle his sister who catches him. I hear them leaving the room to resume the war elsewhere. 22 "That woman is a goddamn lifesaver," I say to Gianna, who I assume is also awake after that display of childhood. 23 "She's still my little girl," Gianna says, sitting up in the bed. She puts her elbow on the pillow, propping her head upright. Her gorgeous eyes blinking the sleep away. 24 "Keep telling yourself that," I tease, and finally submit to the day. "I'm up." 25 "You wanted a baby. I warned you," she says with a cheeky grin. 26 "I know," I say. I am wholly responsible for my sleep being disrupted. 27 I cancel my alarm, and then stand up to stretch life into my body. A shower is first, so I undress with the bathroom door ajar. While the water warms up, I look at myself in the mirror. Since having a baby, my body has changed, because that tends to happen when you're pregnant. My weight snapped back like a rubber band, which pisses Gianna off. It took her nearly a full year to lose her baby fat each time. Not me. Back to one hundred and ten pounds, and I even got some boobs out of the deal. I'm not a cutting board anymore. Now I'm a cutting board with two grapes on it. 28 The water runs over my body for a few minutes before I grab the loofa and bodywash. Lather and rinse, and then my hair is cleaned with a dual shampoo/conditioner, which my wife says is heresy. Because my hair is short, I don't have to worry about the lengthy process of drying it off while styling it. I wrap a towel around my body, tucked into my newfound cleavage, and I enter the bedroom. 29 Gianna is now sitting up while doing something on her phone. Her long crimson hair is resting on her shoulders like a bonfire. The morning sun is pouring in from the window, and her hair glows. My wife is so sexy in the morning. 30 "What's your day looking like?" Gianna asks, putting down her phone to talk to me. 31 "Still teaching the operational security class at the academy," I reply while rummaging through my drawer for my boy shorts. I've always preferred them over normal panties. 32 The shorts are pulled up to my waist from under the towel. My shirts and pants are on the same hanger, so I take a set off the pole and lay it on the bed. My breasts still don't justify a full bra, but I have invested in sports bras. The towel drops to the floor so I can continue getting dressed. 33 "Don't get dressed too fast," Gianna teases me. 34 "What's on the schedule for you?" I ask. 35 "Hopefully not fishing a condom out of a guy's ass," Gianna says. The glamorous life of an ER nurse. "Not the weirdest thing I've had to dig out of someone's rectum." 36 "Just don't ask me to smell your finger," I say, making her laugh. I cover my breasts in the sports bra and then slip my undershirt on. I remove the dress shirt from the hanger. The bottom of the shirt cuts off at my upper thighs. If I lift my arms, my shorts are visible. 37 "Don't move, that's the look," Gianna says. She is now biting her lip and suppressing an antsy giggle. I wish I had the time to do something with that. 38 "I'll have to remember that," I say. I step over to her, leaning over her body to kiss her. Gianna grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me closer. I climb on the bed and straddle her. 39 My hands hold her face as we kiss. Her hands touch my sides and glide up my shirt and over the bra. She slips her thumbs under the bra and pops my tits out. Our lips disengage, and I feel her warm lips on my nipple. 40 "We don't have time," I wince. 41 "Make time. You're the teacher," she says as her mouth moves to my other breast. Her fingers start rubbing the outside of my shorts, and I grab her hand. "You okay?" 42 "It's not that," I say, making sure she knows it's not my boundaries. "I need to be on time because I'm the teacher." 43 "I hate how responsible you are," Gianna says in faux pouty voice. 44 "One of us has to be," I say, then tilt her head back to kiss her before I resume getting ready. I button up the shirt and then tuck them into the pants after I pull them up my legs. 45 "Locked door tonight," Gianna declares as I sit down to put my socks on. 46 "They can knock all they want," I say, and then kiss her one last time before leaving the room. 47 It sounds like all the kids are up already. Shawn typically wakes up first because that's just what a four-year-old does. Wendy is home for her college's spring break. Preston and Wesley are fighting over something stupid by the sound of it. I trot down the stairs and look at the commotion from the third step. Wendy is playfully being chased by Shawn around the island cabinet while Wesley and Preston are going at it. 48 "Midge," Wesley says, and I turn toward the living room. "Tell him he needs to give it back." 49 "I don't have your stupid retainer," Preston says. Wesley got a retainer last year rather than braces. He's somewhat indifferent and not self-conscious about it. He's just self-conscious about everything else. 50 "Someone took it. Only you would," Wesley snaps back. 51 "Why would I take something you drool on?" Preston asks. Fair question. 52 "It wasn't in the upstairs bathroom. That's where I always put it. Just give it back," Wesley says, nearly in tears. 53 "Where's the last place you saw it?" I ask to calm him down. He's still sensitive and cries easily. I don't have the heart to tell him junior high is going to be rough unless he phases out of that. 54 "In the bathroom," he says. 55 "Which bathroom? I remember you cleaning it after dinner last night," I say, and a lightbulb turns on above his head. Wesley runs into the downstairs bathroom, and low and behold. 56 "Found it!" he shouts to us. 57 "Told you I didn't take it," Preston says, annoyed at the accusation. Wesley comes back with his retainer in his mouth and puts its case into his backpack. Their spring break is next week unlike their sister. She already told us she'd happily watch Shawn for us. Saves us a lot on daycare. 58 "Wes," I say after I finish coming down the stairs. "You accused your brother, and you were wrong." I don't have to tell him anything more than that. 59 "I'm sorry," Wesley says. 60 "Whatever," Preston says, and I grab his arm as he walks by me. He exhales and faces his brother. "Apology accepted." 61 "Thank you," I say, and let him go. Preston may tower over me now, my forehead being to his chin, but he knows who is in charge. 62 With that dispute settled, I go to the kitchen to prepare my coffee. I remember when Wesley used to have a cup ready for me. He doesn't love me any less, but the manner of which he chooses to express it isn't as obvious. 63 "Remember when I was the troublemaker?" Wendy asks. I place my tumbler under the dispenser and close the machine on a new K-cup. 64 "When exactly did you stop?" I ask, and she laughs. 65 Wendy turned out incredible in the end. Preston is the moody one now. Wesley is just older and grew out of always trying to be my favorite. I knew it would happen, but I certainly miss not having to make my own coffee. 66 "You sure you want to watch him?" I ask Wendy as my coffee starts pouring. "I can still drop him off in daycare and you can enjoy spring break like a normal girl." 67 "He's my brother, I don't mind," Wendy says, picking him up and resting him on her hip. "All my old friends aren't on spring break, and Jesse is still in New York." 68 "I thought you two broke up," I say. 69 "We keep telling ourselves that, but every time we try to just be friends," she says, using finger quotes with the hand not holding her brother. "We still end up sleeping together." 70 "Anyone else you're into?" I ask. 71 "At school?" Wendy asks, and I shrug. "No, not really. It's still just Jesse. I just...I don't know if I'm wasting my time with him." 72 "Jesse is a good guy," I say, and she sighs. 73 "He's not the only good guy though," she says. 74 "Good guys are few and far apart. That's why I'm trying to raise three more of them," I say, and playfully bop Shawn on the nose. He giggles and reaches for me to hold him. Wendy hands off my little guy, and I raspberry the meat of his neck, making him laugh while trying to stop me. "Battle's on little dude." 75 "Stop," Shawn laughs. 76 "Never," I say and make a sound like a dog while pretending to bite his neck. I'm already tired. Shane is the kind of guy who can do this all day. He was born to be a dad. Some days, I feel like I was born to be an aunt. "You gonna have fun with your sister today?" 77 "Mmhmm," Shawn says with childlike rapid head nods. 78 "What are you guys gonna do?" I ask. 79 "Umm...I dunno," he says with his shoulders hiked up. 80 "We have a day planned, don't you worry about that," Wendy says, and he tilts his head all the way back to look at her upside down. She then bops his nose too. My coffee finishes, so it's time for mommy to tag out. 81 "Hand off," I say, and Wendy takes him for me. I kiss his cheeks before I step onto the stool next to the fridge to reach the gun safe on top of it. I type in my pin and get my gun, badge, and a discretely hidden pack of cigarettes and lighter. In the process of putting my gun and badge on my belt, I absent mindedly place the pack of cigarettes on the counter. Wendy exaggerates a fake cough, and I look at her. She had grabbed the pack, so her brothers didn't see it. 82 "Thanks," I say, putting them in my pants pocket. She gives me the same disappointed look I used to give her. "I know." 83 "I get it. Stressful job, plus being a cop," Wendy said, and I grin at her. "Just tell me you're trying." 84 "I'm trying," I say. 85 Who the hell starts smoking when they're almost forty? This dumb bitch, that's who. One day I got it from every angle. Shawn being a toddler, seeing our budget include daycare again, work being work, and someone asked if I wanted a cigarette and I said, 'fuck it'. I felt instantly better. For a minute. I wanted that minute again, and here I am. 86 "I need to go. Last hug," I say, and Shawn extended himself across to me and wraps his arms. I make a sound like I'm being squeezed too tight and kiss him one last time. "Love you dude." 87 "Love you mommy," Shawn says. 88 "Bye mom," Wendy says, kissing my cheek before I go to force it out of her brothers. I kiss Wesley's forehead, and Preston kisses mine. The inequity of height is real in this family. 89 I get to my car parked at the curb, and successfully resist the urge to light the first cigarette. What stops me is looking in the rearview and seeing Shawn's car seat. Shawn is sacred, so this car is sacred. There is no smoking at home, or in my car. Wendy is old enough to shame me for it. The boys are way too impressionable. 90 Before I even start the ignition, my phone rings. I arch my back to extend my leg straight so I can pull the phone from my pocket. It's Lieutenant Eastland. I press answer and put the phone to my ear. 91 "Morning boss," I say. 92 "Where are you right now?" she asks. 93 "In my car about to leave my house. What's up?" 94 "I'm covering your class today. You've been summoned. Eighth floor," she says. That's code for the office of the Chief of Police. I've done plenty to deserve that, but I don't know what it was recently. 95 "They say what for?" I ask. 96 "Only that you were summoned. No later than nine," she says. 97 "I'll be there," I say, and we end the call. I start the ignition and check my mirrors before merging with traffic. 98 -- The elevator drops me off at the eighth floor. To the left is executive staff offices. To the right are the deputies. Straight ahead is the big man. Also straight ahead is an FBI agent. An angelic princess with a Glock strapped to her hip. 99 Yvonne Grimsdotter, an FBI agent I met while working one of the most unusual cases of my entire career. I'm openly antagonistic to the Feds, having had more than one of my cases taken by them while I was sitting at the Fraud desk at Property Crimes. I did all the work and they swept in at the eleventh hour to make a federal case out of it. My closure rate suffered for it, and I blame them for my career stagnating before I transferred to Homicide. 100 Yvonne was different. Once I got over her being a Fed we stayed in contact after the case. I don't hold the fact she's an FBI agent against her. No one's perfect. 101 "Special Agent Yvonne Fucking Grimsdotter," I say to get her attention. She turns to me and smiles. 102 "Sergeant Midge Fucking Appletree," she says. 103 And together we say, "And that's not my middle name." 104 "My favorite freakishly tall bitch," I say. We hug it out, and I burrow my face into her cleavage. 105 "My favorite...damn momma's thirsty," Yvonne says with a laugh. I tilt my head back, so my eyes look up at her, but my lips are still hidden. 106 "The only thing momma has motorboated in the last month is the belly button of a four-year-old. Do not take this from me," I say, my voice muffled from her supple bosom. 107 "You get one good one," she says. 108 "Brace yourself. I'm making this count," I say, and motorboat the shit out of her boobs. Don't tell her boyfriend. All kidding aside, it's awesome to see her. I never imagined I'd be friends with a Fed. Let alone such good friends she understands my need for warm feminine flesh. 109 "What brings you here?" I ask. 110 "Not sure yet. They're talking about a task force right now. For what, who knows," Yvonne says. Even she doesn't know yet. 111 "Who's in there?" I ask. 112 "Chief of Police, the Mayor, and my ASAC," she says, pronounced like the letter a, and the word sack. Assistant Special Agent in Charge. 113 "Sounds big," I say. They're either talking logistics or arguing jurisdiction. I don't hear screaming so it's likely logistics. "I'm eager to work with someone who understands that if I go longer than a minute without profanity, I'm liable to spontaneously combust." 114 "Don't you curse in front of your kids?" Yvonne asks. When it comes to my bad language around the kids, I'm pretty much do as I say, not as I do. 115 "I used too. But then my son's third word was 'fucknugget', so I toned it down a notch." 116 "Isn't that two words?" 117 "Not if you say it fast. Especially after stubbing your toe on the coffee table," I explain. 118 "That warrants a fucknugget." 119 "Stubbing your toe is hell. My podium of horrific shit was getting raped, then stubbing my toe on the coffee table," I say. Yvonne is never sure on how to process most of the things I say. She just understands my need to say them. 120 "Well, that escalated quickly," Yvonne says. The door to the Chief's Office opens. We have been summoned. Yvonne enters the room ahead of me, and as advertised three men are already present. 121 The Mayor Derek Whitaker is standing with his arms folded over his chest. Four years ago, he was the Chief of Police, so walking into this office and still seeing him is like I stepped through a time machine. His very presence exudes authority. He still looks like a cop and has a well-manicured appearance with salted hair not present four years ago. Like a President after his first term. 122 To Derek's left is the current Chief of Police Dean Wu. My friend Jill, who is Derek's wife, used to work with him back in the day, and he has a reputation of being somewhat of a hard ass. I've only met him in passing, but his sense of humor is as spicy as a glass of milk. A short, muscular Asian man pulled straight from a Hong Kong crime drama. 123 Part 2 The third man I don't know, but I'll assume he's the FBI guy. He's wearing a grey suit that just screams he's a federal agent. He's trying to match Derek's intensity, but only looks like a little brother standing next to his older sibling. 125 "Let's get introductions out of the way. I know you two are acquainted, so I'll skip that," Chief Wu says, referring to Yvonne and myself. "This is Sergeant Appletree. She's second in command of our special investigations squad." Special Investigations used to just be a handful of officers. A glorified escort service for federal agencies and an overworked case audit unit. We've expanded thanks to a generous budget increase from our former Chief of Police Mayor. 126 "Assistant Special Agent in Charge Charles Levin," he says, and I shake his hand. "You and Yvonne have worked together in the past?" 127 "The Fredrick Aimer case," I say, and he nods. That case made some headlines. Destroyed the reputation of the former Mayor so thoroughly Derek won the election so soundly there wasn't even a runoff. You're welcome. 128 "I remember that one. Not every day the police find a case and get two men out of prison," Levin says. 129 "It was the strangest case I've ever had to work on," I say. 130 "It's going to get stranger today. Derek, do you want to take the lead?" Levin asks. Derek nods and unfolds his arms. 131 "I bet you two are wondering what's going on?" Derek asks. Neither of us reply. "We're working a missing person case. He's been gone nearly three-days." 132 "Statistically, he's dead," I say. 133 "I hope not," Derek says. 134 "I do too, but that's the cold numbers," I say, and he slowly nods. "So why isn't Missing Persons here? Why am I here and not Kaiser?" My old partner is currently dual hatting as a missing persons detective and the Sergeant for the Homicide section. 135 "It's one of our own. Chase Kramner is missing," Derek says. My predecessor in Special Investigations. He ran the lead on the Fredrick Aimer case after noticing something wrong with several investigations going back nearly fifteen years. Turns out five murders closed separately were committed by the same person. He lost his leg during a different case, medically retired, and married my half-Asian lieutenant before moving to the country with their son. 136 "I like Chase as much as anyone else," I say, knowing full well Chase is a hard person to like. I'm one to talk. "But why does he warrant an FBI task force?" 137 "Mr. Kramner's father is a federal appellate judge for the DC court of appeals," Levin replies. They're treating it like a potential kidnapping. "And we have reason to believe the circumstances of his disappearance travel through multiple states. State lines grants us jurisdiction. Derek and I go back a few years, I'm roping you in as a person who knows how Mr. Kramner operated." 138 "Alright, that makes sense," I say. "What was he doing when he vanished?" 139 "Working for me," Derek says, and the room turns to him. "I have an old file of missing person cases that went cold. I hired Chase to put his PI license to work." 140 "Since when is Chase a private investigator?" I ask. 141 "About six months ago he got his license. Last I knew he was working the disappearance of a teenaged girl named Katie Grossman. He called me last week to tell me he may have found some leads and was pursuing them. There was a trail I missed, back when I initially investigated it. Cases pile up, pressure is applied, and you know what it's like when your Captain tells you to let it go cold." Damn right I do. "New evidence came up in the case. A gun." 142 "A gun?" I ask. 143 "Katie Grossman stole some valuables from her parents before she disappeared. I recovered all of it at various pawn shops across the city, but the only item I never found was the gun. Didn't figure I would either, not exactly easy to fence, and no one would admit they bought it. A few months ago, that gun was discovered in an artificial pond that was drained for property development. Nearly ten years later." 144 "That's not cold: that's absolute zero," I say. 145 "Chase was looking into it. Searching for a missing person only to become a missing person himself. I don't like that kind of coincidence," Derek says. Neither would Chase. He would say he believed in coincidences, just not a dozen of them. 146 "Let me speculate," I say to begin, and watch Levin posture like he's about to listen. "Because of his dad, you're treating it like a ransom situation? You got audio techs, calls tracers, whatever, at his house, his dad's office?" 147 "All correct. A team of investigators are also going through his father's cases for the last few years for any leads. We also have an HRT unit on standby," he says. Hostage and Rescue Team. They are not fucking around. 148 "Where is the task force going to be situated?" I ask. 149 "Right next door. You guys have the entire conference room. Techs have already forwarded all calls to that room. There is already a team in there," Chief Wu says. "What I need for you to do right away, is head to Chase's house. Clear out his office, find out what he had found on the Katie Grossman case. His wife should be cooperative, but we got a warrant to cover all our bases." 150 I follow Chase's case, I follow his movements. I follow his movements, I find Chase. 151 "I got a child seat in the back of my car..." 152 "...take a van in case you're carrying more than you expect," Chief Wu says, reading my mind. 153 "Special Agent Grimsdotter is your partner on this. Play nice," Derek says, and looks at Chief Wu. "Sorry." 154 "What he said," Chief Wu says. He looks mildly irritated Derek forgot what his job was for a moment. 155 -- Friday - March 27, 2020: Two Weeks Before 156 -Chase Kramner- 157 It's a strange feeling to be on the hunt again. The feeling when I start closing in on something. When all the pieces start coming together, and the image of the puzzle begins to take shape. 158 There is no correct way to build a puzzle. The strategies are merely different. I like to start with the frame. The easy pieces first. The facts you know. The things that will hold the rest of it in place. From the frame, you can extend inward, until you reach the middle. At the middle is the truth. 159 I've been building the frame since October, when Derek gave me the puzzle. I retraced his steps, starting when the case landed in his inbox, and what he would have known from the start. Katie Grossman was a sixteen-year-old girl who stole her mother's jewelry, some electronics, other items of varying value, and her father's gun. Derek had found the missing valuables at three pawn shops throughout the city. In total, she could have had around $3000. A necklace from her mother was worth $700 by itself. The gun was not found at the time. Katie Grossman then simply vanished. 160 The gun was found in October of last year. Ten years after her disappearance. A Smith & Wesson Model 442 with a satin nickel finish and an ergonomic rosewood grip. A five-round revolver loaded with four rounds of .38 police special, and one shell. It had been fired at least once. There must be a story behind that. 161 The components of the gun were somewhat eroded due to being submerged. Even rust resistant materials are not rust immune. The nickel plating, aluminum alloy frame, stainless steel barrel, and carbon steel cylinder, are all relatively resistant. This helped preserve the serial number, even after someone tried to file it off. The different rates of corrosion due to the differing materials was beneficial for comparative analysis. The gun was sent to a metallurgist to determine how long ago it was thrown into the pond. Katie Grossman went missing on 10 July 2009, and they said the gun could have been in there for ten years. Not long after Katie went missing. 162 Covering my bases, I took a road trip out to the where the gun was found. The land was being used to build houses, and when I arrive, I see a new neighborhood taking shape. Various houses at different levels of construction. Some complete with families already moved in. Some marked only by a slap of freshly dried concrete. An artificial pond was here just a few months ago, where a gun had been hidden for ten years. 163 Early in my reinvestigation of the case, I was convinced I was looking for a body. 164 After the information on the gun came back, I dug into the available information on the rest of the stolen goods. One of the three pawn shops was no longer open, the former owner of another was deceased, and the third unsurprisingly didn't remember. He spoke to the police nearly every day about stolen items for years. Derek coming in about a stolen cellphone wouldn't even register in his short-term memory. 165 One interesting thing of note was that the pawn shops never reported anything suspicious about the items. Katie provided the shops with evidence of purchase in the form of receipts. Interviews with her parents revealed that her mother had retained nearly every receipt from every purchase going back over a decade. Katie simply found the correct receipts. Derek highlighted in his notes that this suggested Katie had been planning to runaway for some time. I agreed with him. 166 Derek had dug into her school and personal life as much as he could. Katie had a friend named Angela Dobbs who stated she didn't know why Katie would have run away. Derek had written in his notes about her demeanor being defensive and withholding. He was never able to go back and re-interview her because he was ordered to let the case go cold. Another friend named Leland Bach stated the same and she was also evasive. After the first interview, her parents hid her behind a lawyer. The girls knew something, so I looked deeper into them. 167 After Missing Persons shelved the case, an interesting development Derek wouldn't have had any sight on occurred; Leland's father filed a grand theft auto report to the police. Vincent 'Vinny' Bach is the owner of a used car dealership named Your Cousin Vinny. Vinny had reported one of his cars missing from the lot in September 2009. On the lot he had a refurbished 1964 Buick Skylark with metallic mint-green paint and a white convertible top. The same car from the film My Cousin Vinny, hence the name of his business, though the man isn't Italian. The car was proudly displayed in the front of the lot, but not for sale. Not only was it missing, it had been replaced by a refurbished 1963 Pontiac Tempest, also with metallic mint-green paint and a white convertible top. Another car featured in the film whose similar appearance causes the misidentification of Joe Pesci's cousins for a murder trial. Vinny Bach claimed he noticed immediately, but I believe he was saving face. 168 The Pontiac was eventually found to have been owned by Angela Dobbs's father, Alvin Dobbs, who had purchased the car from Mr. Bach some years prior. The investigator for the case was Detective Frank Blanchard, the old partner of my ex-girlfriend Lauren Hill. The investigation never found a hard connection, mostly due to Mr. Bach's insistence he noticed immediately. Because the timeline was so scrambled, no one could make heads or tails of it. My theory is simple: Angela Dobbs and Leland Bach helped their friend runaway by getting her a car. Whether they intentionally planned on creating a clusterfuck surrounding that aid, is up to speculation. 169 Local press, where most of my information came from, got a hold of the theft and it had developed into something of a local legend. The thief has never been identified. It is still known as the My Cousin Caper. Joshua Winters had written the original story and follow-ups when it happened but could never reach Frank Blanchard for comment. 170 My deal with Jenn was that this PI thing isn't a full-time job. I'm always to be a husband and a father first. Holding myself to that deal is why my progress on this case has been slow. After nearly six months, I've gathered enough facts to start asking the right questions to the right people. 171 -- The first thing I do in the morning is get my miles in. It's almost exactly a mile and a half to an intersection at the end of my street. Three miles round trip. I take the long walk up my dirt driveway to the house. We went with a ranch style home because stairs and a lower limb amputee does not mix. The only stairs are the porch. My water bottle is where I left it at the top of the stairs. I sit on the top step, and drink while catching my breath. 172 I look over my shoulder, and don't see Nathan. My son usually wakes up about this time, and knows he'll find me on the porch after my run. Not today. I finish the water and enter the house. Curious, I peek my head into his bedroom and see Nathan soundly asleep. He's named after my friend who died the same day I lost my leg. 173 Before showering I start cooking breakfast for Jenn and Nathan. I started cooking to stave off the boredom of my medical retirement from the police. I learned to love it and do it more for fun now. Jenn asked me to keep the menu a surprise, and I change it up every so often. I'm always on the lookout for interesting new recipes. 174 I feel Jenn behind me. Her belly pokes into the small of my back, and her lips kiss my neck. Turning around, I kiss her, and hold my hand over her pregnant stomach. When we were trying for Nathan, we had ovulation calendars and other aids. We got pregnant so fast we had a false negative. We would occasionally discuss a second baby and concluded maybe another year or two. Oops. 175 "Good run?" Jenn asks. 176 "Gets the day started," I reply. I would hand her a cup of coffee, but Jenn avoided caffeine when pregnant with Nathan, and is going through her old program. She has instructed me to not tempt her. 177 "You hear that?" Jenn asks, and I listen. All I hear is the sound of cooking, so shake my head. "Exactly." Nathan isn't awake. He's what I don't hear. "I don't remember the last quiet morning." 178 "We should wake him up, he's grumpy when he oversleeps," I say. Jenn closes her eyes to enjoy the silence, but nods to agree. 179 "You still planning on going into the city?" Jenn asks. 180 "Yeah. Starting to get some headway on that case. I've got a few people to interview. They didn't reply to calls, hoping to do some ambushing," I say, and she nods. 181 "We'll all ride up together, make a day of it. I'll hang out with some friends and do some shopping I can't do out here," Jenn says. Jenn loves living here, but she does miss some things about living in a city. The shopping choices being one of them. 182 -- Nathan is plenty grumpy when we wake him up for breakfast. So grumpy, he refuses to eat. He then complains about being hungry ten minutes after breakfast. I counted on that happening so kept his plate in the microwave for when he was ready. I shower before Jenn and soon the family is ready for a trip to the city. Jenn drops me off in front of the police HQ, and I kiss them both before she departs. 183 It's a professional courtesy for a private investigator to inform the local police that they are investigating in their jurisdiction. I report to the front desk to let the officer know, and while I'm there I feel a slap on my back. 184 "What are you doing here?" William Kaiser asks. My old partner. He finally lost his battle with hair loss and decided to shave it bald. Still has the mustache goatee. Everyone calls him The Kaiser like the old German kings. Cops are often endowed with a nickname, for good or bad. I was assigned Ivy League back in the day because my alma mater was Dartmouth. 185 "Working," I say, and we knocked knuckles. "You wouldn't happen to know if Frank Blanchard still works here?" 186 "Blanchard? Property Crimes?" The Kaiser asks, and I nod. "Nah, he retired a few years ago. I'll ask around on my way up, see if I can get you a number. What's it about?" 187 "Old case he investigated might be related to a case I'm working," I say. 188 "PI stuff?" he asks, and I nod. "I'll look into it. How's Jenn?" 189 "Pregnant," I say. 190 "Congrats man," he says with a smile. "Three girls between Abigail and I, we're done." I laugh. "You in town just for the day?" 191 "Gathering what I can, then heading home." 192 "Let's get some dinner. I know Abigail would love to see Jenn again." 193 "Definitely. I'll call you later," I say. We knock knuckles one more time before he heads to the elevators. 194 After checking in with the police, I take a moment to walk the line of heroes. A collection of retired badges to honor the service of officers who died in the line of duty, though dying isn't a requirement, it's just the most common reason. It takes only a minute to find the one I'm looking for. SWAT Sergeant Nathan White. My son's namesake. 195 "Looking good paratrooper," I say, and gentle touch my knuckles to his badge. He was Air Force Pararescue. I just called him a paratrooper to bust his balls. 196 I exit the building and look at my phone. I saved the last known work and home addresses for Angela Dobbs and Leland Bach and tried calling them again. It goes to voicemail for both. I leave messages and decide to go to their places of work. Both still live in the city, and according to social media, have remained in contact with each other. 197 I take the bus over to the financial district where Leland works at a brokerage firm. I'm the lone casually dressed man in a sea of young professionals. Her building is easy to find, and I approach the security at the front desk. They know by looking at me that I don't have an appointment with anyone. 198 "Looking for someone. Leland Bach. She should work here," I say. The receptionist states she cannot provide me with information about employees. I ask if she could make a call to see if she was willing to come down and meet me here. She asks me to have a seat, and that she will try. 199 The lobby has several couches and chairs to maximize the comfort of guests waiting on appointments. The magazines are up to date. The television is playing the news, and I watch it for a minute before my phone chimes. The Kaiser got me Blanchard's number. 200 "Yes?" I hear a voice ask, and I turn to it. I recognize her from social media. Leland Bach. She's somewhat overweight but is cute. Straight blonde hair that hangs just over her shoulders. Business professional clothing. 201 "Leland Bach?" I ask. 202 "Yes." 203 "Chase Kramner. I'm a private investigator," I say, handing her one of the cards I had made up. Chase Kramner, Investigator. I wanted to put my rate of a cup of coffee and a handshake on the card, but Jenn told me not to. 204 "Are you the one who has been calling me?" she asks, and I nod. "What about?" 205 "Katie Grossman," I say, and she flinches back. That name hit her like a bolt of electricity. "You got a minute?" 206 "I don't know where she is," Leland says. 207 "I didn't figure you would, but could I have a few minutes of your time?" I ask. 208 "Why are you looking into it? That was ten years ago." 209 "Someone asked me to," I say, and she blinks. She's deciding whether it's too suspicious if she doesn't talk to me. She wants to talk, because she doesn't know where she is, and wants to know what happened to her friend. Katie wasn't supposed to completely vanish. 210 "I got a minute," Leland says. I gesture for a chair, but she shakes her head. "Not here. There's a coffee place next door. I want to get someone else there too." Who could that be? A lawyer? 211 Leland noticed my leg as we walked to the café next door. She said she'd order so I could sit down. I wear modified pants where the bottom half is removed so my prosthetic doesn't get caught in the fabric. I tried to wear normal pants and jeans, but after too many faceplants, Jenn went full wife on me. 212 Leland returns with three drinks, and says the person joining us will be here soon. She asks if I've learned anything about Katie, and I shake my head, holding onto the gun being found for now. The reason I'm here is to hopefully get a few more pieces of the puzzle. The third person arrives within ten minutes. A woman with dyed platinum hair. She introduces herself as Angela Hertzberg, maiden name Dobbs. 213 Part 3 I have always preferred to interview people independently. When people are together, they can take cues from each other and hold a fake story easier than me picking them apart separately. I'm not a cop anymore. The two don't show reluctance in speaking with me. Quite the opposite. They seem somewhat overjoyed that someone finally cares about what happened to their friend. 215 "Was something about Katie found?" Angela asks first. I nod. 216 "Her gun," I say, and they look at each other. They knew about it. "Did you know she brought one with her?" I know they know, but I still need to ask. 217 "We did," Angela says for the two of them. 218 "Why did she run away?" I ask. They look to each other again. Not to psychically discuss how much they tell me, but what to start with. "I'm not a cop. Any crime that was committed is likely well past statute of limitations anyway." 219 "Katie was pregnant," Leland says. Nothing in the original case had any indication of that. Her parents never mentioned it. Not even the women sitting across from me. 220 "Was she leaving to get an abortion?" I ask. It's a dumb question, because in this state it wouldn't have mattered. Dumb questions need to be asked right along with the smart ones. 221 "No, her parents were trying to force her to get one," Angela says. "She didn't want that. I even told her to get one, but she was adamant for some reason. I wasn't even aware she was dating someone or was with someone just one time. I believed she would have told me something about that, but she never did. She never told me who the father was." 222 "Me neither," Leland says while shaking her head. 223 "So, you helped her run away?" I ask, and they look at each other, then nod in unison. "Why didn't you help the police?" 224 "She didn't want to be found. We helped because it sounded more like she was asking us to help her run away from someone in particular. Her parents maybe, but she never told us who. It was like she was ashamed of it." 225 "That sounds like a better reason to help the police," I say, and they look down into their laps. They were teenagers in over their heads, and now realize what I just said was what they should have done in retrospect. "That aside, how'd you guys pull off the My Cousin Caper?" 226 Their heads snap upright. They don't have to say they did it for me to know they did. They're trying to hold back smiles now. It is a little funny to finally get caught. 227 "What prompted that flash of brilliance?" I ask, matching their smiles. If I show it's funny too, they're more likely to brag about it. 228 "That was my idea," Angela says after a moment to remember what I said about statute of limitations. "Katie didn't have her own car, and she couldn't take her parents because it would have been noticed right away. Her parent's cars were expensive. They had a tracker in them in case someone stole it." 229 "Why the Buick?" I ask. "Why not just take the Pontiac? Why take the chance with the swap?" 230 "Because only the exterior of the Pontiac was finished. It could handle around the block, but not an extended drive," Angela explained. "My dad was a reservist in the Army at the time. He was on active orders deployed to the Middle East, and my mother never went in the garage. No one would notice the car was stolen for at least six months. I worked on the car with my dad, so I knew my fingerprints would be incidental. I'd be a suspect, but they could never prove it. Who'd pursue charges if they could? My dad?" 231 "You swapped the Pontiac with the Buick, because the latter could make the drive?" I ask, and they nod in unison again. 232 "That was the plan," Leland said. "I figured my dad would notice eventually. Maybe a week but give Katie a decent head start. We didn't figure it'd take him two months." 233 "But because he swears up and down he noticed immediately, the police could never figure it out because Katie was two months gone. A detective did talk to us, but he was trying to make us admit it was a prank. When the Buick never turned up, he started to believe something else and never spoke to us again," Angela says. "I had never even heard of the movie My Cousin Vinny until the detective brought it up." 234 "You should watch it, it's great," I say, and she lets me know she did shortly afterwards. "Katie stole some stuff from her parents to finance the trip?" I ask, and they do their nodding routine again. "What about the gun?" 235 "Young girl, pregnant, traveling alone. Likely running away from someone she feared," Leland explains, and I nod. Makes sense. It was more of a comfort. Better to have it and not need to use it, than do need it and not have it. 236 "How far along was she?" I ask. 237 "Not sure, she never really told us much about it. She was starting to show a little. So, maybe, two and a half, three months," Angela guesses. 238 "Now I have the how she did it. I still need the why and where," I say, and they look at each other, then shrug. "Come on." 239 "She didn't tell us. She said she'd contact us after she got there. Let us know she arrived safely. She probably assumed we'd be asked, so never told us," Angela says. Katie wanted them to have plausible deniability. Her eyes start to moisten with tears. "She never called." 240 "What else did she bring with her?" I ask. I don't let myself get hung up on certain questions. I can always come back. "Besides the gun and the money from the pawn shops?" 241 "Some clothes," Leland says, trying to think. 242 "Records," Angela says, and sniffs hard to clear her snot. 243 "Records?" I ask. 244 "Like music. Vinyl. Katie collected them." 245 "How many?" 246 "A dozen maybe. She carried them in a plastic milk crate," Angela says, the last part of her sentence distorted from her phlegm. 247 "If you had to guess where she would go," I say, circling back around to repeat questions I don't have satisfactory answers for. 248 "Maybe her real dad who lived in upstate New York," Angela said. 249 "Wait..." I say, and they thankfully get ahead of me. 250 "She lived with her mom and step-dad Tom. She kept her father's last name, but their last name was Hollinger," Leland said to help fill in my gaps. I'm really losing my edge if I overlooked Tom being her stepfather. I'm curious on who she was scared of, and a stepfather usually fits the bill. 251 "What was Tom like?" I ask. 252 "A fucking dick," Leland says, her eyes narrowing as she said it. "He was more concerned with getting his stuff back than looking for Katie. He was super strict and controlling. Never let her go out. Sometimes he would pick her up at school and Katie would just..." Leland pauses, taking a deep breath, "...she'd be fucking petrified. Not embarrassed your-dad-is-goofy petrified either. I mean fucking terrified to get into the car with him." Leland is now crying too. 253 "You never told the police this?" I ask, and they shake their heads, and then hang them in shame. 254 "I almost didn't want them to find her. If they found her, they'd bring her back. And then what?" Angela asks. 255 I think I have all I need from them. I now have much more to work from than I did at the start. All I wanted was leads, and I have plenty of those now. 256 The women ask me to let them know if I find her. Regardless of what that means. I thank them for their time and apologize for tearing open the wound. After leaving the café, I call Frank Blanchard. It rings twice and he answers. I explain the reason for the call, and he says he's got the time to meet in person at his work. I only have a few questions, so it won't take long. 257 -- Frank Blanchard pulled the pin at exactly twenty years for the pension, and now works as an insurance investigator. He originally had a security supervisor job, but someone offered him a little more money to use his detective skills, so he jumped ship for a bigger paycheck. He's certainly an opportunist, but Lauren held the guy in high regard. Lauren called him 'lazy but honorable'. 258 I take a cab to his work, and when I walk up to the front, he's outside smoking. He offers me one, but I decline. 259 "Which one of my illustrious cases did you want to talk about?" Franks asks as we shake hands. I see his body tilt to look at my leg, and a lightbulb goes off. "You're the dude who got his leg blown off by the Russian Mob." 260 It wasn't exactly blown off. We were transporting a suspect and got ambushed. The van rolled over, and my shin was snapped in the crash. I aggravated it beyond repair in the ensuing shootout in which my friend SWAT Sergeant Nathan White was killed. The suspect got away too, and no one has seen her since. 261 "Sorry," Frank says after I don't reply to the comment. "Anyway, which case?" 262 "I solved the My Cousin Caper for you," I say. Frank keels over in laughter, and then coughs from the cigarette smoke. 263 "That fucking case. That's an oldie. Before you tell me, let me guess," he says, and I raise my eyebrows. "It was the daughters." I figured he knew it the whole time. The father just made it impossible to close. 264 "Yup," I say, and he laughs himself into a coughing fit again. 265 "I fucking knew it," he says while slapping his leg. "How'd you figure it out?" he asks like he honestly believes I did. 266 "They straight up told me less than an hour ago," I say. 267 "Statute of fucking limitations," he says, and I nod. "Where the fuck is the Buick? That's the shit that always bothered me. I thought it was a fantastic prank until the car never materialized. After that, I had to lean on it like it was an insurance scam." I figured that's the reason he stopped talking to the girls. The suspect had shifted to Vincent Bach himself. 268 "I don't know where the car is now," I say, and he shrugs. 269 "Last lead I had, was in Pennsylvania," Frank says. 270 "Pennsylvania?" I ask. 271 "After the car was reported stolen, the VIN number was distributed to neighboring states and added to a BOLO list. I thought it was an insurance scam, because the VIN for the Buick pinged in a repair shop in Pennsylvania. The date when it entered the shop was in fucking July. Two months before the owner reported it. I checked it out, they said some girl owned it, and drove out of town when the repairs were done. I showed the guy the picture of the daughters, but no go." 272 "Did you get a name of the girl?" I ask. 273 "I probably wrote it down, but I don't remember," he says. "The owner said he noticed it gone immediately. I figured the girls were pranking him, but his timeline of the theft gave the girls an alibi. They were with the pep rally squad for the first away game for the high school. They stayed overnight. After I couldn't find it in Pennsylvania, I handed it off to fraud. At that point I was only handling GTA." 274 "Anything else about the case stand out?" I ask. 275 "Not really. It was just funny," he said with a laugh. 276 "Where in Pennsylvania?" I ask. 277 "Not far over the border. I could ask my old colleagues if they can pull up the case file. Bare minimum give you the name of the town." 278 "Anything you can do to help." 279 We bullshit for a minute, and he asks me how Lauren is doing. Last I knew she's still working for the ECTF out in D.C. We tried to get together when I was visiting my dad last Christmas, but she was working. He kills the cigarette under his heel and goes into his building. I clean up his litter and hail another cab, hoping the address for the Hollinger residence is still accurate. 280 -- Monday - April 13, 2020: Three Days Gone 281 ~Midge Appletree~ 282 I sign out a van from the motor pool and Yvonne and I drive up to Chase's home in bumblefuck nowhere. Yvonne demands to play Michael Jackson on the ride up, and I eventually agree to alternate songs so we're both happy. The King of Pop is just not my style. If shuffled into a mix, he's tolerable. To punish me for the slight against her idol, Yvonne is mouthy during my songs, and won't talk during her own. 283 The one instance she talks during her music time is when 'You Rock My World' starts playing. She dances in her seat like it was a club and casually states, "I'm pretty sure my second baby was made to this song." Her two sons are named Michael and Jackson. God help this world. 284 "You fuck to this?" I ask. 285 "I dance to this. I sing to this..." 286 "...please don't..." Yvonne has the body of an angel, not the voice. Karaoke plus four Irish car bombs is not a good mixture. 287 "...I do laundry to this. I clean dishes to this. And I fuck to this." 288 "Part of me still believes the accusations against him," I say. Having a son reinforced that belief. 289 "All of me doesn't care. Believe what you want. I've read thousands of pages of court documents, transcripts, affidavits, sworn declarations, the FBI vault release, everything. You've read retracted tabloids," Yvonne says. Yvonne believes Michael Jackson is innocent, but I'm not sure. Too much weird shit. She makes a compelling case though. Everything I had heard she shot down in exhaustive detail last time we spoke about it. When she says she's read everything, she means it. 290 "What do you fuck to?" she asks. 291 "I don't really bone to music," I say. It's not something Gianna and I do. I think a little more and remember that's not entirely true; it was a thing for Shane and me. Back when we 'kind of' happened. We'd put on some Rolling Stones, Queen, AC/DC, whatever, in the background. We'd make out more than we'd do anything else because he helped me redevelop my boundaries after I was raped. We never had sex, but we did everything just short of that. Even though I still proudly say I'm a lesbian, I don't regret a moment I spent with him. 292 Yvonne is a profiler, so she sees I'm leaving something out. I'm so used to her doing that, I just say it. 293 "Shane and I used to play music," I say. She knows about Shane. So does my wife. "Stones, AC/DC, Queen. You know what I jam to." 294 "Fun fact, without Michael Jackson, there is no 'Another One Bites the Dust' as we know it. He talked the band into releasing it as a single," Yvonne says. I love her little factoids. "Queen I get, but I can't do AC/DC. Middle of getting hot and heavy, then bam, big balls!" Yvonne says, and I laugh out loud. I laugh because it happened. Shane's dick was halfway down my throat and my chin hit his nuts the moment it started playing. 295 "It's a left up ahead," Yvonne says. She's the one following the directions on her phone. I drive past a local sheriff's deputy who is parked in a position to watch the entrance of Chase's driveway. They're taking this seriously. 296 Chase's house stands at the end of a long dirt road. There are two cars in front, and I pull the van to the right. I park with the side door of the van facing his front door, so it'll be easier to load. I step out of the van and stretch. With the minute I have, I dig into my pockets for the cigarettes. 297 "Midge, we got a wife worried about her husband. Talk to her before you light up," Yvonne says from the other side of the van. I turn and see her over the hood. I can only see her because she's so tall. 298 "Fuck. Fine," I say, and shove the pack and lighter back into my pocket. 299 Jenn walks out onto the porch as we walk up the steps. I didn't know she was pregnant. Before she retired, she was briefly my Lieutenant. A strong empathetic leader. Half-Japanese, but you'd be forgiven for believing she was full. We hug for a moment, then she leads us inside. An FBI technician is sitting in her living room monitoring call equipment. It's all routed to our task force room next to the Chief's office, but someone must be present to make sure the equipment is running properly. Nathan sees me and requests a high five. I taught him that. 300 "What do you know?" Jenn asks us. 301 "Not much of anything yet," I say. 302 "Chase was starting to make some progress on that case Derek gave him. An old missing person case," Jenn says. She takes us to Chase's office. I'm not surprised they chose a one-story ranch style. His office is the last room down a hallway. There is plastic sheeting over part of the house for renovation. "We're building an addition for the baby." 303 If I didn't know in advance this was Chase's workspace, I still would have known by looking at it. A large whiteboard with information overload. His timeline is stretched across the board with articles and notes written to fill in gaps. He has question marks to annotate things he speculates rather than having evidence to prove. Chase is the master of organizing chaos. In the corner of the room is a large gun safe. Beside my service pistol, there is only one other gun in my house. Their safe is taller than me, and wider than two of me standing side by side. 304 "This looks like Chase," I say. Jenn nods in agreeance, as does Yvonne. She remembers his addiction to whiteboards to help him streamline his thoughts. Yvonne takes a picture of the board so we can put it back together the same way after we take it apart and move it. 305 "I have to give this to you," I say. I hand Jenn the warrant, and she nods, understanding the need even if we have her permission. Do it by the book so if we get a suspect, the defense lawyer can't pick apart this search. 306 "When was the last time you saw Chase?" I ask. Yvonne starts the evidence collection while I conduct the interview. We agreed to this during the drive. Jenn would be more responsive to me asking the questions. 307 "He started driving to New York five days ago. He got caught up after his tires blew out in Pennsylvania, so had to stay in a town while new tires were being shipped in from Pittsburg," she explains, and write that down. 308 "New York City?" I ask, and she shakes her head. 309 "Upstate New York. Katie Grossman's biological father lives there. Chase concluded after interviewing her old friends that Katie could have been going to her father's." 310 "Okay," I say, then jot that down as well. My eyes scan over the board, and I see a photograph of a car held by a magnet. I recognize the car: 1964 Buick Skylark. Underneath the picture he wrote My Cousin Caper. "He solved that case?" I was in Property Crimes for years, so I know that case. It's a legend in unsolved oddities. 311 "He thinks he did," Jenn says. "Her friends swapped the cars so Katie could get a vehicle. Father claims he noticed it missing right away, but the girls told him the car was taken months before he realized. The VIN number popped up in a town called Whisper, which is where his tires blew out." 312 "I'll be damned," I say, then continue the purpose of the interview. "When was the last time you guys spoke?" 313 "Three days ago. He stopped calling, and now his phone is dead." 314 "What did you guys talk about?" I ask. 315 "He mentioned something about Katie getting stuck in that town too. They both hit a pothole on the way in and needed repairs." 316 "Where was he stuck again?" I ask. 317 "A town called Whisper in Pennsylvania," Jenn says. "Local police there are looking, but they're saying he drove out of the town three days ago." 318 "Then nothing?" 319 "Yes." 320 "Did he sound worried?" I ask. 321 "Nothing like that. He said he was staying an extra day, because like I said, he found something that pointed to Katie Grossman also getting stuck in that town ten years ago," she says. That's a hell of a coincidence. The happenstance of their disappearances is far too suspicious. 322 "Did he take a gun with him?" I ask, pointing to the safe. 323 "Probably, let me check," she says. I patiently wait for her to open the safe. I hear bars snap and watch her pull the door open. I stop counting their weapons when I finish the fingers on both hands. 324 "Jesus. How much would you wager you two have spent on guns?" I ask. 325 "I don't want to know," Jenn says, managing a small laugh. "Some girls collect purses and shoes. I collect guns." 326 "Anything missing?" 327 "Glock44," Jenn says, pointing to an empty slot on her line of semi-auto pistols and revolvers. "It's his favorite for conceal carry." I've looked at that gun as a training gun for the boys and Wendy. It's a .22 about the same size as a Glock19. Concealable, but only just. 328 Part 4 "Caliber?" I ask, just to make sure I'm thinking of the right gun. 330 ".22," she says. I never figured him for a .22 guy. 331 Chase's collection of notes is packed into four boxes. We leave the whiteboard after deciding it's just easier using the pictures to rewrite his handwritten notes. After everything is loaded up, I finally light a cigarette. 332 "Whatcha thinking?" Yvonne asks me. After a moment, she puts her hand out for a cigarette. I toss her the pack and she lights up as well. She's a former smoker, but still smokes socially. "We going to this town? Whisper?" 333 "If we go, we need someone working the case here. You remember Kaiser?" 334 "Of course." 335 "He's MP now, he could run down everything Chase did. Maybe find some stuff he missed," I say, then flick the ash. MP is shorthand for Missing Persons. 336 "Flying or driving?" Yvonne asks. 337 "I'd say drive. That's what Chase did. Pick up his trail the same way he got there," I suggest. Her thoughts exactly. "Let's drop this stuff off. Head out first thing tomorrow." 338 "Sounds like a plan," Yvonne says. 339 We finish the cigarettes and toss the butts into the trashcan outside next to Chase's porch. 340 -- Friday - March 27, 2020: Two Weeks Before 341 -Chase Kramner- 342 Thomas and Ruth Hollinger's address hasn't changed since Katie Grossman ran away from home. It's a large three-story townhouse in a more affluent part of town. At the door I provide my information, and Ruth invites me inside to talk in the living room without reservation when I explain why I'm here. 343 Ruth's once raven black hair has lost all color. This middle-aged woman looks like a sickly grandmother. She is only in her mid-fifties. The skin on her face sags like an oversized mask. Her clothing dangles off her body, her skeletal frame displaying her shirt as if it were held up on a hanger. 344 "I heard they found the gun she took. I was told the police couldn't do anything with that," she says after offering me water or some other beverage. She is drinking wine. It's the early afternoon. 345 "Any evidence on it would have degraded beyond use. It might not even have been her who put it there," I say. Ruth nods along and takes a long drink. 346 "You said you're a private investigator," she asks. I nod. "Who hired you?" 347 "An old detective who worked her disappearance initially," I say. "The gun was the only new piece of evidence in ten years. When a case like this goes cold, it often stays cold. He asked me to explore the recent discovery." 348 "I think I remember the detective. A Wilson, or something. Whitesman?" 349 "Whitaker," I say. 350 "That's the one," she says. She doesn't appear to know he's the Mayor now. 351 "Why did you never tell the police your daughter was pregnant?" I ask. Sometimes you must ease in. Today I'm going in without lube. 352 "She was pregnant? Are you sure? I think I would have known that." 353 "Her friends say you were trying to force her to have an abortion," I say. She looks even more confused. 354 "Those two? Lisa and Ashley?" she asks. 355 "Leland and Angela." 356 "Those two were trouble," she says dismissively. 357 "They said she was about two, maybe three months when she left," I say, and she takes another long drink, finishing her glass. She excuses herself to get more wine. I take the chance to stand up and look around the living room. 358 Expensive and artistic furniture fills the room. On the table between us was a vase with fresh white lilies. When I examine the walls, I see no pictures of her missing daughter. A few pictures with her and Tom. Their wedding day, a few out with friends. Any happy days they might have had, are long behind them. In these pictures Ruth is a vibrant beauty. Tom looks like he wants everyone to know he can afford things. 359 The front door opens, and a man freezes when he sees me. Unlike the woman, he looks the same as he did ten years ago. Tailored suit, Rolex, and other indicators of wealth. Salon quality blonde hair, a strong and bulky build, and crisp skin from a tanning bed. 360 "Who are you?" the man asks. 361 "Tom, this is an investigator. Talking about Katie," Ruth says while walking back into the room with her wine. 362 "Can I finally get my gun back?" he asks. 363 "I have no control over that. Private investigator," I clarify. 364 "Ten years later? Now you care?" he asks. 365 "It wasn't my case then. It is now," I say. Tom keeps his shoes on and walks toward me, his steps thudding as he approaches with the subtlety of a bull charging. 366 "Do you know something they don't?" he asks. 367 "Katie's friends helped her steal a car. A Buick Skylark," I say. 368 "Like I said. Trouble," Ruth says from the chair. 369 "Whatever those girls say, you can't trust them. They lied before, they'll keep lying," Tom says, then steps toward his wife. 370 "Did you know Katie was pregnant?" I ask. Tom hesitates a moment, then slowly sits down in his chair. He debates with himself for a moment, and nods. 371 "I knew," he says. His wife turns her entire body to him. 372 "You knew?" I was thinking she knew but was denying it. That was a sharp response, showing genuine surprise. 373 "That's what I said. I told Katie she needed to have an abortion, or she wasn't going to live here," Tom says. He's the one who pressured her. 374 "You kicked my daughter out?" Ruth says. I had seen enough domestic cases when I was a uniform, and these two certainly fit the bill. Tom is careful not to display his aggravation to her tone, but not careful enough. 375 "It was her choice," Tom says, and his wife turns her body away. "It was also her choice to steal from us. Likely with the help of those so-called friends who helped her, what did you say? Steal a car? Jesus." 376 "What else did she steal?" I ask. 377 "It's in the report." 378 "I'm not a police officer; I'm a private investigator. I don't have a full report. Just consider me a fresh pair of eyes," I say. Tom leans back into the couch and crosses his arms. He points his chin to the ceiling in thought. 379 "Some cash. A DVD player. A lot of electronics. A laptop, my video recording equipment, cellphone," he says, then huffs. "I had to pay to get most of it back. The law is backwards as fuck. I was the victim twice." 380 The girls were right; he's more concerned about his belongings than Katie. I jot down his abridged list of goods and proceed. 381 "She managed to sell the items so easily because you kept receipts?" I ask Ruth in particular. Ruth nods in response. "It's a good habit to get into. What inspired it?" 382 "Big ticket items I keep receipts for insurance and returns," Ruth says. 383 "What was her relationship with her father Roger?" I ask. 384 "Fine. The only problem they had was distance," Ruth says. 385 "What about your relationship with him?" I ask. The reason for their divorce could shed light on the motivation for Katie's departure. 386 "I divorced him when I found out he had another child with a different woman," she says while shaking her head. Her face holds an expression of contempt. "Why are you asking about her father?" 387 "The girls think she may have left to go to her father's," I say. 388 "The police checked with him. She didn't contact him before or after her disappearance," Ruth says. 389 "Does he still live in upstate New York?" I ask, and she nods. "Why would Katie run away? Aside from disagreeing with you on the baby?" I ask while looking directly at Tom. 390 "That's the only reason I fathomed," Tom said. He didn't even care she left. 391 "Why didn't you tell the police she was pregnant?" 392 "They never asked." 393 "Detective Whitaker never asked you to speculate why she would run?" I ask, and he shakes his head. Bullshit. Absolute garbage. I don't need to pick a fight right away and get thrown out. I do note his demeanor, however. 394 "Why would she feel a need to take a gun with her?" I ask. 395 "Figured she tried selling that too. It's a collector's piece," Tom says. Nickel plated with a rosewood grip. That's believable. "Saved my life once too. I had a home invasion twelve years ago. Shot the intruder with it." 396 I will look into that. 397 "Any more questions?" he asks. 398 I spend an hour in the house conducting the interview. If Katie had a boyfriend. Her academic history. What clubs or hobbies she had in school. I circle back to the relationship with her father. I want to have an accurate picture of Katie, and cross verify it with other people I will talk to later. 399 Katie was polite and passive, didn't have a boyfriend that anyone seemed to know about, and was the most active in band. She played saxophone in the regular band for school, and in jazz band. It didn't appear she had many hobbies outside of a narrow musical niche, but she did have a large collection of vinyl records from the sixties and onward. Her mother said her favorite was Wham! and that she had a small crush on George Michael in general. 400 I don't only take notes of what the two say. I also capture the way they say it, and their mannerisms. Ruth is clearly a distraught alcoholic who never leaves the house. She has no makeup and is dressed in clothes I'd wager she wore yesterday. Talking about Katie makes her smile, but the warmth of the memories is fleeting. The curl of her lips buckles under the weight of her grief. Tom is purely standoffish, daring me to accuse him of something. 401 Ruth notices her husband's anger, so leads me up the stairs to look at Katie's room. Maybe something will jump out at me, that hadn't for her. Katie certainly had a love for eighties music by indications of the posters. The room isn't overtly girly, but it was clearly a girl's room. Teddy bear on a floral bedspread. Posters of boys. Cork board with photos of her friends Leland and Angela. Under her bed are several milkcrates filled with vinyl records. Mostly pop music from the 80s and 90s. Michael Jackson. George Michael and Wham!. Madonna. NKOTB. She had personally written Katie on the back of each album in purple sharpie over the track listing. Another vase of white lilies in on her desk, and I ask her mother. They were Katie's favorite. 402 I look the best I can, but I don't see a saxophone, or even the case for one. 403 "Where is her saxophone?" I ask Ruth who is loitering at her door. 404 "Her saxophone?" she repeats, and I nod. "I don't know. I always assumed she took it with her." No saxophone or music records were sold at pawn shops when she sold the other valuables. She didn't part with those. She sold only the things that belonged to Tom and her mother. 405 "Maybe she sold that shit too," Tom says from the door. I sigh and turn to the man who is so broad shouldered he would need to turn sideways to step through the door. 406 "I can't help but notice, you and Katie don't appear to have gotten along," I say. His body takes a forceful lean into the bedroom, but Ruth touches his shoulder and coaxes him back. 407 "She was a teenager, and I was the evil stepfather," Tom says. 408 "Did you argue?" I ask. 409 "Of course, we did. I got her a car, and she crashed it. Clothing, electronics, gift cards. It was never enough for her. I'd cut off her allowance for bad grades, or lying, or breaking curfew. Bottomless pit of entitlement. When I cut back on her, it's like I stole directly from the pocket of the pants I bought her in the first place. Her final thank you? Stealing more of my shit and running away with a stolen car." There is no grief toward her disappearance. No emotion. Nothing. His wife says nothing in the defense of her daughter. 410 I jot my final notes down and close my notebook. 411 "Thank you for your time. If I discover anything, I'll keep you informed," I say. Neither of them see me out of their home. I walk down the stairs to the ground floor and exit the house without escort. 412 -- Monday - April 13, 2020: Three Days Gone 413 ~Midge Appletree~ 414 My promise of a locked door with my wife is broken well before I manage to get home. It's eleven when I put my gun in the safe. Before I do anything else, I pack for the road trip with Yvonne. We are going to drive to Whisper, Pennsylvania tomorrow morning. 415 My old partner Sergeant William Kaiser is brought onto the case with his partner Detective Ingrid Hazel. They're covering for both Homicide and Missing Persons. Will and Ingrid will handle the local portion of the case, interview Katie Grossman's family, friends, etc. Retrace Chase's steps locally, evaluate all of Chase's work on the case to see if he missed anything. While Kaiser finds his trail in the city, Yvonne and I will go to the last place we can confirm his presence. 416 Gianna does not hide her irritation as I pack my suitcase. The last time we slept together was three months ago. Our marriage has been hit with a deadly combination of work and kids. If the kids are gone, she or I have offset shifts. If we manage to align our work schedules and thus our sleeping schedules, we catch Preston sneaking inside from a place he shouldn't have been, and he thinks I don't know what marijuana smells like. We have the drug talk, and by the time we handle that, I don't fuck my wife. 417 I place my neatly folded shirts in the bag while Gianna sits up with her arms folded over her chest. Laying in the bed next to her is Shawn. Shawn being in our bed isn't new, but it is frustrating when we had plans to be physical. 418 "Shawn had that nightmare again," Gianna says. I pause to look at her, then resume packing. "You even gonna ask?" 419 "Is it the nightmare where he's alone, and can't find me in a crowd?" I ask. Shawn gets separation anxiety. He panics if someone he trusts isn't nearby. That list of people he trusts is low. His nightmares reflect that fear, but thankfully he doesn't get them often. Every time he has had the nightmare, was when I wasn't at home. Not exactly subtle. 420 "When you said you wanted a baby, your own baby, I was okay with that. I was thrilled because I thought it showed a level of commitment from you, I hadn't seen before. When you had post-partum, I understood. I had it with Wendy, it's terrifying, so I'm never going to judge you for that..." 421 "...get to the fucking point," I say. Gianna talks like this, when she doesn't want to piss me off before the fight even starts. The fight is still coming. 422 "I'm a married single mother right now," Gianna says. "I've been one before." 423 "I don't have any say when I catch a case..." 424 "...you fucking promised you were at the academy for three months, and that was barely a week ago." 425 "This case took priority." 426 "I try my hardest to have our schedules overlap so we can be married, and not roommates. It's starting to feel like you're my roommate," Gianna says. I stop packing and try to bottle it down for a moment. "I've been pretty patient with everything. The hours, the nightmares, the smoking." 427 Gianna is an ex-smoker herself. I think she's pissed that I'm making it harder for her to still be an ex-smoker. 428 "What do you want from me?" I ask. "Promotions come with more work, not less. I took a shitty duty at the academy, for you, and they still found a way to fuck me over. I'm sorry about Shawn, if my son's too much trouble, I'll send him to his father's for..." 429 "...why? Why do you do that? Have I ever spoken to or about Shawn, like he was anything less than my own son?" Gianna asks. She is nearly crying. I didn't mean to hit that hard. Shawn is my son in the literal sense, but he is every bit as much her son as he is mine. Once I start verbally swinging, I don't always know when enough is enough. I sometimes forget I'm a trained interrogator, and my jabs are designed to get a response. 430 "I'm sorry," I say. Damn I really want a cigarette right now. "You were his mother for the first six months, not me." 431 "No, Wendy was his mother for the first six months. She took such good care of him when I couldn't, and you were recovering," Gianna says. 432 I wanted to be a mother. Not just a stepmother. I wanted my own baby. My best friend Shane gave me some sperm, and we made a baby together. Throughout the pregnancy, I was stoked. I counted the days. For some odd reason, I even enjoyed the kicking. Then I gave birth, and I shut down. 433 I knew what post-partum depression was in the abstract. I had read articles on it and had seen it in the news. Hell, I had a case where a mother received a reduced sentence for drowning her baby, the defense using post-partum as a special circumstance. Never occurred to me that it could inflict me. Until it did. 434 The best way to describe it, is that it's scary. It doesn't make sense to yourself at an emotional level. Your baby shares the same level of attachment as a toaster. Only a toaster doesn't cry all night and shit its pants. Your mind tricks itself into viewing your baby as an object. A broken object. 435 When Shawn was two months old, Gianna came home to me having left Shawn in the bath alone crying while I was sulking in the closet. The water left him red with a fever, but not burned. Thankfully, he had bath floaties. Shane took care of him for a few months, as I slowly acclimated myself to my son. During her summer vacation, Wendy helped me the most. Instead of being a teenaged girl, she helped me bond with Shawn. 436 "Look at me," Gianna says. I take a few breaths and do as she asks. "I'm sorry for picking a fight. I know it's not you. You would love to be here for the nightmares." 437 "I would," I say. I walk around the bed and use my finger to move the hair from my son's face. He's an angel who wakes you up by pile driving your spine. "How about I take him to his room, and we try to lock a door?" 438 "You look beat. I'm okay. Really. Besides, he always wakes up on a nightmare night," Gianna says. 439 "If he cries, he cries. We'll handle it then," I say. 440 I carry Shawn to his room and softly lower him to his bed. I pull the covers to his chest and kiss his forehead. He doesn't even squirm. As quiet as I can, I tiptoe back to my room, and lock my door. 441 As tired as I rightfully am, I don't want to rush it. I need it too much to cheapen it that way. Gianna needs this more than I do, so I focus on her orgasm first. I kiss my way across her body. Toys buzz her clit while I work other places. She climaxes, but I don't stop so she can breathe. She tends to lose the ability to exhale when she has an orgasm. 442 The sex is about to focus on me when Shawn decides it's nightmare time. I knew it was coming, and I'm okay with it. My robe is on a hook on the bathroom door. Shawn sounds like he settles down before I leave my room. Walking down the hall, I look into his room and see Wendy sitting on his bed. She's incredible, and I stand at the doorway to admire her. 443 "I'll stay here until you fall asleep again. I won't go anywhere. Promise," she says. Wendy knows I'm there and looks over her shoulder at me. She gestures to let me know she's got it. I mouth 'thank you' and return to my room to fuck my wife. 444 -- Tuesday - April 14, 2020: Four Days Gone 445 ~Midge Appletree~ 446 Will and Ingrid had been up all-night making Yvonne and me a case book for travel. Something for us to review as we drive to Whisper, Pennsylvania. Chase had used his phone for directions, and the trip had synced on Jenn's devices as well. We have his exact route. He only took two pictures that automatically uploaded into his cloud. One was a photo of a photo, showing what looks like Katie Grossman standing next to the car in question. The other is a voyeuristic photo through a window, but the flash from his phone obscured the shot when it reflected off the glass. 447 We know he made two stops along the way. Likely for gas, food, or the bathroom. Without stops it was a four-hour drive. He took I71 until it reached I271. From there he took I90. He planned on staying on I90 all the way New York state, once he was done in Whisper off exit 4C. Not long after he took the exit, his tires blew out. Three tires in fact. The tow truck took him to Whisper, which was about twenty miles down the road. 448 Part 5 Jenn gave us his credit card receipts so we know exactly where he got gas and refreshments along the way. An hour into the drive we show his picture to the cashier of the gas station who shakes his head. Didn't expect him to remember. We called the state troopers in advance, so an officer met us there to help leverage them into giving us the surveillance video absent a warrant. Chase came about the time his receipt said, bought a coffee, paid for his gas, and drove north without incident. 450 Yvonne and I continue to I271 and turn off at the same place Chase did. Story is the same. Cashier didn't remember him. State Troopers helped get us the tape. Chase went to the bathroom and paid for coffee. No gas at this stop. 451 Before we resume the final leg of our drive, I stop to smoke. Yvonne resists this time. Apparently, her boyfriend smelled it on her yesterday, and she left her home with an incomplete argument. I admire she isn't using the chance to smoke more to spite him. 452 "Looks like he got this far without incident," Yvonne says, standing five feet away, and up wind from me. 453 "Let's get to ninety, then take the exit," I say, flicking the ash away from myself. 454 "You think he's dead?" Yvonne asks. Someone needed to ask the question. 455 "I don't know. Stats tell me yes, but I know the guy. Chase is not a lightweight. If someone did get him, he left a mark somewhere. He's not going down without swinging," I say. 456 Chase once entered a motel room and was ambushed by two assailants. He was stabbed, but in the fight still managed to kill one and force the other to retreat. I've seen him run down a decathlete and spear tackle him onto the hood of a police car. The last thing he did as a cop was survive a shoot-out with the Russian Mob and lose his leg. He lost the leg because he carried a downed officer to another vehicle after it was already broken in six places. Chase doesn't look like he could, which is why it always catches people off guard. 457 Now the statistics are telling me Chase is dead. Something in my gut doesn't buy it. I trust my gut more than statistics. 458 Yvonne is behind the wheel as we cross into the state of Pennsylvania. When the exit is close, I let her know with a mile of foreknowledge. Michael Jackson's 'Bad' starts playing as I direct her to exit 4C. 459 "Just up ahead," I say pointing at the exit sign. Yvonne is dancing rather than driving. It's a small miracle she makes the turn. "You scare the shit out of me when you drive." 460 "You know it..." she sings. Whisper is about twenty-three miles off the exit. According to receipts, Chase came off the highway to investigate the stolen car, but blew out his tires before he got there. I read his receipts from the case book, and then I look up at the road and see a motherfucker of a pothole coming up fast. Yvonne is dancing, so I know she doesn't see it, so I yank the steering wheel toward myself. "Fucking Christ!" The car slides onto the shoulder, and Yvonne swerves it back to the road before we hit the guard rail. We fishtail, and the car whips to a screeching halt facing the opposite direction. 461 Yvonne hands are white knuckling the steering wheel. Her fingers slowly relax their death grip. My angel's icy pale skin is thawing from a red glow. 462 "What. The. Fuck, was that?" Yvonne asks in slow, bubbling anger. 463 "Look," I say, pointing to the pothole. Yvonne turns to the road and sees what I see. She drives toward it and pulls to the shoulder. We both remove our seatbelts and exit the car to get a closer look at the hole. It's a good foot deep, two feet long, and extends a full car length wide. 464 "Good looking out. Trading paint on the guardrail was the better option," Yvonne says. She takes a catcher's squat next to the hole. A car takes the exit, and we direct them around it before continuing our examination. 465 "This doesn't look like natural erosion," Yvonne says. She points to an observable pattern of digging. Like a pickaxe was used starting in the middle of the road and dragged backward toward the right shoulder. The rest was completed with a shovel. 466 "I think I know how Chase blew out his tires," I say. Yvonne agrees and stands upright from her squat. "Call a tow." 467 "What?" she asks. "Why?" 468 "Just do it. I bet you anything, they take the car to a shop in Whisper." 469 -- Wednesday - April 8, 2020: Two Days Before 470 -Chase Kramner- 471 My seatbelt stops my face from slamming into the steering wheel. Still hurt like a bitch and knocked the wind out of my lungs. I can hear hissing from air leaving my tires. The front right tire feels like the only one that was spared because the car slumps down to the rims at the others. 472 What the hell just happened? I took the exit to Whisper, looked at my messages for a second, and bam! Three tires down to the rim. 473 My car screeches like metal grinding as I pull it to the shoulder with the momentum I have left to move. I take a moment to get my heartrate down, because that scared the shit out of me. Once calm, I stop the motor and open the car door. Before I step out, I check the straps of my prosthetic. 474 I take a slow lap around my car and see that three of my tires are shredded. With one gone I could limp to a station on a donut, but three tires are totaled. What the hell did I hit? I turn toward the way I came from and start walking. 475 "You gotta be shitting me," I say out loud to myself. There is an unnaturally large pothole in the road. I take a knee on my real leg and pull at the road with my bare hand. It's so loose I pull a piece off. I growl in frustration and throw the piece into the hole. "Goddammit." 476 AAA tells me only one shop is within the radius of my wreck, and it just so happens to be in Whisper just down the road. I sit on the hood of my car with my foot on the bumper while I wait. I call Jenn as well to update her and hang up when I see the tow arrive. Good Knight Towing and Repair is decaled on the side of the flatbed truck. That's the same shop that fixed the Buick Skylark ten years ago. Blanchard couldn't get me everything, but he got me enough. 477 "That's some serious damage," the driver says as he climbs out of his truck. He's in mechanic coveralls he likely bought before significant weight gain. Long greasy black hair with uneven stubble on his cheeks and upper lip. Letters stitched onto his shirt say his name is Mort. The last person I want near my car. 478 "Just didn't see it," I say. He looks at the pothole and laughs at me. A blind man could have seen that pothole. I deserve to be mocked for this. 479 "That's what you get for being on your phone," he says while walking around my car to assess the damage. "Least you still got one. Only problem is, newer models, the tires get more and more custom. We probably don't have it on hand. Need to order it." 480 Now I must call Katie's father and let him know I won't make our meeting. I had him scheduled for later today. I would have crashed at a hotel in New York, and spent the next day driving back home but that plan hit a pothole. 481 Mort puts my car on the truck, and I drive in the cab with him after securing my gun in my concealed holster. It's twenty minutes of single lane roads flanked by trees and foliage. Every so often there is a driveway to a rural residence. Dirt driveways and wire fences to keep the livestock in. 482 A sign on the side of the road is larger than the others, and it catches my attention. In cursive font, it says Welcome to Whisper. Population 317 and established in 1715. 483 Within five minutes, we're downtown. A two-way road wedged between two rows of single and two-story structures. Some buildings have maintained the façade of colonial red brick. Some buildings take a more colonial French aesthetic. I believe in 1715 this part of Pennsylvania would have been French territory. I count eleven on one side, so I'll guess twenty-two separate structures. A quarter of the buildings are shuttered businesses. Pulled into the parking spots are an odd collage of old trucks, dented cars, with new models sprinkled here or there. Not too different from where I live. The generational rural population augmented by city dwellers who retire or are fed up with high taxes. The city dwellers often don't leave their politics behind, lacking any sense of self-awareness as they wonder why the rural folks don't have the political sensibilities of the city they left because of the politics. 484 "Town has seen some rough times?" I ask. 485 "Booming actually. Just a few years ago this entire side of the street was gone," Mort says, pointing to the right of us. I see a bakery/coffee shop. The name of the bakery makes me laugh. Careless Whisker. Their logo is a cup of coffee with a cat in a chef hat with a paw over its mouth. 486 "Garage is just up ahead," Mort says. I turn to where he is directing me. A short drive from downtown is an auto repair garage. The sign above the building has the same logo as the truck. Good Knight Towing and Repair. There is a fenced-off lot to the right with a dozen cars. Mort puts the truck into park and jumps out to open the fence. I jump out as well, and as I'm climbing out, part of my prosthetic comes loose, and I'm completely off balance when I reach the ground. I stumble forward into the fence, barely managing to not fall on my face. 487 "You good?" Mort says as he works the key into the lock. "I didn't want to say anything, but you a vet or something? Lose the leg in Iraq or Afghanistan?" 488 "Former police officer. Lost it in a shootout," I say. 489 "Service is service. Thank you," Mort says. He opens the gate by dragging it back, parts of the fence scratching against the asphalt. It's been pulled open so many times over so many years, there are valleys underneath the gate that match the swing. "You can head in. I'll see you in a minute." 490 A bell above the door rings loudly as I open the door. It's an old building with a long counter made with the skill of a first-year trade school student. Behind the counter are shelves advertising small components for cars like bulbs, gas caps, oil filters, tire caps, etc. The wall next to the doors is lined with photos from an instant polaroid camera, showing customers with their cars. 491 The owner appears to be an accomplished hunter if the pictures of him posing with a dead buck is any indication. He's kneeling with the rifle butt on the ground, the barrel pointed straight up. It was dragged to a hunting shack with naked trees in the background. 492 Another man emerges from an office. Looks like Mort, only older with a powerful moustache. I'd like the man to fix my car before I piss him off with questions about Katie. 493 "You the guy Junior went to pick up?" he asks. His name tag also says Mort. 494 "I'm the guy," I say. He sees my leg, and tilts across the counter for a better look. 495 "Iraq or Afghanistan?" he asks. 496 "Ohio," I say. "It's looking like three tires. 2018 Ford Focus." 497 "The SE model?" he asks. I'm surprised he knows to ask. 498 "Titanium. Four-door hatchback," I reply. 499 Mort types into a computer to look up the car. I'm surprised he has a computer... I don't know why I just assume a small town is full of country bumpkins who don't know what computers are. Born an elitist prick, always an elitist prick. 500 "Ohio a city in Iraq or something?" he jokes. 501 "Feels like that sometimes," I say, and he chuckles. 502 "We'll need to order the tires. We got nothing in stock." For a Ford Fucking Focus? "We don't even have a loaner right now," he says. 503 "How soon could I get back on the road?" I ask. 504 "A day. Two tops. I'll put in a rush order to Pittsburg," Mort says. 505 "Fuck," I say and step away from the counter to make some calls. I update Jenn and call Roger Grossman. After I make the calls, I start looking up any hotels I can stay in for the next few nights. Looking like only one is nearby, and Uber doesn't exist out here. 506 "You hit a bike or something?" Senior askes. Junior walks in from the door leading to the garage. 507 "He hit that pothole right off exit four." 508 "The state needs to do something about that. That's government for you. Liberals keep arguing, 'without the government, who'd build roads?'. Gotta wonder if they've ever seen a road let alone drove on one. We get at least two people a month who don't see that hole. Been there for years." 509 I wonder if the reason the hole has been there for years, is because someone keeps it there. Great way to keep business coming if you're a small-town repair shop. Probably helps the one bed & breakfast I need to stay at, too. 510 "I'll put on a police and military discount. They got a few models, ranging from about $190 to $250 a tire before discount. Junior said the tires you had were the Blizzak WS90. Might be why they went so easy because those are winter tires, so I'd recommend a complete set." I never would have noticed. Cars are not my thing. "I'd recommend the Potenza. All season, and relatively cheap compared to some of the others. $190 apiece, times four, work and taxes, run you about $800 after the computer does the math for the discount." Not like I have a choice. 511 "You need a deposit?" I ask. 512 "You can check out when the work is done. Just give me your number, I'll give you a call when the tires arrive," Senior says. I leave him my number and wait for him to print out the estimate. While he's doing that, I look around the shop again, and decide to give the wall of customers a gander. Senior looks like a creepy old man. His son must have taken the pictures because it's only himself with female customers in front of their cars. 513 "Satisfied customers," Senior says over the printer. Sure thing. 514 I was coming to this shop regardless because I know the Buick Skylark was here. Katie was here. My eyes scan the pictures left and right, up and down. I slow my search, spending a few seconds on each picture. I hide my smile when I find it. 515 Katie Grossman is posing in front of a metallic mint-green 1964 Buick Skylark with a white convertible top. I pull off the picture held onto the wall by a piece of tape folded onto itself. "Careful..." 516 "...when was this?" I ask. 517 "When was what?" 518 "This girl," I say, pointing at Katie. "When did she come in?" 519 "Hmm," he says, giving it a good look. "Can't say for sure. Honestly, I remember the car more than the girl. Buick Skylark," he says with whistle. "She came by during hunting season some time ago." 520 "I'd hope you'd remember because the car was reported stolen," I say. He is instantly defensive, crossing his arms over his chest. He's also suspicious that I know about the car. 521 "Yeah, and a cop with two legs showed up asking. I gave him what I had, and he left. Why do you care? You're not a cop," Senior says. 522 "I don't remember nothing either..." Junior begins but is cut off by his father. 523 "No one was asking you. Go work on some cars boy." 524 "Can I keep this?" I ask. 525 "No," Senior says flatly. 526 "Ten bucks." 527 "Not for sale," he says. He extends his hand out for the photo. Before I give it back, I use my phone to take a picture of the picture. "Really?" I hand it back to him. "That's the same as keeping it." 528 "Should have taken the ten bucks then. What do you remember about the girl?" 529 "Like I said, I remember the car more than the girl. We fixed her up, and she drove off." 530 "You got records? A copy of a driver's license? Insurance? Registration..." 531 "You got a warrant? Or a badge, Mr. Used to Be a Cop." 532 "Look man..." 533 "...we don't remember..." Junior tries to chime in again. 534 "...shut your fucking mouth Junior!" Senior snaps, and turns to me, placing a finger directly into my chest. "I get you got things you need to do. Where this girl comes in ain't my business, don't know, don't care. But this business, is my business if you catch my drift. You want to start going through my receipts, you better come with at me with a judge's blessing." 535 Senior won't back down, so I show him my hands in momentary surrender. I need to get my ducks in a row and regroup before I come at him again. The first thing to do is talk to the local law. 536 -- Tuesday -- April 14, 2020: Four Days Gone 537 ~Midge Appletree~ 538 A man in a mechanics suit two sizes too small and greasy hair arrives to give us a tow. I flick the cherry off my cigarette and slide the butt into an empty pack filled with other butts. His name is stitched onto the coveralls and says Mort. We let him take a walk around the car until he realizes there isn't anything wrong with it. He is too confused to ask why we called. 539 "We just wanted to see who'd show up," I say. He sees we're both armed and takes a cautious step back. "Relax, this isn't a shakedown. I'm Detective Appletree, my compatriot is FBI Special Agent Grimsdotter. Just want to ask a few questions." 540 We take a moment to show our badges. "What about?" he asks. 541 "A few days ago, did you see this guy?" I ask. I prepared some pictures before he got here and show him one of Chase. "Chase Kramner. Likely hit that pothole and called you on the eighth." 542 "Don't recognize him," he says. He's a bad liar. His eyes bulged, and his voice dropped sharply. He doesn't even want to look at me or the picture. 543 "2018 Ford Focus sound familiar?" Yvonne asks. 544 "Common car." 545 "You telling me you don't remember a guy hobbling around on a fake leg less than a week ago?" I ask. "Small towns, everyone knows everyone. Everyone also knows when someone is not from round here," I say with exaggeration. He looks somewhat insulted by my drawl. 546 "I was off last week. Wasn't working. Tows were done by the other guy," Mort stammers out. 547 "What's the other guy's name?" 548 "Mort," he says. 549 "Your name is Mort." 550 "So is the other guy. I work the shop with my father, he's also Mort. He's Senior, I'm Junior." Who refers to their own father, as the other guy? Someone who didn't expect someone to come sniffing so soon. 551 "Well Mort, we need to talk to the other guy then," Yvonne says, and walks past him to the car. She retakes the driver's seat, and I slide into the passenger side. 552 "We have to press him more. He remembered Chase. That guy is lying through his teeth," I say. 553 "I know, but let's get him nice and scared," Yvonne says. 554 "Why? He'll call the other guy so he has time to prepare his answers," I say. 555 "You have to know which questions I'm going to ask to prepare the answers for them," Yvonne says and pulls away from the tow truck. I watch Mort stare at us from the rear view. He's already pulling out his phone. 556 -- Good Knight Towing and Repair is just past the main street of Whisper. A structure with two garage bays and a fenced in lot I will assume is for the people who get towed within twenty-five miles of the town. The same logo that was on Mort's truck is above the door. It's a knight in grease-stained armor repairing a car that looks like an armored horse. 557 "Cute sign," Yvonne says before she shuts the car door. 558 "What's the strategy? Good cop?" 559 "Nah. I'm thinking hot cop, obvious lesbian," she says and walks toward the door. 560 "I don't know what that means," I say, scrambling to follow her. The door chimes loudly from a bell above the door. 561 "Be right there," a voice says from an office. "I gotta go. I think they're here," he says, but I imagine he thinks he was quieter. "Sorry about that. Taking a call." He's older, looks a lot like the other guy, and sure enough, his name tag says Mort. 562 "From Junior I take it, giving you a heads up two cops are looking for the guy you claim you don't remember." Yvonne digs right in. I'd be a little more subtle, but that's just me. 563 "I don't remember him." 564 "You haven't even looked at a picture. Please, get the continuity of the lie prepared first. Ready?" Yvonne says, and slides the picture across the counter. "Remember him now. Nice hair, tall, personality as comforting as a Brillo pad tampon?" I need to write that one down. 565 Part 6 "He's never been here." 567 "First rule of interviews Mort," Yvonne says, and snaps toward me without looking. Bitch, we didn't talk this plan through, what does a snap mean? "File." I know what's she's doing now. I open the file under my arm and pull-out Chase's receipts for the auto repair. "First rule, is if you can help it, never ask a question when you don't already know the answer." 568 Chase's receipts for the repair are placed in front of him. Mort's posture implodes into himself. He rapidly looks down at the evidence, and up at her eyes. He's trying to think of a way this makes sense without having to admit he remembers. 569 "Last chance before the bad cop takes over," Yvonne says, and points at me with her thumb over her shoulder. "You think I'm bad? I actually like the occasional dick." Is she alluding to me being a man-hating, angry lesbian, bad cop? 570 Mort sighs and hunches over the counter on both palms. "He came in a few days ago." 571 "I know he did. Where the hell is he?" 572 "He drove out of town after the repairs." 573 "I don't believe you," Yvonne says, and Mort's sigh is deeper. "Because if he just drove out of town, you'd say he drove out of town without telling me you never saw him. Now that we've established you can tell the truth occasionally, let's improve your batting average for candor. Where the fuck, is he?" Verbal escalation. She didn't start at fuck, but she let it get there organically. 574 "I'm just saying what I was told to say..." 575 "...what the hell does that mean?" I ask, and his head whips to me. His chin drops because of the height disparity. "Who told you to lie in the event someone comes asking?" 576 "I'm not looking for trouble." 577 "Neither are we. We're looking for something else entirely, but we're finding trouble," I say and step up to the counter. It's time for the man-hating, angry lesbian, bad cop. And damn that's a lot of adjectives. "Mr. Kramner hit that pothole. You, or Junior, or someone else, don't care, towed him here and fixed him up. A few short days later, he up and disappears like your balls in a pool. What was he doing while you were fixing his car, and who doesn't want me to know?" 578 "The Sheriff said if someone asked, don't answer questions, just send them his way. He was investigating someone, or something like that," Senior says. 579 "Was he investigating this girl?" Yvonne asks, and shows him a picture of Katie Grossman. I want to talk about this Sheriff more, but all color fades from his face so I let Yvonne keep going. "Chase told his wife he thinks she got stuck here too. Why would he think that?" 580 "Don't know," he lies. These guys are amateur liars. I scan the room and see a wall of pictures. I watch him become uncomfortable when he sees me look at it. Getting warmer. 581 "Customers?" I ask. 582 "Yeah...all satisfied customers," he says in a trembling voice. 583 Nothing is standing out. Granted most of them look annoyed they asked for a picture, but besides that, it's innocent advertisement. I count four complete rows of five, and two incomplete rows of four. The man loves to take pictures with girls. He seems to have a thing for brunettes. Sometimes it isn't about what's there; it's about what's missing. Whoever puts the photos on the wall is mildly compulsive. No picture overlaps with another, forming even rows with only small tilts, but nothing distracting. They removed a picture, and didn't replace it with another, leaving an eye twitch inducing gap in the collage. 584 "Wait a minute," I say, and scan through the files. Jenn had provided all the pictures that went to Chase's cloud. Amongst them is a photo of a photo, showing Katie Grossman posing next to a Buick Skylark with a thinner version of Senior. 585 "What was here?" I ask, pointing to the space. His face is panic. Pure panic. 586 "Umm...must of...must of fell off," he says. I look at the floor, and do not see a photo. "Probably swept up." 587 "What did my partner say about us not asking questions we don't know the answer to?" I ask, and then show him the picture of the picture. "Katie Grossman was here, wasn't she?" I ask. Yvonne doesn't look at me, but she doesn't need to, to back my play. She knows what I'm doing and postures to add pressure on him. "July 2009." 588 "I couldn't tell you the girl's name. I don't remember that far back." 589 "1964 Buick Skylark," Yvonne says, and he gulps. "You think I got a problem getting a warrant from a federal judge? I'm FBI. I can get one today." She can absolutely have a problem getting a warrant. He doesn't need to know that, so I dog pile. 590 "Better yet, let's add a few agencies. EPA gonna like your waste disposal practices? Are your business licenses up to date? You keep separate books for unneeded work and pocket the difference? IRS frowns on that," I say, and I watch each threat land like Mike Tyson swung at him. "Or you let us see your receipts." 591 "Alright," he says with his hands up. "She was here." 592 "When and why?" I ask. 593 "Why what?" he asks. 594 "Why was Katie Grossman here?" Yvonne asks for me. He's getting whiplash from our back and forth. That's a strategy we get trained to use, and we landed on it by our mutual instinct and experience. Talking to a cop is like walking into a ring to box a pro with a 50-0 record, and there are two of us. Just don't do it. That's what lawyers are for. 595 "She hit that pothole, same as the other guy." 596 "How the fuck do they hit the same pothole, ten years apart?" I ask. I know the answer, but I want him to say it. 597 "Because...we...uhh..." 598 "You go out there with a pickaxe and shovel to bring business to town," Yvonne says. Mort slowly nods. "You fixed the cars. Then what?" 599 "Then they leave. Honest to God." 600 "What about the Sheriff?" I ask. "Did the Sheriff say send them his way, or to lie to whomever comes looking?" I ask, and he goes silent. There is a long pause, and he doesn't reply, but his face is contorting like he's trying. "Where's the Sheriff?" 601 "At the station." 602 "No shit," I say, then contain myself before I continue. "Where is the station?" 603 "Take main street north until it turns into Foret street. Only building for five miles, can't miss it," he says. 604 "We're going to go talk to the Sheriff. We will be back. When we get back, I want everything you have regarding Mr. Kramner and Ms. Grossman," Yvonne says and hands him her card. "This number calls you, you answer the phone, or some three letter agencies will be called next. You understand?" Mort's shaky hand takes the card, and he confirms he understands. 605 Yvonne scoops up the evidence we put on the counter and gestures for me to lead our exit. I don't enjoy how I look like her lackey and not her partner, but I get it. She's much more intimidating than me, and FBI scares people more than my badge does. Best we maintain the perceived hierarchy of authority between us. 606 "Woo," Yvonne says when we're at the car. She shivers her work persona off her body and gestures like she has a cigarette in her mouth. I toss her the pack and lighter. "Fuuuuuck that feels good. Been a minute since I dug a dick that deep." In practice, she's attached to the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI as a profiler. Lot of desk work and research. It's not often she's pulled for something like this. 607 "You're the type who actually enjoys it," I say, and light up as well. "I thought interviewing suspects was cool, until I was doing it in homicide. You get a few guys who have no shame in their actions and decide they want to explain every grisly detail just to watch you squirm." 608 "Not me. I love it. Better than sex," she says, then exhales a cloud of cancer. "Way to follow my lead in there." 609 "Hot cop, obvious lesbian," I say between puffs. "I'm not that obvious." 610 "You had a baby, and people went from thinking you had a dick to wondering if you like them," Yvonne says. She's not wrong. I was more androgynous before I had Shawn. Now I have something resembling boobs and my hair is to my ear lobes. 611 "Sheriff or hotel first?" I ask. 612 "It's a bed & breakfast actually..." 613 "...same thing..." 614 "...our check in isn't for a few hours, we got time." Her eyes catch something, and I follow. "Looks like the Sheriff found us," Yvonne says, and points with the hand the cigarette is in. 615 A forest green Ford Bronco approaches us and turns into the gravel lot two car lengths away. Decaled on the side of the truck is Sheriff Patrol and the badge for the town. A seven-point star extending out from under a circle that says Township of Whisper. A man steps out of the truck and places a brown wide brimmed sheriff's hat on a shiny bald head. He's wearing a tan, long sleeved shirt with forest green pants and tie. His badge matches the one on the truck, and his golden name plate with black lettering says Knight. The man in the uniform is well groomed and carries it with swagger, even with a cane to help him walk. If I needed to guess, I'd say late fifties. 616 "Nice face," Yvonne says, and the man lets out an embarrassed laugh. He has a mostly healed bruise on his face from God knows what. 617 "Face planted off a curb, cane missed it. Ladies," he says, tipping his hat to us. Small-town manners. I already hate this place. 618 "Special Agent Grimsdotter, FBI. Detective Appletree," Yvonne says to introduce us. "We're looking for the Sheriff. Could you help us?" 619 "You're looking at him. Sheriff Arthur Knight. I go by Art. Wondering when someone would show up," he says. He extends his hand for a shake, which Yvonne returns. Yvonne looks over her shoulder at the sign for the auto shop. "Mort is my cousin." 620 "Why did you tell Mort to say he never saw a man named Chase Kramner?" Yvonne asks. His face snaps into confusion. 621 "Mr. Kramner?" he asks, and Yvonne gestures something I can't see, so I start to walk around the car. "I didn't say that exactly. I said send them my way. Small towns like two things; spreading gossip and spreading it wrong. I wanted it coming from me, so the information wasn't diluted through a game of telephone." 622 Yvonne played that wrong. She made him aware of what Mort told us he told him, allowing him to walk it back without making it look like he was hiding something. Assuming Mort was being honest regarding what he was told, which is certainly in question. 623 "Where is he?" I ask. He offers me a handshake once I'm in arms reach. 624 "As far as I know, he drove out of town, let's say, a few days ago. Said he was moving on to New York," Art says after a moment of thought. I don't know if it's the uniform, but Art comes off less deceptive than his cousins. When I say less deceptive, I just mean a more rehearsed liar. 625 "Let me get this straight. You told Mort, to tell anyone who came looking for Mr. Kramner, to talk to you first?" Yvonne asked. 626 "That's right," Art says. "Mr. Kramner was looking for a girl who went missing some years ago. Some people in town remembered her, I helped him ask around. He left for New York, and a few days later I'm getting calls he's up and vanished too. I did my part of the looking and was told the Feds may send someone. I told Mort if someone came, send them to me." 627 Yvonne pauses, and I try to figure out my next question as well. He appears on the level, and his answers are making sense. 628 "Three days ago, his phone went dark," Yvonne says. No, Chase went missing four days ago. Yvonne usually has a plan, so I'll assume she did that on purpose for reason I haven't caught onto yet. 629 "I think Mr. Kramner left on...I want to say the tenth. So, he called a day after he left, but this is the last place you know he was?" Art asks. Yvonne looks flustered. 630 "I'll have to double check my timeline, only had the chance to read it on the drive. Hasn't fully absorbed yet," Yvonne says to salvage. "Could we rely on you to fill in the missing pieces?" 631 "Sure can. Happy to help," Art says with a grin. "I'd recommend starting at the local coffee place. I know Mr. Kramner talked to the owners." 632 "Lead the way," Yvonne says. 633 -- Wednesday -- April 8, 2020: Two Days Before 634 -Chase Kramner- 635 The Morts refuse to give me a ride to the Sheriff, so I take my backpack with my one change of clothes, files, and notes, and I limp down the road cursing. My concealed carry is chaffing my leg something fierce. A good hour later, Sheriff Arthur Knight looks at me from his desk after I'm directed to him by a deputy named Randall. The Sheriff is an older man with a shiny bald head but can still play with the young bucks. Trophies from his youth suggest he was an accomplished wrestler in college up to the collegiate level. Also a hunter when I see other pictures with game kills. 636 "Can I help you?" he asks. Arthur interlocks his fingers and puts his elbows down on the desktop. I must look like a sweaty and disgruntled pile of shit at this point. 637 "Chase Kramner, private investigator," I say. He notices my struggle to get to his desk for the handshake. 638 "Iraq or Afghanistan," he asks when he sees the leg. 639 "Neither. Lost it during my time as a police officer," I say. He holds up his cane, letting me know he likewise has mobility issues. 640 "One of my old deputies accidently discharged into my leg cleaning his weapon. He's not employed anymore. Not important. Glad to help a former officer regardless," he says. "Why's a PI in my township?" 641 "I came to town to talk with Mort about a stolen car and its driver from ten years ago. Now I'm stranded," I say. 642 "Let me guess; you hit that pothole at exit four?" he asks, and I nod. "Motherfuckers. I know Morton and his son keep digging the hole, I just can't catch them. I've set up cameras, everything. Elusive little shits. Sorry about that." I had a feeling that's what was going on. 643 "I was on my way to upstate New York to interview the father of the driver who went missing over ten years ago. I know she got stranded in town because the car she took was reported stolen by the Good Knight," I say. At that moment, the name clicks. Sheriff Knight. "Related?" 644 "Unfortunately. They're my cousins." 645 "Sorry to hear that," I joke, and he smiles. "This girl was here, so this is officially her last known whereabouts. He wouldn't let me keep the photo, but I took a picture on my phone," I say, pulling my phone from my pocket and opening the picture. I also place down the picture of her I already had to show it's the same person. "Katie Grossman. Disappeared July 2009." 646 "Cute girl," he says. 647 "Cute enough to remember?" I ask. 648 "I was still married in o'nine." 649 "They don't stop being pretty just because you're married," I say, and he laughs. "My wife is plenty gorgeous, and I still get slapped for looking now and again." 650 "I believe you. So was mine. Too pretty for me though," he says. "Irish redhead with a black ass. Always wanted to take my stepdaughter hunting, but never got the chance before we got divorced. Real shame." 651 "Mine's half Asian," I say. 652 "Damn. I bet that pussy tastes like pineapple," he says. That veered into a level of awkward I wasn't ready for. "This girl was in town but must have been behaved because I don't remember her. Ten years ago. Not a whole lot to work with." 653 "More than I had a few hours ago," I say, and he nods in understanding. "Mort Senior is sitting on records I could use to answer a few questions. If she drove out of town, it means they fixed her car. That means receipts." 654 "Depends on the business practices, I doubt he keeps receipts that far. Something tells me a guy who is willing to dig holes to bring business, is also doing some fishy shit with his receipts. Mort doesn't keep any loaners on purpose. Forces people to stay in town at the bed & breakfast which just so happens to be owned by his sister." 655 "The coincidences are astounding," I say sarcastically. Arthur seems to be genuinely annoyed at his cousin, and I might be able to use that. "Can you help?" 656 "I'll take a shot at Mort. Not the first time I've had to. What's her name again?" he asks. 657 "Katie Grossman. Driving a Buick Skylark. She'd have been here in July 2009," I say. 658 "I'll see what I can get out of him. I'd recommend going to the B&B, rest up. Head down this street, take a left on Lac...you don't have a car," he says, and calls a deputy named Lionel into the office. "Get a car ready. The B&B is called Whisper Lake Lodge, named because it's near Lake Mur. Shocking, I know. It's one of the oldest buildings in the town. You'll be looking for Morgan or her boy Lance. They run the place. Get settled in, we can reconvene in the morning." 659 "Sounds like a plan," I say. 660 "For my own SA, are you strapped?" he asks, SA meaning situational awareness. 661 "Want to see my CC?" Conceal carry license. "It has state reciprocity." 662 "Nah. You'd look out of place not armed around here. You ain't supposed to bring it in a police station but seeing how you don't have a car to put it in, I'll let it slide," he says, not even asking to see if I can legally carry my gun. I guess he figures I wouldn't be that stupid. 663 I don't know if I can trust him to do anything for me, but I don't really have a choice. Considering how easily he dimed out his cousin on the pothole matter, I imagine there isn't much love lost between the two men. For now, Sheriff Knight will handle the Morts, and I'll head down to the B&B. 664 -- Deputy Lionel is my personal driver for the time being. He's young, quiet, and appears annoyed to be a babysitter. Slick black hair with long bangs almost touching his chin. Structurally impressive with biceps so large it looks somewhat difficult for him to steer the car. Maybe he took up wrestling like the Sheriff. 665 Lac street is over two miles long and dead ends at the Whisper Lake Lodge. I have noticed many of the names in the town are French. Foret being forest or woods, Lac being lake. Even mur is likely short for murmur, which is rooted in French for whisper. Lake Whisper in the Whisper Woods. 666 Lionel pulls us to a gravel parking lot at the dead end. Signage directs foot traffic down a paved path to the lodge. Only one vehicle is parked when we arrive: an older SUV with handicap plates. 667 "Lance had an accident years ago. Lower spine injury. He's confined to a wheelchair," Lionel says when he spots me checking out the plate on the SUV. "Feel free to ask him, he's a good sport." 668 Lionel says he'll pick me up in the morning, and I walk up the path to the lodge alone with my bag. It's a good quarter mile before the lodge is even visible. The path crests at a hill and on the other side is the lake and the lodge. Once I get up the hill, I have to stretch my right leg because I was compensating for my lack of a left leg. While I loosen my muscle, I gaze down at the lodge. 669 Historically for me, a lodge is a ski resort in Vermont or New Hampshire. It has lifts to the mountain peak, a massive lodge with a log cabin aesthetic and private bungalows that can comfortably house five people. That is not this place. While nice to look at, it's a humble lodge that can maybe shelter ten guests at a time. I can see a few houses with private docks at different points around the lake, but it doesn't seem like the Lodge has its own in walking distance. The trees are a combination of deciduous and evergreen, lush and green. The wildlife is loud in every direction; birds, bugs, and whatever is making the bushes rattle. 670 "Not bad," I say, and continue to down the hill. 671 The front of the lodge is two heavy wooden doors. I readjust my footing to pull it open. I take a step inside and almost immediately flinch back when I look to my left and see a stuffed black bear. More taxidermy decorates the space, including the mounted head of a seven-point buck and a boar. Part of the hallway on the second floor is a balcony overlooking the atrium. 672 Part 7 There is a customer service desk, and behind it is a large window showing a gorgeous view of the lake. On the desk is a note saying ring for service, and next to it is a button. I press it, and the ding dong echoes from down a hall. Near the entrance it says employees only. I drum my fingers on the desk until I hear wheels rolling over the hard wood floor. 674 A man in a wheelchair rolls himself out from the employee area. I look over my shoulder, wondering when Lionel came back. Same long black hair only pulled behind his head into a ponytail. His upper body is also built like a brick shit house. 675 "Sorry for the wait. I came running the moment I heard the bell," he says. Seems to be in good humor about his condition. "I'm Lance, one of the owners. Do you have a reservation?" 676 "Not really. Hoping I can squeak in with the 'hit a pothole' special," I say. Lance chuckles a little and pulls out a tablet out from a pocket at his hip. 677 "Those two are still pulling that scam? They won't admit it, but I will. It's a scam. Sorry about them. Hate to say I'm related," he says. He taps the screen of the tablet and pulls up some information I can't see. "We got space. Give you the discount for the pothole of course." 678 "What's the damage?" I ask, and ready my wallet. 679 "First night is on us on account of my family. We usually run one hundred a night. Call it ninety. Card for the deposit?" Lance asks. First night free? Fine by me, so I hand him my credit card. "You got something else? We don't take Discover." I hand him my Visa. So much for my miles. We used that to pay for our trip to Japan last year to visit Jenn's parents. 680 "All the rooms face the lake, so you'll always have a view. Breakfast is from eight to ten just down the hall," he says, pointing down the atrium under the balcony. "Need a cart for your bags?" 681 "Didn't pack anything. Just the one on my shoulder," I say. I could have made a round trip after hours of interview in less than a day, but I had a hotel reserved in New York. Shit, I need to cancel that. 682 "Of course. Assholes," Lance says, and hands me a physical key from under the desk. I hear something snap shut, so he pulled it out from a safe. "In most ways, we've gone digital. But I feel real keys keep a certain level of charm." I agree. 683 "Room number?" 684 "Eight of eight. It's the corner room with the best windows. We don't get many people until summer," he says, and takes a second to direct me to the room. I'm sure he'd walk me over if he could walk. 685 With my room settled, I try to gauge the best time to be an investigator. Katie must have stayed here for at least a night after the Buick hit the pothole. Family-owned business tells me Lance could have been here when she was. I don't think any person I've meet in this town wasn't related now that I think about it. 686 I really hope there isn't some Deliverance shit going on here. 687 "You got a minute to talk?" I ask. 688 Lance looks around the atrium to demonstrate its emptiness. "I have a few customers to help first, but I might have time." 689 "You and Deputy Lionel related?" I ask. 690 "You noticed? He's my twin," he says, and I wonder why he didn't stop in just to say hello to his brother. "We don't talk much." 691 "How long have you worked here?" I ask. 692 "I've been working here around ten. Why'd you want to know?" he asks. 693 "Do you remember this girl?" I ask and show him the picture of Katie. His face recoils back, and he looks up at me. 694 "Yeah, I do. I think her name was Karen. Or Kathy. Something with a K." 695 "Katie," I say, and take the picture back. "You seem to be the only person with a memory in this town." 696 "My uncle will never remember anyone who hit that pothole. In a few days, you'll go down the memory hole too," he says, and I nod. "But yeah. She was here. She stayed in the same room you're about to. I've kind of reserved that as the apology room." 697 "Do you know where she went after she left here?" I ask. 698 "She drove out of town the day her car was fixed. I can probably find her invoice," Lance says, and I thank him for the offer. 699 Katie Grossman came off the exit for something. Maybe she stopped for a bathroom break or to get gas, but then she hit that pothole. She gets towed here and is forced to stay a few days while her car is fixed. Then she leaves, and her trail goes cold again. Then somehow, the gun she brought with her was fired once, and then thrown into an artificial pond in the opposite direction of her assumed travel. Unless she got rid of the gun on her way here, but that defeats the purpose of having it in the first place. 700 I don't think Katie left this town alive. 701 I find my way to the room on the second floor. Rooms one through four are on the first floor. Five through eight are on the second. It is located at the end of the hallway along the path of the balcony overlooking the atrium. The physical key gets me into the room, and I close the door behind me. 702 As promised, I have an incredible view of the lake. The sun is starting to set, and the lake looks ablaze in orange fire. This room also has a corner balcony I can step onto through a sliding glass door. The full-sized bed is inviting right about now with a thick goose down blanket, and I resist the urge to collapse on it. A short dresser is against the wall with a large mirror above it. I look as bad as I feel. The bathroom has a standing shower with a glass enclosure, and fresh towels. 703 I place my backpack next to the bed and sit on one of the chairs next to the small table. I call Jenn to give her an update. 704 "You checked into the hotel?" Jenn asks. 705 "Yeah," I say. I remove my prosthetic to evaluate the damage. I did a lot more walking today than I normally do, and I didn't do it with my running blade. I tug the leg sock off. My stump is red and irritated and the exposure to the air makes it itchy. "I might stay an extra few days." 706 "Why? Did you find something?" Jenn asks. 707 "Katie Grossman was definitely in this town," I say. "Get this. The owner of the garage, him and his son have been digging that pothole for the better part of a decade. Katie hit it, ten years ago, and got stranded just like me." 708 "You are a shit magnet, you know that, right?" Jenn asks. 709 "I know," I say. I dig through my bag and find the lotion for my leg. Basic moisturizer, nothing special. My stump is wrapped in a sock all day and rubs against the prosthetic, so the lotion helps with irritation and cleanliness. 710 "Any idea why she took that exit?" Jenn asks. 711 "None. Bathroom or gas maybe. I can't say for sure either way." 712 "She was pregnant, so bathroom is highly possible," she says. Can't disagree with a pregnant woman. "Speaking of which, my appointment went well." 713 "Do we have a William Luke or a Krista Amanda?" I ask. William for my old partner, Krista for Jenn's mother. 714 "Not telling you," she teases. "Contractor is saying the addition could be complete by mid-June." 715 "They're behind schedule then," I say. 716 "A contractor behind schedule? No way!" she says, and I laugh. "What's your plan?" 717 "Ask around town. See if anyone remembers a girl who showed up ten years ago. I got a bad feeling about it though. Something is wrong about this entire thing," I say. It's a feeling I would get when I still had a badge too. Those instincts can go dull, but they never fully vanish. 718 Someone knocks on my door, and I try to stand up, and tumble forward because I only have one leg. Thankfully, I land on the bed. I'm sure everyone forgets they're not wearing their leg. 719 "You okay?" Jenn asks. 720 "Yeah, I'll call you back," I say, and we both hang up. I hop on one leg to the door and open it while balancing myself on the dresser. It's Lance in his wheelchair with a sheet of paper on his lap. They must have a service elevator I didn't see. 721 "You getting settled in?" he asks. 722 "Getting there," I say. He looks at my lack of a leg, but then hands me the sheet of paper without addressing it. 723 "I think I found her invoice," he says. 724 "Thanks," I say, and quickly scan it while he's still here. Katie paid a whopping twenty-eight dollars. A dollar a day for twenty-eight days. 10 July to 7 August 2009. "Katie was here for almost a month?" Someone must have remembered her if she was here for that long. 725 "Looks like it. Sorry I don't remember much more about her. I just remember my mother took pity on her," Lance says. 726 "No kidding," I say. I'm paying a reduced price as well, but certainly not a dollar a day. I read it again and see something I didn't see on my quick scan. The invoice is for a Katie Rodgers. "Rodgers?" 727 "It must have been what her driver's license said," Lance says. The dates add up, and it makes sense. Get a fake ID and runaway. Any state police looking for a reservation made by a Katie Grossman wouldn't be found. She likely used her father's first name for the last name. 728 "How'd you lose the leg? If you don't mind me asking," Lance says. I look down at my stump, then at his own handicap. "If you show me yours, I'll show you mine." 729 "I was a cop, a few years ago. Car crash," I say. 730 "Fell off a ladder cleaning the second-floor windows. Not as flashy as yours. Mom always said have someone hold the ladder. That's what happens when you don't listen to your mom," he says with a chuckle and a smile. Lionel wasn't kidding when he said he was in good spirits. 731 "Tends to bite you in the ass," I say. 732 "Bit me right on the spine," he says. "I'll see if I can find anything else on her for you." 733 "I'd appreciate it," I say. Lance gives me a nod and rolls himself down the hallway. I lean out to watch him leave and close the door once he's out of my line of sight. 734 -- Tuesday -- April 14, 2020: Four Days Gone 735 ~Midge Appletree~ 736 Sheriff Arthur Knight informs us that Chase stayed at the Whisper Lake Lodge, the only place to stay in the area. We already know this because digital receipts exist, but he's the only person in this town who hasn't tried to blatantly lie to us. Even with the Morts trying to bullshit us, I don't know what that means yet. People lie for dumb reasons, even when they don't have to. You can ask them a question about one thing, and they're lying to hide something else. They could have no idea where Chase is and are just lying to protect their pothole racket. 737 We decide to check into the bed & breakfast later, and instead go to the coffee shop the Sheriff says he met Chase at the morning after he arrived. Careless Whisker. Cute name. When you step in, you are punched in the face by the scent of fresh baked goods and caffeine. My knees go weak, but I recover. 738 "That smell is orgasmic," I say as the Sheriff holds the door open for the lady, and then myself. 739 "Donuts and coffee make a cop cum? You're kidding," Yvonne says as we stop at the long counter that takes up almost the entire length of the room. Donuts, bagels, pastries, and other goodness is displayed for purchase under the counter behind glass. I can hear movement in the back room where the ovens are. A woman is running ten things at once to prepare drinks for customers like a one-woman assembly line. 740 "One moment, be with you shortly," she says while pressing down the grounds for an espresso. It was the early afternoon, but the store was at half capacity. Mostly teenagers and old folk here for the free Wi-Fi. 741 The barista finishes the espressos into two shot glasses and pours them into two separate cups. She pours, mixes, and completes with whipped cream. She then washes her hands and returns to the counter. She's a cute brunette with her hair in a short bob. 742 "What can I get you?" she asks Yvonne first. Her eyes slide to the Sheriff, and she hides them bulging with a blink. The stitching on her apron tells me her name is Stephanie. Early twenties with a college dropout vibe. 743 "Americano and twenty minutes with anyone who remembers this guy," Yvonne says, putting down a five-dollar bill and Chase's picture. Stephanie rings up the order and looks at the picture. It was subtle. Her head stayed still but her eyes jumped to the Sheriff. When she speaks, her volume is lower than when she was taking an order. 744 "I remember him. Can it be after work, I'm still on shift," she says. Yvonne shows her badge. FBI certainly gives her pause, and I see her eyes move to the Sheriff again. She is outwardly calm, but her eyes are nervous. 745 "Make time," Yvonne says sternly. Wrong kind of person for that tactic, Yvonne. 746 Stephanie places Yvonne's coffee at a square table. Yvonne sits across from her, and I sit across from Sheriff Knight. Every table in the café is decorated with a single white lily. 747 Stephanie places a placard on the register saying she was on a break. "FBI? This is serious then?" Stephanie asks. 748 "Serious as a heart attack. Mr. Kramner was in town last we knew, four days ago. Was he here?" Yvonne asks. 749 "He was. Maybe, a day before that. Looking for a girl. I was like twelve when she was here, but my mom remembered her. She's baking in the back right now." 750 "Get her," Yvonne says in the tone of an order. Stephanie reluctantly, but surely, goes to the back to get her mother. 751 "Hey," I say to Yvonne, and she turns to me. "Not how you talk to these people." 752 "Too much?" Yvonne asks as friendly as a nun. It's all an act with her. Stephanie could have easily just told us to go fuck ourselves, and there would be nothing we could do about it. Yvonne is an excellent profiler, but she's too eager to get back into the field. She's making rookie mistakes today. 753 "Too much. People in a town like this, they lock up if they feel threatened. Especially the women. FBI doesn't help, because to them, the F means Foreign." 754 "I thought small towns trust police," she said, just like a city girl. 755 "Small towns trust their police. They trust him," I say, and point at Sheriff Knight. "You elected?" 756 "Every five years for the last twenty-five," Sheriff Knight confirms. "When I need to talk with someone, I bring donuts and just talk to them. Kill them with kindness." 757 "Once a small-town girl, always a small-town girl," I say, pointing toward myself with both thumbs. "I got it." 758 "All you," she says, surrendering control to me for the time being. 759 "What is this all about? FBI?" an older woman asks on the approach. "I got stuff in the oven, make it fast." I'd say the woman is just past fifty. Her once vibrant red hair has taken the hue of an aged red brick. Her size suggests she samples a lot of her products. Not enormous, but she's hefty. The surface area of her apron where her name is stitched on is stretched so far, it makes you think Evelyn is pronounced with six syllables. 760 "I'm Detective Appletree, this is Agent Grimsdotter with the FBI," I say, and Yvonne kicks my foot because I left out the Special. "We need to borrow a little bit of your time?" 761 "Borrow? You gonna give it back to me?" Evelyn asks sarcastically. 762 "Figure of speech," I say, and then hand her the picture. "What do you remember about..." 763 "Mr. Kramner? Yeah, he was here. Pretty boy, looking for a pretty girl. I remember her too. Katie. Long time ago. Hit that pothole your worthless cousins keep digging," she says, looking straight at the Sheriff. There's a history in that look, I'm thinking they were in a relationship. "Why you asking?" 764 "He's missing," I say. 765 "All I know is, he ordered a black coffee and left a card," Evelyn says and pulls a card out of her apron pocket. It's Chase's Private Investigator card. "Besides the one time he was here, I never saw him again." 766 "What about Katie Grossman?" 767 "Grossman?" she asks with a perplexed expression. As if she recognizes that name from somewhere else. I show her a picture of Katie, and her eyes give the impression of calculating long division. She looks at her daughter who has her eyes on her lap. "She told me her name was Rodgers, but she stayed almost a full month. Lived at the lodge on Morgan's sympathies because the girl was expecting. Mort wasn't as nice, so I gave her a job until she could pay to fix the car. All under the table, so don't ask me for her pay stub. We hugged before she left, promised to get in touch, but she never called." 768 Katie Grossman got a fake ID before she ran away. I'm not sure how much those go for, but they sure as hell don't cost several thousand. From my road book, I know Katie could have had upwards to $3000 from her stepfather's items she sold at pawnshops. She went from carrying that amount of cash, to broke, in the time it took for her to drive into a pothole. 769 "Did she ever say where she was going? Her final destination?" I ask. 770 "New York to her father's. She told..." she says, and she pauses like she just figured something out. "...told me she was running away from a bad situation with her stepfather. Never went into detail and I never asked. Girl had her secrets, and I didn't pry," Evelyn explains. 771 This is the only firsthand knowledge for the reason Katie ran away we have. Everything up until this point was pure speculation and conjecture. Katie Grossman was here for a month, not just a few days as we originally speculated. 772 "What car was she driving?" I ask. 773 "Older car. One you'd see in a collection." 774 "1964 Buick Skylark?" I ask. 775 "That's just words to me. The only thing I know about my car is that the left pedal makes it go fast," she says. I hope that was a joke. 776 "This the car?" I ask and show her a picture of the car from the file. 777 "Looks like it. I remember the green," she says, and looks over her shoulder to the back. I listen more intently and hear an alarm for a timer. I developed sonar hearing after having Shawn. "Need to pull some brownies out." 778 "Of course," I say. Evelyn returns to the kitchen, and I look over at Stephanie. "Thank you for your cooperation." 779 "No problem," she says, and is visibly uncomfortable. 780 "College student?" I ask. 781 "Huh?" Stephanie spaced out fast, and I repeat myself. "Dropped out, but I'm taking online courses right now. But um...my boyfriend...uhh..." she stammers. Her speech pattern is unnatural, like someone trying to make something up. "...my boyfriend Hunter, he's still going, though. Ivy league." 782 "Since when do you have a boyfriend named Hunter?" the Sheriff asks. 783 "Hmmm?" Stephanie asks. Everyone knows everyone in a town like this. "Oh, I met him at school. He transferred to complete his graduate degree. He's not from around here." 784 "Ivy League. Impressive," I say without addressing how weird her speech is. "I got a daughter at Sarah Lawrence. Which school is Hunter in?" 785 "Which school?" she asks, and I nod slowly. "Oh...um...Dar...Dar...something." 786 "Darsomething? Dartmouth?" I ask. 787 "That's the one. Yeah. It's hard, but he's surviving," she says awkwardly. Her eyes tilt to the Sheriff, and dart away when he looks at her. You clever girl. 788 "That's all we got for now," I say, and Yvonne nearly jumps from her seat in shock I'm stopping so soon. I grab her knee from under the table to hold her down, and she squirms because I just learned she's ticklish. 789 "Okay," Stephanie says while standing up and tucking her chair under the seat. 790 "Last favor. You didn't give my friend a receipt. We need to keep them for travel reimbursement. We need all the help we can get," I say, and Yvonne swats my hand off her. Stephanie nods and returns to the register for the receipt. Only I notice her writing on it as the three of us stand to leave. 791 "What the fuck?" Yvonne asks from under her breath as we move toward the door. I make sure the Sheriff can't hear. 792 "Shut up for a few seconds and wait," I mutter and take the receipt Stephanie extends out to me. "Thank you. If you remember anything that could help, please call." 793 "If I remember anything," Stephanie says after accepting both of our cards. 794 Part 8 "You hear anything, you call me too," Sheriff says. 796 "Will do Sheriff. Have a nice day," Stephanie says. She removes the sign saying she's on break and resumes work. 797 I step out first and immediately light a cigarette while still walking. I offer one to Yvonne who declines, and the Sheriff doesn't smoke. 798 "Anything helpful?" the Sheriff asks. 799 "Not really, just interesting. If Katie was here for a month, that changes the entire dynamic of her stay," Yvonne says, and I nod in agreeance. "We going to the Lodge next?" 800 "Yeah," I say, flicking the ash away from myself. I want to read the receipt immediately, but I need to be patient with the Sheriff breathing on me. 801 "I'll wait a second, we'll leave together. Can be hard to find sometimes. Best to follow me," the Sheriff says. Just in case I decide I need more words in with Stephanie, he doesn't miss me doing it. He went from the most helpful person, to the most suspicious in mere minutes. 802 "I'm ready now. Just needed a few puffs," I say, squeezing the cherry off. I put the remainder in my empty pack. The Sheriff gets into his car, and I take the driver's seat in our rental. 803 "What the fuck is going on?" Yvonne asks. 804 "What does the receipt say?" I ask. I remove it from my pocket and hand it to her. Yvonne takes it and begins to unfold the paper while I back the car up. 805 "What do you mean what does it..." Yvonne starts to say, looks at the message, and then finally gets on my page. "How the fuck didn't I catch that?" 806 "You've been riding a desk for too long. She didn't want to say anything in front of the Sheriff," I say, and she reads Stephanie's message to me. 807 Whisper Lake Boathouse. 808 "Just when I was thinking he was the only one we could trust," Yvonne says, and neatly rubs the creases off the receipt to take a picture with her phone. "Just in case. What was the deal with Dartmouth that tipped you off?" 809 "Just like Hunter, Chase went to Dartmouth," I say. "That girl was trying to tell us something. For now, we play dumb." 810 There is something at the lake, and the lake just happens to be where we're going. 811 -- Thursday - April 9, 2020: One Day Before 812 -Chase Kramner- 813 Deputy Lionel wakes me up fresh and early by calling me through the lodge. Breakfast was being served, and a woman I presume is Morgan, Lance's mother, asks for my order. I only request a bagel so I can get on the road when Lionel arrives in about twenty minutes. Gives me enough time to waddle up the trail and back to the parking lot. While I have her, I ask a few questions. 814 Morgan is an older woman, early sixties, with the appearance of a fairy tale God Mother. She's short with a cloud of white hair pulled out of her face with hairclips. A face worn down by wrinkles, but I can tell she was quite the beauty in her prime. 815 "I'm a private investigator," I say, and hand her my card after giving my order. "I'm looking for a girl who came by here some time ago." 816 "A girl some time ago?" she asks. She has a grandmother voice too. There is a delay in her reply, and she speaks softly with abnormal gaps between words, suggesting something wrong upstairs. I hand her a picture of Katie. "She looks familiar. How long ago did you say?" 817 "2009," I say. 818 "That's certainly some time ago," she says, and appears to be attempting to remember with sincerity. "Did she stay here?" 819 "Lance gave me her invoice. You let her stay for a dollar a day," I say. 820 "A dollar a...Kathy...Karen...Katie? Katie. Katie, I remember her. Poor thing was carrying a child within her. Had to leave home, girl didn't have two dimes to rub together." 821 Katie left home flush with cash from selling her stepfather's belongings. Did Katie make her believe she couldn't pay and played on her sympathies? 822 "You let her stay basically for free?" I ask. 823 "Not basically, it was free. The dollar a day was solely to keep a record. I didn't have the heart to charge her. Eugene didn't like my kindness, said the girl was a charity case," she explains. 824 "Eugene?" 825 "My late husband," she says, and I nod. 826 "She was here for a month?" I ask. 827 "Just shy it seems. If it weren't for the receipt, I'd never remember." 828 "Did she ever tell you anything about why she ran away?" 829 "I'm sorry, it's been years, and my memory isn't what it used to be," she says. 830 "Of course," I say, and my phone rings. Lionel is calling. "I need to go. I'd like to ask you more questions later if that's possible." 831 "Of course, dear. I won't be anywhere else," she replies. 832 I leave politely and am halfway up the trail when I realize I forgot to get my bagel. 833 -- Careless Whisker is what you get when a small-town kid goes to the big city and tries to replicate a hipster coffee shop. The walls are decorated with local art, which I immediately notice is drawn by the same person, and the covers of vinyl records. The one most prominently displayed is the album Make it Big from Wham! The song Careless Whisper is from that album, hence the name for the café. That was Katie's favorite album too. They also have sponsored a few youth sports teams for soccer, girl's volleyball, and boys wrestling. 834 A barista is making beverages behind a long counter, and I can hear a commotion from the back. A swinging door is pushed open by a second, and larger, woman with a tray of pastries she places on display. The combination of the smells produced by espresso and pastries is making my mouth water. 835 "What can I get you?" the young woman at the counter asks. Stephanie is stitched onto her shirt. 836 "Give me a minute," I say, and review the menu written on a large blackboard. Normal menu items are written with white chalk, seasonal is green, specials are orange. The standard coffee, Americano, salted caramel everything, and cappuccinos are present. I keep it simple with a black coffee and a croissant. 837 "Nice album," I say, and she follows my pointed finger to Wham! 838 "Careless Whisker," she says with a giggle. "My cat walked over the album and I got the idea for the name." 839 "Cute," I say, and remove cash from my wallet to pay. "How long have you lived here?" 840 "All my life," she says, taking my cash. "Except two years of college in Pittsburg. Came back, expanded my mom's bakery into a café. Mom still bakes." 841 "So, you were here, say, ten years ago?" I ask. Something about me asking, especially about ten years ago, makes her uneasy. 842 "You could say that, I guess," she says, and her ability to make change slows down. "Why are you asking about ten years ago?" 843 "Katie Rodgers," I say, and the coins in her hand slip out and spill on the ground. I use the name I must assume she would have known her as. 844 "Umm, what?" she says, and removes herself completely from my sight by crawling for the change. 845 While she's on the floor, I place a picture of Katie on the counter. Stephanie returns with my change and drops it again when she sees the picture. 846 "Keep it," I say, and she is flustered as hell. "I'm not going to ask you if you remember her. Just what you remember." 847 "I don't..." she starts to say but stops pretending. "Why do you want to know?" 848 "I'm a private investigator," I say, and try to hand her my card, but she just stares at it without taking it. I'm about to retract my hand when the large woman from the back snatches the card. Mom is a redhead with long hair, Stephanie is a brunette with a bob. 849 "No soliciting. Didn't you see the sign?" she asks. Her stitching says Evelyn. 850 "Not selling," I say. Evelyn looks at the card, and I watch her eyes slowly raise back up to me. She tucks the card into a pocket of her apron and leans over the counter. 851 "What're you here for then?" Evelyn asks. Her hand sticks to the picture of Katie on the counter, and she picks it up to eye level. "Katie?" 852 "She's been missing since 2009..." 853 "...if her stepfather sent you, you could march your ass right out that door," Evelyn says, and stabs her finger in direction of the exit. She knows about Tom and seems convincingly protective of Katie even ten years later. 854 "He didn't..." 855 "...well, someone did," Evelyn says. She digs her hand into the pocket of her apron and finds my card to read my name before returning it. "Mr. Kramner." 856 "The detective who worked her case when she disappeared hired me. Did Katie ever come here?" 857 "Door," she says, dropping the picture of Katie on the counter, and points to the exit. 858 "Don't you care why she never came back?" I ask, and she grabs my collar and damn near pulls me over the counter. 859 "Mom," Stephanie says, motioning in our direction, but hesitates. Her mother keeps a full fist of fabric from my shirt. 860 "I cared more about that girl than her own family. I gave her a job so she could get to going where she needed to go. She ate dinner at my home three nights a week when she was here. Yeah, I care that she never called, but that's what life is. People promising you shit they don't deliver on," she says, and lets me go. "Get out." 861 "I paid for coffee," I say. 862 "Get your cup, and beat it," Evelyn says, and stomps to the ovens in the back. 863 Stephanie slowly takes an empty cup and pours coffee from a pot. She secures it with a lid and places it on the counter for me to take. 864 "I'm not working for her stepfather," I say, and she looks down at the counter. "Something happened to her, and I will find out what." 865 "Katie was here, then she wasn't. That's all I know," Stephanie says. The bell rings behind me, and I turn my head over my shoulder. Sheriff Knight enters the shop, and Stephanie swipes the picture of Katie off the counter, causing it to gently fall downward to the floor. How instinctual that was for her, is alarming. 866 "Morning all," Art says, making his way to me on his cane. 867 "Morning Sheriff," several patrons say. 868 "Morning Sheriff," Stephanie says, but her gaze is more evasive with him than it was with myself. There is some distressing history between these two. 869 "Chase, getting a head start on me?" Art says, and I turn to face him fully. I can feel the tension radiating from Stephanie, and it started the moment the Sheriff and his cane walked in. I turn away from him, exhale to put on a game face, and pick up the coffee. 870 "Just getting coffee. Haven't even asked a question yet," I say, and take a sip. The coffee is surprisingly good. "Wow that's good. Thank you." I drop a five-dollar bill into the tip jar and walk away from the counter with the Sheriff in tow. "Getting anything?" 871 "I had a cup at the station. Let's get to work," Sheriff says, and directs me to a table. After we sit down, he pulls out rolled up sheets of paper from his pocket and tries to spread it out flat on the table. "Mort is a piece of shit, but he keeps decent records. Only one receipt of him working on a Buick Skylark." 872 Katie Grossman, or Rodgers, seeing how she was consistent in that lie, lost all four tires to the pothole, and damaged the undercarriage, cracking the fuel line. Total bill was $1470. 873 "Highway robbery, I know," Art says. I look at the next document for the police report when the car was reported stolen. "A detective from your neck of the woods came looking for it not long after the GTA was filed. A detective Blanchard. By then, the girl was long gone." 874 Blanchard was only able to get me the name of the town and the repair shop. Better than nothing. 875 "You talk to him?" 876 "I was on medical leave because that's about the time my deputy shot me on accident," he says, holding up the cane. "If someone talked to him, it was Lionel." He dropped me off and went back on patrol. I thought he was younger, but he's old enough to be working this job for over a decade. I need to have a heart to heart with the man when he drives me later today. "Run me through what you got so far." 877 "Katie runs away from home, steals a car that isn't reported for two months. Takes the exit headfirst into a pothole and gets stranded here for repairs. A month later, the car is fixed, and she leaves. That's it." 878 "She didn't have the money on hand to pay for repairs?" he asks. 879 "That's the thing, she should have had the money" I say, and he leans back into his chair some. "When she left, she stole some of her stepfather's electronics and pawned them. Those receipts tell me she had almost $3000." 880 "How'd she go bankrupt that fast?" 881 "Good question," I say. Evelyn had let it out that Katie worked here during her stay, but I don't think it's a good idea to let the Sheriff know I was told that. Not if Stephanie's reaction to his presence is any indication. 882 "Wish I could be more help," Art says. 883 Where did all her money go? Why did she take that exit? Why is Stephanie so scared, and Evelyn so confrontational? What the hell happened to Katie Grossman? 884 "Anyone you'd recommend I talk to?" I ask. Art thinks for a moment. Enough time for me to take a drink and place the cup back on the table. 885 "Stephanie was likely too young. Maybe her mom Evie. She does the baking in the back," Art says, pointing toward the swinging door behind the counter. Evelyn steps out to restock pastries and gives me a death glare when she notices I didn't leave. The woman slaps the pan on the counter when she's done and walks around. 886 "Morning Evie," Art says. 887 "Arthur," she says, and looks at me. "I thought I told you to get." 888 "He's got some questions about..." Art begins but is cut off. 889 "...don't care. Katie left ten years ago, not a word since. Satisfied?" she asks. When neither of us reply, she leaves without another word. 890 "I thought you said you hadn't asked questions," Art says. 891 "Like I said. She didn't give me the chance," I say. Art stares at me. A long, calculated stare. His face relaxes, and he stands up. 892 "Lionel is on call if you need to get somewhere. Just give him a ring when you need a lift," he says. The Sheriff leaves the documents on the table and uses the cane to support his way to the door. 893 I stand up to leave as well, looking toward Stephanie who looks away when our eyes meet. Her mother leans out from the door again and gives me one last warning. 894 Stephanie knows something, but I can't ask it here. Not with her mother, or the Sheriff, nearby. I collect the documents but leave my cup behind after writing my number on the side. 895 -- Mort Senior calls to let me know the car will be ready first thing in the morning. I say I'll pick it up at noon and hang up. After being forced to vacate the coffee shop, I start the real grunt work of investigating; talking to people. 896 I go business to business and knock on doors. Every random passerby is asked if they remember Katie Grossman. I surprisingly get a few who remember her working at the bakery years ago. Some male teenagers just tell me she's hot and laugh at me. Lionel drives me to several homes along the outside of town, but not luck. He drives me back to the downtown area, and I try to think of what I want to ask him. I need a little more time, or more information, before I figure out how to approach him. 897 At the courthouse at the end of downtown, I find a bench and take a breather. I've been at this for six hours, and my stump feels the rawest it ever has. My lotion is in the room, so all I can do is change the sock over the stump. 898 While I rest, I take the time to think about Katie. She was here for a month. She might have even sat on the bench I'm currently sitting on. Sixteen and scared shitless of something, dead broke, pregnant, but getting by from the generosity of strangers in a town like this. Evelyn giving her a job and Morgan giving her a home. Mort fucking her over because every story needs a villain. Then she just leaves. Something about that last part, sounds like the least credible component of the entire story. 899 I call Jenn, but it rings to voicemail. I leave her something brief and generic and hang up. Several minutes pass and I try to work up the energy to continue working. What I miss the most is my stamina. This used to be the most enjoyable part of my job. I loved the physicality of going place to place, talking to people, getting information, and trying to find out what it all means. I feel like an old man past his prime, and I'm only thirty-five. 900 My phone chimes, and I look at it, expecting Jenn, but it's not. It's a number I don't recognize. The message says 'Whisker, ten after closing'. Stephanie? I didn't see their sign for hours, so I return to the job and discretely peek while I walk by. She closes at ten o'clock. 901 -- I call Lionel to come pick me up and drive me back to the lodge. After Stephanie's reaction to the Sheriff, I don't want him tracking my movements and who I'm talking to through Lionel. That alone makes me reluctant to even talk to him. I have spent all day trying to discern the best line of questioning that limits suspicion. 902 "You been a deputy long?" I ask. After my deliberation, I decided masking questions as banal road talk was best. 903 "Thirteen years," Lionel says. "How long you last before your leg?" 904 "About eleven," I say. "Medically retired as a sergeant for special investigations." 905 "Fancy," he says. 906 "Mostly as a liaison with federal agencies and a case auditor." 907 "Close any big ones?" 908 Busted pretty much the entire Irish and Russian Mobs in the city. Discovered a serial killer had framed five men for murder, forcing all the cases to be overturned and two of the men released from prison. 909 "Nothing worth talking about," I say. I'm usually not this humble but talking about that eats the time I have for this conversation. "How'd the Sheriff get the cane? He said someone shot him." 910 "That was my brother on accident when he was deputy with me," Lionel says. "We used to play this game on traffic stops when I'd approach one window and he'd approach the other. Play the repeater," he says with a laugh. That's a classic. "Cleaning his service weapon at his desk. Didn't remove the mag before he started. About ten years ago." 911 "What kind of gun?" I ask. 912 "Same one I got. Glock17," he says, then laughs a little. 913 "What's funny?" I ask. 914 "That's the story the Sheriff is going with. My brother didn't shoot him, accident or on purpose. It's a story he made up and the rest of the town ate whole without chewing. Lance resigned to take care of our mother. I played scissors and got to stay on. Sheriff tells that story so he doesn't have to tell the truth." 915 "What is the truth?" I ask. 916 "No idea. I'm thinking maybe his ex-wife did. About the time they fell apart. Easier to say a dumb deputy did it. Make it a little funny so the medicine goes down," he says, and looks toward me. "Anyway, what are you packing? I heard you tell the Sheriff you got a gun." 917 "Glock44," I say. 918 "44? Is that the caliber?" he asks. 919 "Glock44 shoots .22 long rifle," I say, and he looks at me out of the corner of his eye with bemusement. "I know, .22, do I keep it in my purse? Can't argue with the shot group. Fails to chamber the first round in the mag now and again, but pretty solid gun." 920 "I don't begrudge a man for his gun tastes. Most of the city folk we get around here -- when we get them -- you'd think a gun could turn into a snake and bite 'em," he says. "Even if you keep it in your purse." 921 I watch the sign for the lodge as we drive past it. 922 "Were you the one who talked to Detective Blanchard when he came looking for the car?" I ask. Lionel takes a moment to understand the question and asks me to repeat it. 923 "That girl's car? The one she stole?" Lionel asks. 924 "Allegedly." 925 "Yeah, I talked to him back then. Told him what we told you. Gave him the name Katie Rodgers, and that was that. Hadn't seen her or the car for some time, so we didn't have much to tell him," Lionel explains. Blanchard did the bare minimum and let it go cold. Best case, he got a photocopy of her driver's license, found it was a fake, and that's all she wrote. Blanchard wasn't looking for Katie; he was looking for a car. 926 Part 9 Lionel pulls the car up to the gravel parking lot, and I step out. 928 "Between you and me," Lionel starts, and I pause at the door. "The Sheriff has most of the town fooled, but it's all an illusion. Good policing comes a far second to his reputation. Get on the wrong side of that, and you'll be doing bitch work, like driving a PI around instead of patrolling." 929 Lionel doesn't like his Sheriff. Good to know. 930 "Thanks for the lift. See you tomorrow," I say. I close the car door and walk while looking over my shoulder to ensure he drives away. 931 Once he leaves, I plan on making my way back on foot to downtown. On the roads, it's over two miles. Through the woods, it'll feel like five. Lionel dropped me off at six, and I start walking at eight. 932 It's in the low sixties, which is a comfortable temperature for a walk through the woods. Right off the lodge I find a hunting trail, and if my GPS is to be believed, it should take me to the main road less than two hundred meters north of downtown. I'm sorely mistaken when the trail starts to circle back toward the lake. Pausing to catch my breath, I take the moment to determine if I should take my chances with the trail, or rough it off the path. 933 I turn the light off from my phone, so my eyes don't become unadjusted to darkness. As my eyes regain focus, I look down the trail that curved back to the lake and see a light in the distance. I look toward the darkness off the path. I look at my leg. A few years ago, I could do this no problem. Now I have limits. 934 The light at the end of the path is a large boathouse on the edge of the lake. A wide single-story structure expanding thirty feet off the shore. The boathouse is painted dark, and the only lights I see on, are porch lanterns on the side of doors wide enough to tow a boat through. The trail runs along the side of the boathouse, and a dirt road travels toward the main road someone would take to the lodge. As I follow the trail, I walk along the side of the structure and past a window. I peek inside as I do and see what one would expect in a boathouse near a lakeside lodge: canoes; oars; ropes; various nautical supplies; something the shape of a car under a tarp...you gotta be shitting me. 935 I turn the light of my phone on and shine it into the boathouse. The light beam shines over the tarp, and I look at the time. I must get moving for my meeting with Stephanie, so take a picture and start moving. I'll have to investigate this later. 936 The path took me all the way to the road, just outside of town. And it only took me the full two hours to get there. The clock is striking ten when walk onto main street. Careless Whisker is in the middle, so I wait across the street for Stephanie to leave. I check my phone after waiting a few minutes, and she's late. At twenty after, my phone chimes with a message. That number sent me a message, which is just the period punctuation. I reply with two periods, and ten seconds later Stephanie leaves, and looks for me. 937 Stephanie sees me, and then ducks into her car. She backs up into the street and pulls far to the right with her window down. 938 "Get in," Stephanie says. I make sure the Sheriff or other deputies aren't around and open the passenger door. "Back door, lay down." I dive into the backseat and lay across the entire space. "Sorry, but we're driving past the station, and I don't want them spotting you." 939 "You gonna tell me why?" I ask. 940 "Not here. Be quiet," Stephanie says, and I shut up for the time being. 941 All I can do is wait. I try to memorize the turns of the drive just in case I misjudged this, and I'm being delivered to my death. I count the streetlights as we pass under them. Three lights, left turn. Four lights, right turn. Seven lights, left turn. I hear the buzzing sound and see the red glow of a neon sign. The road becomes bumpy, and gravel crunches beneath the tires of the car. 942 "You can sit up now," Stephanie says. I push myself upright and evaluate my surroundings. My phone tells me the drive took twenty minutes on mostly paved roads until we arrived at a trailer park. Stephanie parks in front of a doublewide and kills the engine. 943 "Why the cloak and dagger?" I ask. 944 "We'll talk inside," Stephanie says. We exit the car, and Stephanie is still looking over her shoulder. She leads the way up a wooden porch to her home and opens the door with a key. 945 Stephanie's home is sparsely furnished, but what she does have is well organized and placed to fill the space. A couch and chair, no coffee table. A flat screen is mounted to the wall. A milk crate full of records is on a shelf below a record player. Her dining room table has two chairs and a half-built puzzle on top of it. Besides a microwave and refrigerator, the only other appliance visible is the coffee maker. 946 "Mind the mess," she says. She tosses her keys into a bowl on her countertop. It's clean. I think apologizing for a messy house is just etiquette regardless of the mess. 947 "I have a toddler, I've seen worse," I say. 948 "How'd you lose the leg?" Stephanie asks. 949 "Car crash," I say, and she knows I'm leaving something out. "You gonna tell me why I'm here?" 950 "Katie promised me she'd let me know she go there safely," Stephanie says. She inhales and releases the breath, then shakes her head. "That was over ten years ago." 951 "Were the two of you close?" I ask. 952 "Like sisters," she says, and points to the records. I flip through them and see Katie's handwriting in purple sharpy. "Those belonged to Katie." 953 "So does the Wham! album at the Whisker," I say, and she nods. "Do you also have her saxophone?" She shakes her head, telling me she took that with her. "Why are you so uncomfortable around the Sheriff?" I ask after several seconds of deep silence. 954 "I've never liked him. He was my stepfather once upon a time," Stephanie says. 955 "Your mom and the Sheriff?" I ask. An Irish Redhead with a black ass. At least that has context now. "He told me he didn't remember Katie at all." 956 "He's lying. They shared a dinner table over a dozen times," Stephanie says. 957 "You think he's involved?" I ask. 958 "Nothing goes on in this town without him knowing," she says. 959 "I need something more than you just not liking him," I say, but she doesn't say anything to reinforce her belief. 960 I see pictures around the record player on the shelf. She's smiling with Katie, sitting on the floor while surrounded by the records. Katie is visibly pregnant in the photo. 961 "Did she tell you about the pregnancy?" I ask. 962 "Just that she was planning on raising it herself," she says. I keep scanning the photos and see a picture of Stephanie with a man. She was younger than she was with Katie. "That's my dad. I haven't seen him since that picture was taken." 963 "Did Katie ever tell you her real name?" I ask, and to my surprise she nods. 964 "Grossman," Stephanie says. "She didn't plan on getting stuck in Whisper, but she did plan on stopping by. To meet me." 965 "What?" I ask. 966 "Katie was my sister," she says, and points to the photo still in my hand. "Half-sister. We had the same dad." Stephanie is the child her father had with a different woman. That's why Katie took the exit. Her being in the town wasn't an accident. "My mom didn't know. Still doesn't." 967 "How did you know about each other?" I say and put the photo down. 968 "Our dad cheated on her mom, and here I am. He accidently sent a child support check to the wrong house, and Katie intercepted it. Apparently, her mom never got him with a court order. She just remembered her mom drunkenly bitching about my very existence." So, her mother was always a drunk. 969 "Katie had a lot of money when she ran away, so how'd she get stuck here?" I ask. Stephanie slides over so I can take the seat next to her on the couch. 970 "She said she wished she hadn't thrown it out the car on the drive. One final fuck you to her stepfather. Katie kept enough for food and gas, but not enough to fix a car," Stephanie explained. 971 "Her gun?" I ask. 972 "I was twelve. She didn't tell me about it or show me it." 973 "What do you think happened to her?" I ask. 974 "I don't know what happened, but Katie would have called. I know she would have." 975 "Where was the last place you know she was in town?" I ask. 976 "She checked out of the lodge, and my mom drove her to pick up her car. We watched her drive away. I never saw or heard from her again," she says. She was on her way out of town when whatever happened, happened. That car under the tarp? Could it be the Buick Skylark? Are they that stupid? 977 "If something happens to me, there is a car under a tarp in a boathouse near the lodge," I say, and Stephanie's face jolts up. 978 "You don't think," Stephanie says, and I nod. "All this time, it was right there?" 979 "I don't know that for sure, but we have to find out," I say. 980 Stephanie is reluctant, but agrees we need to do it tonight while we still have the cover of darkness. She tells me there are several utility roads around the lake, and that the boathouse is likely off a service road to tow boats into the dock. I try my best to describe it to her as we drive over. I refuse to be sprawled out in the back this time. 981 I count the lights again. This time I have better landmark awareness. When she turns off the road, she kills her lights. She is paranoid someone will see her. 982 Because of the darkness and her insistence on keeping it that way, it takes nearly twenty minutes to get back to the service road. It rightfully should have been a five-minute drive. Slowly she turns onto the service road, only enough to take the back bumper off the pavement and stops. 983 "Far as I go," she says. 984 "Are you serious?" I ask, my eyes pointing at my leg. 985 "I still have to live here tomorrow," she says. Fair point. "Take a peek, then go back to the Lodge. Let me know tomorrow." 986 "Fine," I say, and open the car door. Her hand jumps up to block the dash light. I've seen some skittish people, but she is something else. I take three steps and she starts backing up. In seconds, she's driving down the street. 987 I limp down the road cursing to myself again. I've never missed my car more. I promise, I will learn basic maintenance when I get home. Change my own oil. Rotate my own tires. My son will learn these skills and never be me; a sweaty, dusty, amputee, who drives into a pothole. 988 "I hate this whole fucking town," I grumble to myself. 989 The boathouse enters my vision as a dark silhouette. The closer I get, the details become finer, and eventually I see the glow of the lamps on the opposite side. My eyes are so fixed on the building, I don't see a tree root and jam my real toe against it. I have to catch my balance on a fake leg, which just isn't happening, so face plant into a waist high bush along the dirt road. 990 "Motherfu..." I start to shout but cut myself short. Thankfully, it wasn't full of thorns. A thick leafy bush that somewhat cushioned my fall. Thin branches, somewhat prickly, that held onto my clothing when I tried to pull away. It grabbed at my shirt and refused to give. "Let go," and I tug away. The noise of my shirt tearing sounds like duct tape being separated from the roll. "Mother..." I need to keep it quiet. I'm about to break and enter private property. 991 I get out of the bush and determine the damage. The right of my shirt is torn from the waist to halfway up the armpit. "Shit." 992 After nearly losing my shirt, I finally arrive at the boathouse again. I use the light on my phone to watch my footing. I shove my phone back in and tip toe - emphasis on the singularity of that phrase -- to the window of the boathouse. It doesn't look like anything has changed in the few hours since I've been here. The same ropes. The same kayaks and boats. The same nondescript tarp over a car. 993 "Are you that stupid?" I ask. Now or never. 994 There is a thick chain wrapped around the handles of the doors, sealed shut with a heavy lock. They're not doing a great job at hiding it, but they definitely want to make it hard to get to. I tug at the lock and rotate it around in my hand to examine it. Industrial sized, polished silver with a black spin dial 1-49. It's a heavy lock, weighing over a pound. Spin dial means I couldn't pick it even if I knew how to pick locks. The chain is as sturdy as the lock. 995 "That's some hefty security," I say. 996 I take a slow lap around the boathouse, trying to find the best way inside while minimizing evidence of my presence. The windows are locked from the inside. The dock isn't in the house, but off the side stretched over the water. One lap later I'm back at the padlock. 997 Time to break something. I return to the lowest window I can find; the same one I took the picture through and determine the best way to smash it. The window is two feet tall and two feet wide. A perfect square with four internal squares divided by a cross of treated wood. 998 I take off my shirt and wrap it around my hand several times. Gripping the excess and my gun, I deliver a firm punch, shattering the lower right quadrant. With space clear, I reach through window and unlock it. The I push it up and climb inside the boat house. 999 I holster my gun, put my shirt back on, and walk to the tarp. My fingers wrap around the cloth, and I hesitate. What happens if this is bullshit? What if it's a speed boat and I misinterpreted the shape? I take a deep breathe, exhale, and pull the tarp up. 1000 1964 Buick Fucking Skylark. Metallic mint green paint with a white convertible top. I pull the tarp back far enough to reveal the driver's door and crack it open. The inside is relatively clean, so someone has been taking care of it. 1001 The case of a saxophone is in the back seat. I find the handle to lower the front seat, and crawl into the back. On the case of the saxophone, is a small plaque. K Grossman. I also find a small box filled with tapes. Cassette tapes used in small handheld cameras. Nothing up until this point indicates she had tapes with her. They might not even be Katie's. On the floor behind the passenger seat is a black bag containing a video camera the tapes go to. 1002 I exit the car and pull at the tarp until it is all the way off. I try the trunk, but's its locked. I return to the driver side, but do not see a trunk release button. Older car, not surprising. For several minutes I try to jimmy it, but not luck. Breaking into the trunk of cars is not a skill I possess. 1003 At this point, I've done enough. I found the car in a place it has no earthly business being in. Someone will have some serious explaining to do. Something tells me Katie's body isn't far away either. The lake? Buried in the woods? I pull the tarp over the car and move toward the window I came through. At that moment, the chains start rattling. Someone is coming inside. 1004 "Shit," I whisper to myself and try to time my exit with this person entrance. When the lock cracks open, I mask the noise of my departure with the chains being removed. 1005 I press my back to the side and peer into the boathouse as the doors open. Mort Junior is here now and turns on a light with a string above the door to a single bulb. He places a single white lily on the center of the floor after removing the wilted petals and stem of a dead flower. The light hums in the room, and Junior slides the tarp off the car, but hesitates, as if the tarp isn't the way he left it. He looks around the room, and kind of shrugs it off. 1006 He opens the door and reaches toward the back for the camera bag. He sits in the driver's seat and removes the camera from the bag, and then places the bag on the driver's seat. The camera is charged, and he flips open the side screen and hits play. 1007 "My name is Katie Grossman," the camera says, and Junior smiles when she starts speaking. "I'm a pregnant sixteen-year-old runaway. I'm a cliché." I can hear the girl from the window, and her voice is oddly soothing. Full of life and happy, even with her circumstances. 1008 "All my friends think I'm weird because I like eighties pop music..." she says, and Junior pauses the video. He turns straight to the window and I lean away. Did he hear me? I hear him exit the car, so I crawl on all threes under the window and around back. 1009 "The fuck?" Junior says. He noticed the window was broken. I need to get out of here. When I'm clear out the back, I swing my leg back up toward the service road. 1010 Junior killed her and kept everything as a fond memory. Maybe he regrets doing it, but he's the one with the car. I trip on that same tree root as those thoughts rush through my mind, and crash to the ground. 1011 "Who's there?" Junior asks, and I scramble to the road. As I arrive, I see lights coming up the road, and wave my hands to flag them down. The car pulls to the side, and I see it's a dark colored Ford Bronco. The door opens, and I hear the Sheriff after he shines a light into my face. 1012 "Sheriff?" I ask, squinting into the blinding light. 1013 "Mr. Kramner?" Art says back. "Jesus, what the hell are you doing out here?" I could ask him the same thing, but he's likely on patrol. 1014 "Going for a walk. You on patrol?" I ask. 1015 "Little late for a walk, but why are you flagging me down?" he asks. 1016 "You mind?" I ask. The light turns off, and it takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to darkness again. It starts in spots, but slowly returns to normal. "Got lost, hoping to find a ride back." 1017 "What are you really doing out here son?" Art asks. 1018 Do I admit it? Breaking and entering won't look too good regarding the sustainment of my investigator's license. Stephanie doesn't trust this man, but thus far, I haven't had a reason not to. He's helped me, but on the other hand, all the information he's managed to get me was just confirming things I already knew or suspected. Things that would make you look somewhere else for Katie Grossman. 1019 "Running a lead. I know the last place Katie was known to be, was around the lodge," I say. Not entirely true, but I need the reason to be here. 1020 "Not following you," Art says and closes the distance until he's in arms reach with his hand resting on his gun. "What's this all about? You taking a walk, or checking a lead. You're kind of all over the place." 1021 "Both," I say. 1022 "Just tell me what's going on. I'll help you." 1023 "Katie Grossman's car is in the boathouse down the road," I say. I need to see his reaction. His head leans back like a flinch. 1024 "Come again?" he asks. 1025 "The Buick is in the boathouse," I say. He sighs while shaking his head. "Mort Junior is down there right now." 1026 "Junior has her car? Show me." 1027 Junior is still looking around the boathouse for me, and turns fast when he hears footsteps approaching. Art shines the light again, and Junior holds his hands to block the light. 1028 "You want to explain yourself Morty?" Art asks, and Junior starts trembling. Art pulls his gun up and tells Junior to lead him to the front. When we arrive, he tells Junior to stay in place, as he examines the car. "The fuck is the matter with you?" 1029 Junior is silent, his eyes turning to me in desperation. I don't understand his expression. Something is off, and I can't tell what it is. Is he warning me? I reach for my gun, but when I turn back to the Sheriff, his gun is aimed right at me. 1030 "Don't even think about it," he says to me, and then turns to Junior. "We told you to get rid of the car. Does this look like getting rid of it?" Art asks. Who is we? "Now we got problems because you can't listen." 1031 "Where is Katie?" I ask. 1032 "You're ten years too late son," he says, then motions for Junior to take my gun. I raise my hands and let him do it. Not like I can kick him off, control it, and run. A few years ago, I had options. Not anymore. 1033 "What now?" I ask. "Shoot me and bury me next to Katie?" 1034 "I'm thinking about it," Art says. "Problem is, that's bloody, and that leaves evidence." 1035 Art's been doing this awhile. He knows how investigations work and is careful because of it. Bullets and blood leave evidence. "Grab some rope, tie him down." 1036 Part 10 "Then what..." 1038 "...shut up," he interrupts, and Junior does as told. He bounds my wrists behind my back with deck line and starts my feet. "He's missing a leg you dumb fuck." 1039 Art rubs his own leg with his non-firing hand. He forgot his cane, so he's not used to walking this much, or standing for so long without support. He was shot. Ten years ago. Katie fired one shot. 1040 "How much did that .38 hurt?" I ask, and he looks down at his hands rubbing, then back to me with a grin. 1041 "Burned like a piece of charcoal in your flesh," he says, then straights up. "Pulled her over, that how I like to get them. Right off the road I just found you. She must have practiced a few times because she drew that revolver like a gunslinger. Got away from me, but she didn't get far." 1042 "Who's your partner?" I ask. 1043 "This isn't the part where I tell you my secrets," he says, and orders Junior to open the trunk. He does as told. Junior is mighty talented at being told what to do. Art steps aside, telling me to walk. 1044 "Shoot me, I won't go in there on my own," I say. Art closes the distance and raises the gun to strike me. Because I'm bound, he's lowered his level of caution, and telegraphs the swing too much. I duck under it, and throw myself forward, ramming the top of my head into his face. I fall forward to the ground as he wobbles backwards into the car, spitting blood. 1045 "You're a scrappy fucker," he says while laughing. "If that leg is slowing you down, you'd be force to be reckoned with two of them," he says, and then punts the side of my head. His boot hit me straight in the ear, and I coil my chin to my shoulder in case he does it again. "Now you're just a cripple who hasn't learned his limits." My vision is blurred, I feel blood from my ear, and that ringing is making me feel sick. 1046 "Get him up," Art says, and Junior grabs the back of my collar and the ropes to pull me to my foot. "Get him in." 1047 Junior pushes me forward, but I use my real foot to halt the advance. I push against the rim of the trunk. Junior grunts as I resist. Even with one leg I'm still able to toss him backward. 1048 "I really do need to do everything, don't I?" Art says. I feel his bicep around my neck. His hand grasps the other bicep. The top of his opposite hand is on my head. I try to pinch my chin down, but it's too late. I remember his wrestling trophies, so I know he won't mess this up. If a carotid choke hold is used correctly, the person in it will be unconscious in only a few sec... 1049 -- Tuesday -- April 14, 2020: Four Days Gone 1050 ~Midge Appletree~ 1051 The parking lot for the Whisper Lake Lodge is stupidly far away from the main structure. There is no road leading straight to the lodge to even unload your bags. I roll my suitcase behind me, walking three strides behind Yvonne who is carrying an overnight bag on her shoulder. 1052 "I don't see a boathouse," Yvonne says. I scan around the area and do not see one. 1053 "It's here somewhere," I say, also keeping my head on a swivel. 1054 "Am I really that out of practice?" Yvonne asks. 1055 Yvonne looks depressed she missed such an obvious message from Stephanie. Granted she didn't know where Chase went to school, but I'm shocked she didn't notice her erratic eye movements. She was recruited by the FBI straight out of graduate school, so she was never a street cop. She's never spoken to a wife with a black eye who said she ran into a door. I have. It's how I met Gianna. 1056 Gianna was on shift at the ER when a battered wife came in. She fell down the stairs apparently, but Gianna knew better and called the police. I took her statement, and tried to talk to the wife in private, away from her husband, but she wouldn't budge. It was frustrating, but the first step is wanting that help. She told me she saw that kind of situation too often, and I agreed. I fell in love with the redhead in blue scrubs instantly. My gaydar has always been decently accurate, and with Gianna it was pinging. She was separated from her cheating, gambling addicted husband, so was vulnerable to a talented hetero flipping lesbian. 1057 I didn't learn she had three kids until after I got her in bed twice. That honestly terrified me. Wesley was only two when we started going out. Two years later, I couldn't live without them. 1058 "It happens to the best of us," I say to reassure Yvonne. 1059 "The blue blind spot?" Yvonne asks. Assuming good intentions because someone was in law enforcement. 1060 "You're still knocking the cobwebs off," I say. I kind of like Yvonne feeling inferior for a change. 1061 Yvonne curses out loud when she sees a stuffed bear just inside of the door. I don't understand taxidermy. Isn't it enough to kill the animal and eat it? Must we make trophies? 1062 "That's Big Ben. I keep him there just for the laughs," a man says from the reception desk. I watch the man maneuver himself around the desk in a wheelchair. "Grimsdotter and Appletree?" 1063 "Good guess," Yvonne says. 1064 "You're my only reservation. Rooms all set, just need to confirm payment," the man says. He removes a tablet from a pocket of the chair and puts it on his lap. The girth of his arms tells me he's compensating for his legs. Men shouldn't have ponytails in my honest opinion. 1065 "Before we settle that, I'd like a quick word about a recent guest you had," Yvonne says. The man pauses, and slowly looks up to our badges. 1066 "Only recent guest I've had is a private investigator," he says. 1067 "Chase Kramner?" I ask, and he nods. "What's your name?" 1068 "Lance." 1069 "Lance what?" 1070 "Lance Portman," he says. 1071 "Did he check out?" I ask. 1072 "Not yet. I saw, he came back in on Thursday evening, left on Thursday night. Only reason I know that is just over my shoulder," he says, and points at a camera. "Want the footage?" 1073 "If you wouldn't mind," Yvonne says. Lance touches his tablet and opens an app connected to his camera system. It archives the footage, and he lets us know it's set to auto delete it after a month to save digital storage space. He finds the footage and extends the tablet to me. 1074 Chase entered the reception area with a backpack slung over his shoulder at around six in the afternoon on the ninth. He left at around eight in the evening with the same bag and clothes. 1075 "Can he check out on his phone, or does he have to do it here?" I ask. 1076 "This tablet or the computer attached to the register is the only way," Lance says. I want the rest of his footage, which he says won't be a problem. 1077 "Did he for some reason, tell you about what he was doing here?" Yvonne asks. 1078 "Katie Rodgers?" he asks. "Yeah, I gave him her invoice too. She stayed for a month." 1079 "Do you remember anything about her?" 1080 "Nothing worth sharing," Lance says. 1081 "Let me decide whether it's worth sharing," Yvonne says. 1082 "I don't know what you want me to tell you," Lance says. 1083 "For now, we'd like the same room Mr. Kramner stayed in," I say, and he gives a harsh sigh while playing with his tablet. "Something wrong?" 1084 "Technically, I can't. On paper, it's still occupied," he says. "I'll let you in at a bare minimum. Any other room. One or two rooms?" 1085 "Two," Yvonne says. She told me she planned on having Skype sex with her boyfriend tonight. I don't need that in my room. 1086 "Mr. Kramner stayed in room eight," Lance says, and hands me two keys. One for Chase's room, and one for myself. He hands Yvonne a key as well. 1087 Yvonne is in room seven, I'm in room six, both on the second floor. The view is breathtaking. The sunlight glistening off the lake is gorgeous. The shadows casted by the surrounding woods envelopes the lake in an ominous halo of darkness. Private homes have small docks and boats at various points around the lake. There are several boathouses. 1088 Yvonne tells me she needs to check in with her supervisor, which I know she doesn't. Checking in with your ASAC doesn't involved a locked room and a webcam. I tell she has ten minutes before we get back to work. 1089 I drop my bag off and leave my room. Chase's room has been cleaned, but it looks like it was completely unoccupied. He probably only had one bag, so it's not like he could get it too messy to begin with. I leave and press my ear to Yvonne's door and listen for a moment. She's talking to her boyfriend, promising she hasn't been smoking. The sounds associated with clothes coming off, the swiping motion of fabric across skin. The ruffling sound of womanly hips shimmying their way out of pants. I need to stop listening before I get wet. We got work to do, so I hope she can finish in ten minutes. 1090 The bed and breakfast is the kind of place I would consider bringing Gianna to. Wendy watches the kids. Worse case Shane takes Shawn. Romanic weekend with my wife, peddle boating across the lake. Sit in front of a fire in the lobby, her drinking wine while I sip whiskey. Make love with the windows open at sunset. 1091 The hallway of the second floor has one wall that is nothing but floor to ceiling windows. The view from the rooms is the lake, but the hallway faces the trees. From the second floor I can see only the trunks of the trees, creating a strange illusion that I'm much higher than I truly am. It's scenic, and I'm instantly calm. 1092 "Hey babe," I say when Gianna answers the phone. 1093 "You in Pennsylvania?" 1094 "I am," I say, and lean forward against the glass. "It's really pretty here. The kind of place you've said you'd like to go." 1095 "You get to go with the Nordic Queen on an all-expenses paid trip," Gianna says. She trusts me around Yvonne, seeing how Yvonne is straight. Unyieldingly straight. She has a healthy love of penis. 1096 "When I get back, maybe we should take a trip. Bribe Wendy to take the kids for a weekend," I suggest. 1097 "Maybe this summer. Pick a place, start planning it now," Gianna recommends. I do have the leave time. We haven't been able to put much money away since Shawn, but we have enough for a nice weekend. I think we need it. Our marriage needs it. 1098 "I was just checking in. A lot of work to do here," I say. 1099 "Me too," she says. I hear the PA system of the hospital behind her, so I know she's at work. "Call me at when you're done for the day. Love you." 1100 "I love you too," I say. 1101 After the phone call I take the time to explore the second floor. I see a small service elevator hidden off to the side. It's likely how they move heavy luggage, and how Lance gets his wheelchair upstairs. Four rooms are upstairs, and four are below. It's a simple, scenic lake side lodge in the woods. I grew up in small town America, and it's not often I miss part of it. I don't miss pray the gay away. I sometimes miss the quiet. 1102 While Yvonne is likely finger banging herself in perfect rhythm with her boyfriend's strokes, I descend to the first floor. The stairs are under the balcony of the second floor. Just off the stairs is a large stone fireplace with cushioned leather chairs surrounding tables. A shelf has stacks of board games and puzzles to entertain families. There are brochures and signs advertising local activities. The lodge didn't own any of the additional activities, it just advertised them. Maps for hiking. Canoeing. Speed boating. 1103 "I know you're here for work, but anything you want to do while you're here?" Lance asks. I turn from the brochures to see him in his chair rolling up from the reception area. 1104 "Water cold this time of year?" I ask. 1105 "A little brisk, but bearable if that's your thing," he replies. "You should check out Callie's Cliff. Landmark around here. Just follow the trail north." Heights, no thank you. 1106 "Swimming, not so much. Wouldn't mind getting on the water though," I say. Best way to find a boathouse is to find a boat. 1107 "Unfortunately, most of that stuff is seasonal. They don't open until May," Lance says. "We have our own boat, but it's dry docked right now. Otherwise, my mother could have taken you. Though, she's not all there all the time." 1108 "Cognitively?" I ask, and he nods. 1109 "It comes and goes. She forgets things she just did. Sometimes she thinks I'm my dad who died fifteen years ago. Stuff like that," Lance says. "Part of why I came back to work here. Her health declined ten years ago, and it's only gotten worse." 1110 "What were you doing before?" I ask. 1111 "I was a cop. Sheriff's Deputy," he says, and I guess he noticed me looking at his legs. "It actually happened after I left. Fell off a ladder of all things." 1112 "Were you a cop when Katie was here?" I ask, and he shrugs. 1113 "My transition occurred while she was here. I took over the books, and mom had been running the place into the ground since my dad died. She let Katie stay for free, and we must have gone a hundred rounds over that." 1114 "You and your mother?" 1115 "Yeah, but how do you argue with someone who forgets the conversation every time you have it?" Lance asks, and I nod in understanding. "I just had to let it go." 1116 "Did you interact with Katie when she was here?" I ask. Yvonne is too abrasive. Sometimes the best way to interview people, is to not interview, and just talk to them. 1117 "Not much. Part of her deal was she cleaned her own room and changed her own sheets. Maybe we rubbed shoulders once or twice, but certainly never a conversation. I know she worked for Evie while she was here, but that's all I know," he says. 1118 "Mind if I walk the grounds? Poke around?" I ask. 1119 "Feel free. If it's not locked, go ahead. I'd join you, but, you know," he says, and politely rolls away from me. 1120 I return upstairs to get Yvonne so we can get back to work. I knock on her door, but only hear a soft buzzing sound. I slam the underside of my fist against the door hard. 1121 "Times up, get your panties on," I say. The buzzing stops, and I hear steps approaching the door. It cracks open, and Yvonne's eyes peer out. "Let's go." 1122 "Five minutes..." she starts, and I push my way past her. I get a full view of her boyfriend's hand gripping his cock on her computer screen. 1123 "Sorry Greg, you gotta finish without her," I say, and slap her computer shut. "Let's go." I turn around and Yvonne is not wearing her pants. She had the decency to put her panties on, or maybe never even took them off. "You tell me there is a time and place to smoke. There is a time and place to Skype sex your man." 1124 Yvonne quickly tugs her pants up her legs and we exit her room. I get her caught up on what Lance told me, and how he's okay with us walking the grounds. We exit the hotel and I light a cigarette. I offer one to Yvonne who declines. 1125 "Don't need it. Didn't get to finish." 1126 I always remember how tall Yvonne is when I need to walk side by side with her. Her walk is my trot, and I tell her to slow down. She doesn't, likely spurring me because I interrupted her fun. 1127 "You and Greg good?" I ask just to inject some sound into the quiet. All we can hear is the wind and rustling of the trees. Yvonne takes a long sigh. 1128 "Last week, he proposed again," Yvonne says, and I wait for her to say more. That marks the third occasion he's asked for her hand. "I don't know." That could make a woman smoke. 1129 "You two have only been together for seventeen years. Slow down," I say lightheartedly. 1130 "How long were you and Gianna together before you two got married?" 1131 "Two years. Speed demons. I knew. I knew on the first date. The kids slowed me down," I say. 1132 "You weren't just marrying her," she says, and I nod. "Do you have her name, or does she have yours?" 1133 "We took the man's name," I say, and she laughs. "We kept our names. Wasn't important. Still isn't. Shawn has Shane's last name." 1134 "You let him get away with that?" she asks. 1135 "That mattered to him, and it didn't matter to me. Who cares? Shawn Appletree? Kid is already going to have enough problems at school with lesbian parents," I say. "You guys gave your boys hyphens. Grimsdotter-Bowerstone. What the fuck were you thinking?" 1136 "Marriage feels like submitting to something," she says. She stops walking, finally allowing me to catch up. "What I've never understood about lesbians, is why the hell are you guys so gung-ho about getting married. Isn't marriage part of the patriarchy?" 1137 "Don't lump me in with the gays at the Fulsome Street Fair," I say. That confuses her because she doesn't know what that is. "They shut down a few city blocks in San Francisco and the population engages in a weekend of leather fetishism and homosexual anarchy." 1138 "So, a pride parade?" she asks. 1139 "If a pride parade was butt fucking another pride parade," I say, and she laughs. Call me conservative but, it's too much. 1140 "My logic is, I can't get divorced if I don't get married," she says. It's a weak excuse, but I understand her hesitation. She views it as an unnecessary jinx. Why fix what isn't broke? 1141 "Anyway, boathouse," I say, and point down the shoreline of the lake. I can't even see the lodge from here. The shore is rocky with flat stones making footing difficult to manage without rolling an ankle. We adjust to walk along it, but at the place where the stones meet the dirt. 1142 It's a large boathouse with a dock extending twenty feet off the shore. No boat is currently docked. The house itself has two large doors that open outward. It's not locked, but the heavy wood of the handles has been eaten away by the grinding of chains. That chain is coiled up neatly next to the side, with a large padlock on it. Sergeant and Greenleaf, the same kind used by federal agencies and the military to secure sensitive equipment. Yvonne recognizes it as well. 1143 "GSA certified," she says. General Service Administration. A federal agency that in part streamlines federal regulatory requirements. What kind of buildings federal agencies can use, security regulation for safes and security, things like that. 1144 "These locks are a bitch to open, too," I say. I was in intelligence in the Coast Guard, so I am familiar with the mechanism. You needed to spin the dial a certain way. Three input codes, but the number of full rotations between digits wasn't the same. Three full revolutions right, two full revolutions left, one full revolution right, open. Overkill. You'd typically find these locks on the access ports to classified networks. Here was one, locking a boathouse in rural Pennsylvania. 1145 I pull the one of the doors until it's open enough for the wind to catch it. It crashes into the exterior wall. I saw it happen and I still jumped a little. 1146 "Damn wind," I mutter. 1147 "This is borderline breaking and entering," Yvonne says cautiously. This isn't a TV show where the detectives just barge in and find the evidence to lock the culprit away. These are the kinds of fourth amendment violations that help criminals. Often, police get this far, then create the reason for the warrant in hindsight. I see mine. 1148 "Broken window," I say and point to it. Part of the window is broken, and the glass is on the inside. Meaning someone possibly broke it from the outside. I was responding to a possible break in and needed to enter to search for further evidence of a crime. Time was of the essence because a man is missing. I've seen detectives skate by on less. 1149 "Really pushing it," Yvonne says, but still enters the boathouse before me. I follow her inside. 1150 Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything I figured would be in a boathouse is here. Kayaks, ropes, nets, etc. The floorboards are warped and uneven yet appear newer than the rest of the construction material. Like the floor was replaced by someone not qualified for the work. 1151 There is enough natural light, so I don't need a flashlight. The first thing I confirm is the glass on the floor. Definitely from the window, and recent. No dust has collected on the glass, and no one has cleaned up the mess. 1152 "Is this?" I ask and open the binder. I find the photo Chase took through a window and look behind me. It's hard to make out, and I wouldn't submit for evidence in a trial, but it's enough for me. This is where Chase took that photo. 1153 Part 11 "Glove up," I say. I packed some gloves in a zip lock baggie, and hand a pair to Yvonne. I forgot she has man hands, and I nearly laugh at her struggle. The mouth of the glove is above her wrist and nearly to her thumb. 1155 "Do you shop at Baby Gap?" Yvonne jokes while showing me how silly her hand looks. 1156 "As a matter of..." 1157 "...for yourself, smart ass," she interrupts. "Why would a barista tell us to come here? What does she think we'll find?" 1158 "Not sure yet, but Chase needs to learn to turn off the flash. I'm thinking the car. Big enough to house one. You saw that lock," I say. 1159 "They moved it then," Yvonne says, and closes her eyes to smell the air. She's smelling for oil, gas, fumes, anything car related. There are too many natural scents to isolate it if it was here. 1160 I lower myself into a catcher's squat in the only space where a car could fit comfortably. I run my gloved finger over the wood, feeling for any inconsistency. Several times I feel a splinter nearly puncture the glove. I walk toward the doors, and then do the same thing. It's smoother. 1161 "What's up?" Yvonne asks. 1162 "The back of the room was scrubbed, but the front wasn't," I say. "The wood is smoother toward the front. Not sanded smooth, but smoother. Like someone did it in a hurry. They scrubbed with a brush, and it made the wood fray and splinter." 1163 "Someone cleaned something up. Blood?" 1164 "I'd say oil," I say. "Engine oil. No matter how hard you try, you always leak a little bit," I say, then stand upright again. I push my toes, then heels, against the boards. The house is built on a raised platform. At its highest, maybe half a foot. I search to find the most heavily splintered space. I find my flashlight and shine it down the space between the boards. Not much of a gap, but I'm looking for something reflective. I see what looks like wilted flower petals. It takes nearly a minute, but I do eventually see a shimmer. 1165 "Yvonne," I say, then direct her to my light beam. I run it back and forth over so she can see it as well. 1166 "They cleaned up an oil spill?" she asks. 1167 "Let's get a warrant to tear up the floor for starters," I say. "Has it rained in the last five days?" I do a quick look on my phone, but I need to walk out of the house for reception. "No rain. Might be able to get some tracks." 1168 "Big if," Yvonne says, and steps out to immediately see tire tracks. "Son of a bitch. Could be a boat tow?" 1169 "Do you see a boat tow?" I ask, and immediately realize I just proved her point. It's possible they towed the one boat they have out to a dry dock, just like Lance said. Regardless, we follow the tracks. The wheels appear too wide for a tow or a trailer, those tires are normally narrower. Not long after leaving the boathouse, something did a three point turn around, and travelled along the side of it. I see a consistent tire trail, so I rule a trailer out of the equation. I see the broken window from the outside and keep walking. Now on the backside, I see there is a service road. I'd bet it goes up to the main road. 1170 "It went to the main road," I say. 1171 "Check this out," Yvonne says, now leaning over a bush along the path. I walk over and she is pointing to a piece of fabric caught in the brush. Same color shirt Chase was wearing when he left. "Breadcrumbs?" 1172 "Get pictures from multiple angles, then we'll bag it," I say. She does just that, getting close ups, distance, angles in relation to the boathouse and the road, and one last picture holding her chap stick to it for scale. I place it into a baggy as footsteps start coming from the other side of the boathouse. 1173 "Ladies," we hear, and both turn to Sheriff Knight. He must have parked toward the top of the hill. The last person I want to see us doing this right now. Mighty suspicious he knows we're here. 1174 "Sheriff," Yvonne says, already assigning herself the role of diplomat. I couldn't do it. 1175 "I hope that door was already open," Sheriff says. 1176 "It was," I lie, and Yvonne doesn't blink. I love my wing woman. "Lance gave us free reign. Told us if it's unlocked, we had his permission." 1177 "Property line ends two hundred meters that way," he says, pointing in the direction we walked from. "This ain't his property to give you that permission." 1178 "Who owns it? We'll go talk to him," I say. 1179 "Some New Yorker who uses it as a vacation home. See that trail? Goes up to a house that would cost a good million in New York," he says. I rather like my downtown townhouse. The mortgage I pay there would buy me a five bedroom out in the sticks. "I'll find you the number." 1180 "He just leaves it unlocked?" I ask. 1181 "Greatest myth about living in the country is that we leave our doors unlocked. We don't, but the city folks who come here in the summer seem to believe that," he says. "What you two doing out here?" 1182 "No disrespect, but I'm doing my job," I say. 1183 "Fill me in," he says. How do I play this, so he doesn't suspect I suspect him? 1184 "Lance has Chase on video leaving at night, and he's not on film coming back," I say. 1185 "Maybe he went to get his car," Sheriff says. 1186 "His car wasn't ready until the next morning. Chase received a call from Mort on the ninth, and shortly later sent his wife a text saying his car would be ready on the morning of the tenth. Mort tells us he came and got his car, but I can punch holes in his story like wet toilet paper. He's not getting his car by walking at eight in the evening with a fake leg. He also texted his wife saying he was getting rides by a Deputy named Lionel. One of your boys?" 1187 "He is." 1188 "I'd love to talk to him," I say. 1189 "He's on duty, but I can get him out here," he says, and pulls the radio off his hip to make the call. Rather convenient that the Sheriff neglects to tell me his own Deputy was Ubering my missing person. "He'll be here in twenty." 1190 With the Sheriff babysitting us, we hold off on following the tracks while we wait for Deputy Lionel to arrive. To keep him from looking at our progress, I recommend he walk us back to the Lodge, and have Lionel meet us there. We'll have to come back in there with flashlights later. I spread out the binder on the table in the foyer, taking the pictures and documents out, but I'm careful to not pull out the picture Chase took into the boathouse. I move the vase of white lilies out of the way, placing it on the mantel of the fireplace. 1191 "What do you have so far?" Sheriff asks. He sinks into a leather armchair, placing his cane against the armrest. Is there a way to withhold information, without looking incompetent and justify his belief in female law enforcement officers? 1192 "Midge," Yvonne says to me. She just took a call from her ASAC and is now gesturing me over to the other side of the room. I excuse myself and join her near the large stone fireplace. "Chase's car turned up two hours ago." 1193 "Where?" 1194 "Abandoned in a parking garage in Philly. It got towed, which gets reported to the police who ran the plate. Techs are going though it right now. The preliminary I just got, is that someone tried wiping it clean, but forgot to clean the door handle to the driver's side. They rushed a print check, it's not Chase's." 1195 "Do it discrete, but have them run the print against our host. He should already be in the system," I say quietly. Anyone number of people could have touched that car, but we have to start somewhere. 1196 "Something wrong?" the Sheriff asks. 1197 "Chase's car was just found," I say. 1198 "Where?" 1199 "Philly," I reply, and return to my seat. "They're doing the usual workup on it. We'll probably get something else in a few hours. 1200 "For what we have right now..." I say, and scan over the documents, "...is Chase going missing under suspicious circumstances. He was investigating a missing person, who also disappeared in a similar fashion." 1201 "Ms. Grossman?" he asks, and I nod. 1202 "Lance told me Katie got stuck in town for a full month. You sure you don't remember her?" I ask. 1203 "It's over a decade ago," he says. 1204 "Answer the question please," I say. His forehead wrinkles in aggravation. He's not a man who is often challenged. 1205 "No, I don't remember her." 1206 "Would you mind letting us look at your logs? You guys file every report, right. Send them up to county I assume?" Yvonne asks, having returned from her phone call. 1207 "I don't know what good it'll do, but you can pick them up tomorrow." 1208 "We have a missing person, time is of the essence. We need them now," I say, and his forehead gets old again. 1209 "I'll have my secretary bring them over tonight then," he says, hardly masking his irritation. Small town Sheriff does not like being pushed around by outside jurisdictions. Certainly not two women. 1210 "Sheriff," a man says as he walks in. Deputy Lionel. Lionel Portman, seeing how he's clearly Lance's twin. Same imposing muscular structure, but different hairstyles. This man doesn't have a ponytail. "Ladies." 1211 "Special Agent," Yvonne corrects him. My ice queen is back. 1212 "What's this all about?" Lionel asks. 1213 "You drove Mr. Kramner around when he was here?" I ask. 1214 "I did." 1215 "Where did you take him?" 1216 "To the Lodge the first day. Didn't talk much. Second day I drove him to town, he did some interviews. Stephanie and her mother at the coffee place. He did a lot of walking on his own, impressive, considering. Showing that girl's photo around town. He seemed frustrated he wasn't making progress. Drove him back on the, ninth, I want to say." 1217 "Did you pick him up the next morning so he could get his car?" I ask. 1218 "Come to think of it, no. He never called, but I swung by my uncles, Mort, found out he picked it up," Lionel explains. 1219 "Did you guys talk about anything else?" Yvonne asks. 1220 "We talked about guns. Busted his nuts a little because he's carrying a .22," he replies. 1221 "Did he happen to mention the make and model?" I ask. Back to round robin question peppering. He's much better at composure than Mort is. 1222 "Glock. Glock44," he says. That's the gun Jenn said he took, so that edge is squaring off. 1223 "Anything else?" I ask. 1224 "Short drive...wait, we did. He asked me about that detective who came by, when the car was reported stolen," he says. 1225 "What was the name of the detective?" I ask. I know the answer, but first rule. 1226 "Blanchard, I want to say," he replies, but didn't pause to think. He's rehearsed this conversation. Him suddenly remembering didn't sound genuine either. 1227 "Do you remember Katie?" 1228 "Who?" he asks, but in a manner suggesting I just took him off script. He was ready to answer for Chase, not Katie. 1229 "Katie Grossman, or Rodgers. You remember her? The girl who stole the car." 1230 "I don't," he says. 1231 "You don't remember a girl staying at the lodge for a month? The lodge operated by your family?" I ask. 1232 "I barely come here as it is. You'd better off asking my brother." 1233 "I'm asking you," I say firmly. 1234 "Anyone want a beverage?" a woman asks from the entrance of the room. We all turn, and see an older woman standing with her hands politely folded. 1235 "Not now mom," Lionel says. 1236 "Lionel, when did you get in?" she asks. 1237 "Mom, we're working," he snaps, barely keeping it down. That was one step removed from a child yelling up the basement stairs. "Go help Lance with something." 1238 "I haven't seen your father all day..." 1239 "...dad's dead mom," Lionel says. His mother seems to snap into a brief moment of lucidity, and quietly leaves. "That's why I don't come here often. I don't remember the last time she actually got our names right." 1240 "In her defense, you're twins," Yvonne says. 1241 "Lance is in a fucking wheelchair," he says harshly. He looks at his feet for a moment, then tilts his head upright again. 1242 "Anyway, I don't remember Katie. Lance came here to take care of mom. We literally rock paper scissored to see who'd have to turn in their badge. I remember Lance being pissed about mom letting her stay for nothing, but that's all I remember." 1243 "Does anyone want something to drink?" She's back, already having forgotten she asked us. 1244 "Sure mom, water is fine," Lionel says into his palms. 1245 "Okay. I'll have Lionel bring it in." 1246 "How the fuck does Lance deal with that. It's painful, I couldn't do it," Lionel says. That's real emotion. That woman isn't really his mother anymore, and he doesn't like to be reminded. 1247 She forgot she would ask someone else to bring them in and comes back with four glasses of water. I politely thank her and take a sip, and Yvonne places her glass on a side table. While she was handing them off, she sees the documents, and notices the picture of Katie. 1248 "What a sweet girl she was," she says, and I look toward her. "I'm Morgan." 1249 "Katie?" I ask, and she slowly nods. 1250 "We'd sit here, some nights, and talk for hours. The lilies were her idea, and I've kept them fresh ever since," she says, pointing to the vase I moved onto the mantel. "Poor girl had to deal with me likely asking the same question a thousand times because I didn't realize she answered it already," she says with a heartwarming smile. I smile a little myself. "Do you know why she hasn't called? She promised she would." 1251 "That's one of the things I'm trying to figure out," I say. 1252 "Tell her to call me when you find her," she requests. I say I will before she departs again. You'd think her not remembering this conversation in a minute would make that lie easier, but it doesn't. 1253 Yvonne and I continue to pepper them with questions, and they hold their own. Being police officers gives them an edge, even being small town cops. Chase's car was being fixed, so the Sheriff had Lionel drive him around. My guess is that Lionel was given this assignment to keep an eye on Chase, so they knew what he knew. I think Chase found out something he shouldn't have. I think Chase found the car, but they moved it before we could also find it. 1254 Lionel talks with us for over an hour before the Sheriff's secretary arrives. She brought with her two weeks of patrol reports. Citizen A made call, officer responded, results, follow up, closure. Mostly innocuous reports about noise, teenagers blaring music down main street, and dogs shitting on the sidewalk but the owner leaving the steaming turd for a victim to step in. 1255 Around midnight on the tenth, the Sheriff was called because teenagers were heard jumping off Callie's Cliff in violation of posted signage. The person who made the call, Rochelle Anderson, who lives just down the lake from it, heard splashing. She described it as the biggest she'd ever heard. She called back later, because one of those kids even stole her son's bike. The Sheriff sent a deputy Randall, who didn't see anything, and then reported his lack of findings. The 'adolescents' were already gone when he arrived. He noted teenagers because he knew they drove there. Tire tracks for two vehicles were found. 1256 "What's Callie's Cliff exactly?" I ask the Sheriff. Lance told me to check it out only a few hours ago. 1257 "You should check it out when you get a chance, pretty interesting," Lionel says, the Sheriff tilting his eyes toward him in a manner suggesting he wasn't please with that recommendation. 1258 "A rock face, some thirty, maybe forty feet above the lake. Halfway around the lake from the lodge if you travel north. Not much to see there," he replies. 1259 "Why is called Callie's Cliff?" I ask. 1260 "There isn't an actual name for it, it's a 'known as' kind of thing. Some years ago, a girl named Callie Young died there." 1261 "How many years?" I ask. 1262 "Let's see, I was seventeen when she died, and I'm fifty-six now," he says. 1263 "Call it forty," I say, and he agrees. "Kids like to jump off it?" 1264 "Not often, but it happens. Truth and dare games, things like that. Like I said, not much is there that would interest you," he says. I want to go solely because you don't think I should. 1265 "Take us there." 1266 -- Callie's Cliff is as advertised. Heights do not agree with me, so looking over the ledge is giving me vertigo. The land near it takes a sharp change in elevation when compared to the rest of the lake, so much so, when you walk up to it, you're walking on nearly flat ground. 1267 Yvonne is examining the tracks, but the gravelly surface and hard rocks make it impossible to determine similarities with the ones we already found. It really could just be that kids were fooling around. However, the biggest splash she ever heard has my attention. 1268 I whistle off the edge and listen for the echo. I clap to hear it again. Sound does travel here. I need to talk to Rochelle Anderson next. I walk back toward Yvonne, and notice I'm fighting the hill some. It rolls down toward the cliff. I need to get down there. 1269 "Is there a way directly down? Besides the obvious?" I ask. 1270 "Why?" Sheriff asks. 1271 "I'd like to see what's down there," I say bluntly. He's in a pickle, and I can see him stammering even though his mouth isn't moving. Lionel came along for the ride and is now leaning against the hood of his car. I don't know why I think this, but he looks like he's holding back a smile. 1272 "Yeah, there is. Rochelle has the closest house with her own dock. She's just down the hill from here," he says. 1273 "Yvonne," I say, and she looks over at me. "What sports did you play in college?" 1274 Yvonne played volleyball all four years as an undergrad. In summer, she was on the dive team. "You shitting me?" she asks. 1275 "How deep is the water?" I ask. 1276 "Never taken a stick to measure, but maybe thirty," he says. I look at Yvonne, who sighs. 1277 "Better you than me," I say. 1278 "Fuck," Yvonne says, and pulls off her slip-on shoes. 1279 "What's she doing?" 1280 "Finding out what's down there," I say. Yvonne is now removing her jewelry, and places them in her shoes. Her phone goes in next. She then removes her shirt, folds it neatly, and places it on the hood of our car. You can tell whether a woman is a mother just by the way she folds laundry. Yvonne debates on the pants but does slide them off her legs. Hello exposed female thighs. I need to look away before I'm wetter than she's about to be. 1281 "Did I fail to mention a girl fucking died here once?" he asks. His composure is cracking. Lionel's smile breaks through. Why the hell is he smiling? 1282 "She wasn't a collegiate diver," I say, and Yvonne walks to the ledge to get a sense of her surroundings. It's almost sheer, so not much of a kick-off is needed. Yvonne walks back ten feet and runs. 1283 "She's actually going to..." is all the Sheriff says before she jumps. "Holy shit." 1284 Yvonne doesn't even scream. Her form is so perfect I barely even hear her splash. 1285 "Is she insane?" the Sheriff asks. We walk to the cliff and look down. I see the ripples of her landing, but I don't see her. "She okay?" 1286 "She's fine," I say. I wait a full thirty seconds, and I can see the Sheriff getting anxious. Choices, choices. Call it in and get a salvage team to find her body, but what else would they find down there? A full minute passes. Yvonne has bragged that she can hold breath for over three minutes, so I'm not worried yet. Greg must love that lung capacity. 1287 Yvonne surfaces, and treads water. 1288 "Come on in, it's great," she says with her teeth chattering. 1289 "All you sweetie," I say. 1290 "These kid's games are getting crazy," Yvonne says. 1291 "How's that?" 1292 "Would you push your car off a cliff if someone double dog dared you?" 1293 -- Wednesday -- April 15, 2020: Five Days Gone 1294 This morning I learned how hard it is for a car to be pulled out of the water. It's too deep and too far away from shore for a tow, so they need to improvise. A crew is hastily put together with elements from the Erie station Coast Guard, an FBI dive team, and a contracted salvage company who specializes in recovering sunken ships. The Chief of the Coast Guard unit is swinging his dick at the FBI team leader, and the salvage crew is waiting for someone to tell them to do something. 1295 It's now six in the morning, and I haven't slept. A crowd of people from town slowly begin to trickle in. Word got around that an FBI Agent was looking for someone, and now more people show up. Nothing better to do than stand behind the line the Sheriff has set up to keep onlookers back and to be the local face for the population to answer questions. 1296 Part 12 Yvonne gets frustrated with the men and reminds everyone who the agent in charge is, which is herself. The salvage crew has the best plan, so she delegates the operational leadership to the civilian, and orders the others to give them the resources. This doesn't go over well with the FBI leader or the Chief, but they grumble and do as told. 1298 The plan is fairly simple: balloons. Bring uninflated big ass balloons underwater, fill them up, and the car floats to the top. The Coast Guard ship tugs it to shore, and we tow it to land. It takes several hours, but we get the car to shore just before noon. It is without a doubt, a 1964 Buick Skylark. I still haven't slept. Yvonne tells the leftover FBI guys to make a coffee run. Bring the women coffee. I love watching her go full bitch. 1299 A CSI team was on standby for when the car got to shore and gets to work as soon as the salvage equipment is removed. Pictures. So many pictures. I keep my distance and let them work. One of them is trying to pry the trunk open while others work the rest of the car. Items are pulled from the car, but one gives me pause. 1300 "There's a leg in here," says a technician. "Prosthetic." 1301 "Got it," a technician says, and pulls the trunk up. It slams back down, so he pulls it back up and props it open. "The hell?" he says, leaning down to look closer. 1302 I walk over, look in the trunk, and laugh. The only thing in the trunk is a half cut rope. Son of a bitch Chase. Where are you? 1303 -- Friday -- April 10, 2020: The Day Of 1304 -Chase Kramner- 1305 The only thing worse than getting knocked out by a chokehold, is not getting knocked out when you're trapped in the trunk of a car careening off a cliff into a lake. My body feels like a gang just wailed on me with baseball bats. I somehow managed to not hit my head, but everything else was steamrolled. 1306 My ears make me believe I'm in a washing machine. The water streaming through the less sealed parts of the car sounds like it's flowing in pipes all around me. I still feel like I'm falling, and then the pressure starts to feel like a migraine. I rotate my jaw to pop my ears, but it doesn't help. 1307 Water is starting to fill up the trunk, and I know I have minutes before I'm completely submerged. I need to free my hands, but I panic trying to pull my wrist through to no avail. Do I have anything to cut rope? Nothing comes to mind, and even if I had it, I likely couldn't reach it. I thrash about while merely pulling again, until something jabs me leg through my pocket. What the hell was that? I roll to my side, extending my hands around my front the furthest I can go, trying to get to my pocket. It felt like metal, or something hard. 1308 I need whatever it is. I press my shoulders against the floor and lift my waist until my crotch is against the top of the trunk. My fingertips curl around my belt loop, and I twist so my right pocket is more accessible. I flatten out my body and try again, managing to fish out the item. It's my hotel room key. Thank you, Lance, and your desire to keep a certain level of charm. 1309 I intentionally drop the key to the ground and grab the best I can muster. The trunk feels a quarter full, and I roll to my belly and face first into a puddle. I hold my breath and get to work sawing at the rope. After thirty seconds I stop for air, and resume for another thirty seconds. When I surface after the third round, I can't get high enough for air and get a lung full of water. 1310 Rolling to my shoulder, I cough it out, gasping for air, and stay at my shoulder. The trunk is so low I essentially wedge myself between the top and bottom. I have to keep my neck twisted unnaturally to stay above the water. My thumb traces the saw line, and I feel like it's over halfway, so I give it a good tug in opposite directions. The rope frays apart but stays in one piece. That's all I needed. The gap is big enough, and my hands are free. 1311 The back of the rear seats are not flush with the trunk. There is a lip I'd have to crawl over, and I know this car doesn't have a trunk release. I have little space to adjust my right leg to align with the back of the seat, and a narrow path to kick through. 1312 I contort myself into position and deliver the first kick. The back isn't firm, so it absorbs my foot. I also do not I have the space to put all my strength into it. I remove my prosthetic to help with space, and kick again. It worked on the rope, so why not a seat? I start frantically cutting at it with the key, as the trunk is nearly underwater. I stab it into the back of the seat again and again until it punctures the fabric. I reach over and pull out all the cushion, leaving only the frame. With that removed, I can focus more energy straight to the frame of the seat. I can feel it doing damage. 1313 "Come on," I say between strikes. The back seat begins to push over. This time I hold my breath, put my hands to the back of the trunk, and push against it. The seat folds over and collides with the front seats. Something is blocking it from going all the way down, likely the saxophone case. It's narrow, but it's enough. 1314 I try to go in face down, but the water is already too high. I go face up, and start clawing out. My chest is caught, but my hands get through. My head is out of the trunk and in the back. I reach out for the headrest of both seats and pull. I'm stuck. I press my left hand against the top, pull with my right hand, and push up with my foot. It gives the fraction of an inch I need to get my chest through. Grabbing both headrests again, I pull myself out of the trunk. 1315 Phase one complete, now what? 1316 Water is waist high in the car. They didn't open the windows. Lucky break. That bought me minutes. Maybe they don't roll anymore, I don't care. Only thing left to do is get out. 1317 Opening a door will be insanely heavy, so I have one choice; break a window. I have one shot at this. Fuck it up, and I die. No pressure. The only problem is, what can I use? I've exhausted the usefulness of the key. Nothing in my immediate reach can do it. The saxophone case is too bulky to swing at it, and the case is plastic. The water reaches my chest and I'm almost ready to give up. 1318 No one will ever find me. They'll make me disappear. Just like Katie. Maybe we're about to be neighbors. My son will grow up thinking I abandoned him. I don't even know if he has a sister or brother yet. I feel in my pockets, but they took my phone and my gun. I want to call Jenn. Tell her I tried. Tell her that my hobby is the reason our next baby doesn't know me. 1319 No. 1320 I will not die in the trunk of a car! Think, smartass! You need a tool, but you don't have one. Something hard you can break a window with. Preferably narrow that can be swung in a tight space. Something like a pipe or...I have a fake leg made of titanium. 1321 I damn near swim to the trunk and reach inside. I can barely see an inch in front of me. My hand fishes around the trunk until I feel it and pull it into the car with me. I quickly separate the pylon from the ankle joint and socket. When I finish, I have a head and a half of car left. 1322 "Do it, do it, do it, do it," I chant, and then finally smash the window in one swing. The water pours in like a broken dam, and I wait. It passes my neck and then my chin. I tilt my head for that last second of air, take the biggest breath I can, and dive. The car is full, and the torrent is gone. The lake has claimed the car. It will not claim me. 1323 I maneuver out of the car, look up, and kick off the seal of the window. I pump my arms and kick my leg like a fish with a broken fin. I climb, but the darkness is so profound, I don't know if I'm even going up. Don't panic, panic kills people. Trust you're going the right way. I break the surface of the lake and breathe air. 1324 "Oh fuck, oh shit, goddamn," I cough out, and look around. I see a cliff and crane my neck upwards. "Motherfuckers." 1325 I swim to the rocks, just to have something to hold onto. I find a piece of cliff to grab on to and catch up on my breathing. I follow the cliff, hoping at one point the elevation comes back down, giving me a place to beach. My body is held up as I drag myself along the rocks. I lose my grip, falling under again, but I manage to resecure a handhold. Time is abstract, and I don't know how long it takes me to arrive to shore. 1326 I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm tired, I'm battered and beaten, but I'm alive. Every fiber of my body strains as I pull myself further from the water. I finally arrive on dry land and lay on my back on the rocky shore. My chest rises and falls, and I start laughing like a maniac. I'm just happy to be alive. 1327 Still, I don't have the luxury to relish in it. I need to get to civilization. I force myself to get up and find something to use as a crutch. My leg is still down there. I've gotten talented at standing with one leg for extended periods of time, but I've never tried to get anywhere of consequential distance. I scour the ground for anything, but only find rocks and shrubs. I see trees nearby and start hobbling. 1328 There is nothing to support myself with and I occasionally fall to my knee and hands to regather my strength. I shake it off and keep going. Just a little further. At the trees I search around for a fallen branch, but I'm coming up short. At least I have something to help keep myself upright. It feels like an hour before I found something suitable to my needs. A thin stick as tall as me. I test its flexibility, and it is sturdy. Good enough. 1329 With that problem solved, I look around for unnatural light. In the distance I see what could be a porch, and start pole vaulting my way toward it. I stab the stick into the ground and swing. Rinse repeat until I can see a house. I'm approaching from the side, and start to swing my way to the front, when I hear a conversation. 1330 "...it's likely just teenagers again ma'am," a man says. 1331 "Could be Randall, but I'm telling you, that splash was not normal," a woman says. I poke my head around the side, and flinch back. It's a deputy for the town. I remember him briefly, but we never spoke for long. 1332 "It echoes here. Could just sound loud, but I'll check it out," he says. The woman thanks him and closes her door. I press my back to the wall when he comes close to crossing into my field of vision. The last person I remember was the Sheriff before I was in the car. I don't trust any of these people. I can't go to them. Anyone here would just call the Sheriff because they wouldn't know any better. 1333 The deputy starts his car and drives away, and I lower myself down to hide. The lights of his vehicle shine right over me, but he doesn't catch me. He pulls away and starts down the road. 1334 Who can I go to, who wouldn't immediately call the police? Stephanie. How the hell do I get there from here? I don't even know where I am right now. I stand up, and my arm hits an object which makes some noise, but thankfully not enough. I hold my breath, but the woman doesn't return. It was a bike. I'll give it back later. 1335 Balance is a bitch with one leg, but it's possible. Sure as hell beats walking. I stay close to the shoulder of the road. If a police car comes by, I can quickly duck into the vegetation for concealment. I ride down to the first intersection, and see I was on Lac. This is the stretch that goes down to the lodge. I'm not far from main street. I think I can find my way from here. 1336 When Stephanie drove me, I tried to remember the path. I counted streetlights and remembered turns. Dawn is nearing, but the lights are still on. How many lights and what direction? Three lights, left? I'm so tired, I don't trust my own memory. I hear an engine and steer the bike into the brush. It passes, and I resume. Three lights, left. Just do it. 1337 Four lights, right. Seven lights, left. There it is, the red neon sign I remember. I actually found it. It took me over an hour, because the town is waking up and I kept diving into cover. I ride the bike over the gravel drive and look for Stephanie's trailer. What number was she? I don't remember. I bothered to take note of everything else, but not that? 1338 I hear music playing from one of the trailers. Eighties pop music. A morning routine of playing music while getting ready for work. I use the bike as my crutch, drop it at the stairs, and climb up using the banister. I hammer on the door and wait. Please be right. I see the curtain move on the window, and see Stephanie peering out. A chain slides, a deadbolt snaps, and Stephanie opens the door. 1339 Stephanie is at a loss for words for how I look. She knows something bad just happened, but she doesn't even ask about it before letting me inside. 1340 -- Wednesday -- April 15, 2020: Five Days Gone 1341 ~Midge Appletree~ 1342 Where the fuck is Chase? He's still simultaneously the luckiest and unluckiest man in the world. The only reason he's alive is that he's calm under pressure. You can throw the man in the trunk of a car and push him off a cliff, but he'll find a way out. The questions are, where did he go, and why hasn't he revealed himself yet? I trust he has a good reason; I just don't know what it is. 1343 The CSI team had the Buick shipped off for analysis in a controlled environment. While it was here, we received a base line inventory including music records, a few digital cameras, and digital tape. Also found was a saxophone with Katie's name on it. Not to mention Chase's leg. 1344 Sheriff Knight is pacing like an expecting father in the waiting room in classic movies. He'd be chain smoking if that was his thing. He seems more surprised by what wasn't in the trunk. Yvonne and I telepathically tell each other to watch him. 1345 Another team is combing the cliffside for clues, but I want a team over at that boathouse. I will bet my pension that's where the car was stored all these years. Chase found it and got himself a one-way ticket to the bottom of the Whisper Lake. 1346 Yvonne is ordering the teams around, and while I watch her work, I look over at the small crowd forming behind the police tape. The Deputies are keeping them back and answering questions with simple answers. Small town, nothing better to do on a Wednesday afternoon. 1347 In the crowd I see Stephanie. When our eyes meet, she tilts her head, as if summoning me over. I excuse myself from Yvonne and make my way to her. The Deputy lifts the tape for me, and Stephanie is already walking toward the road. A line of cars are present, a mixture of police, FBI, and civilian. Mostly civilian. She leans against her own and looks both ways. 1348 "Where's Chase? I know you know," I say quietly. This girl's caution is rubbing off on me, and I even peer over my shoulder looking for a local badge. 1349 "Whisker, half hour," she says, and steps into her car. 1350 "What?" I ask and knock on her window. 1351 "Whisker, half hour" she repeats. Without another word she starts her car and drives off. I sigh while shaking my head. Can this girl please stop with the cryptic clues and just tell me something directly? Am I ever going to get some sleep today? 1352 My phone rings, and I pull it from my pocket. Will is calling. I press answer and place it to my ear. 1353 "You guys find him?" Will asks. 1354 "Not quite. I found where he wasn't, if that makes any sense," I say. "Anything on your side?" 1355 "I got Katie's Grossman's stepfather Tom Hollinger under a microscope right now. You ever have a bunch of circumstantial shit that looks really bad, but nothing to tie it all into an arrest warrant that would hold water?" 1356 "I'm listening." 1357 "I was reading Chase's notes when he interviewed him recently. Tom mentioned Katie also stole filming equipment when Chase spoke to him. Here's the thing, his original claim from ten years back, makes no mention of filming equipment. He never reported that to the police. One pawn broker remembered Tom, because he exploded when they didn't have that equipment. He omits filming equipment he later attempted to recover, has a stepdaughter who according to her friends was scared shitless of him, who runs away after becoming pregnant." 1358 "I don't like what that adds up to either," I say. It all sounds like Tom was molesting his stepdaughter. And the sick fuck filmed it. "For what it's worth, we may have just found that filming equipment, tapes and all. We just found the Buick." 1359 "No shit. Where?" 1360 "Bottom of a lake out here. Techs told me it couldn't have been there longer than a week. Curve ball was we also found Chase's leg in the car, but no Chase. I think he's alive but is lying low for some reason. Locals here, are, let's just say shady." 1361 "That's not all I got. A few years before Katie ran away, Tom shot someone in self-defense during a home invasion. A guy named Michael Travers. Registered sex offender, who according to Tom was attacking Katie when he opened fired. Two shots to the chest. He was cleared, but I dove into that case, and it's unusual to say the least." 1362 "How's that?" 1363 "Tom was already home, claiming he was taking a nap when Katie screaming woke him up. His wife came home, and almost immediately was when the shooting started. She didn't recall screaming or anything like that, just the gun shots. No signs of forced entry, and they matched a print on the front doorknob to Michael Travers. The guy walked in through the front door." 1364 "Jesus," I say, already forming a nauseating theory. "Rape kit?" 1365 "One was done," Will says, flipping pages. "Guy wore a condom, had lube on hand, but penetrative vaginal intercourse was identified. Strangely prepared rapist." 1366 "You think Tom was pimping her?" 1367 "Wife in her statement said, she came home early." 1368 "Came home to something she wasn't supposed to find out, Tom had to improvise," I say, and he agrees with me. "Anything else on Katie herself?" 1369 "Actually yes," he says, and I hear him turning pages again to find what he wanted to say. "Katie might have had a reason to go to Whisper, outside of a car repair." 1370 "Really?" 1371 "Katie Grossman has a sister. A half-sister to be accurate. Same dad, different moms. The sister is the reason Katie's parents are divorced if you catch my meaning. As far as I've looked, she still lives there, and lived there ten years ago." 1372 "What's her name?" I ask, preparing to write it down. 1373 "Stephanie Pierce," William says. I put the pen down and tell him to keep it up out there. We need to see if those tapes survived. But first, I need to talk to Stephanie again. 1374 -- I'm well past twenty-four hours without sleep, but I power through and let Yvonne know I'm going to the Careless Whisker. Yvonne tells me they should have the warrant for the boathouse within a few hours. I also discretely tell her to let me know if the local law starts leaving to come find me. 1375 Parking is available across the street, and I walk across to the opposite sidewalk. A few pedestrians are around, shopping local, and I push my way through the door of the café. Stephanie is behind the counter, facing away, and working on a drink for a customer in line. The song playing inside changes as I step in, and Michael Jackson's Billie Jean starts. I get it Yvonne. You walk into a place and that track starts, it feels like it started playing solely because you walked in. 1376 Stephanie turns toward the customer with the coffee, and nearly fumbles it when she sees me. She recovers, successfully placing it on the counter for the customer. 1377 "I'm here. We need to talk," I say. 1378 "Yes, we do," a voice says from the bakery in the back. Evie had stepped out and was now hanging her apron. "Steph, flip the sign, we're closed." The one customer leaves, and Stephanie follows him to the door. She turns the deadbolt, flips the sign over, and looks both ways before dropping the blinds. "Have a seat detective." 1379 "Thank you," I say, and find the nearest table. Evie drags a chair with her from another table and sits on the opposite side. Stephanie takes the middle between us. 1380 Part 13 "Where's Chase?" I ask. 1382 "Right here," I hear. Chase enters from the back, vaulting across the floor on a crutch. The man has always been clean shaven, but five days of pretending to be dead makes him look the part. His facial hair doesn't grow well. His face shows a level of exhaustion I've seen on him once, and that was when he lost his leg. Still, those eyes display an unholy level of focus. "Surprise." 1383 "Your wife is going to fucking kill you," I say. 1384 "I'll worry about that when I get home. Take it you got my message?" he asks. 1385 "We found the boathouse and the car," I say. 1386 "You happen to get my leg?" he asks. 1387 "It's in evidence," I say, and he chuckles. 1388 "Typical." 1389 "What the fuck is going on Chase? You got us and the FBI scrambling to find you. Your pregnant wife is terrified. I get it you probably trust the cops here as much as I do, but why not just call us?" I ask. There were easier ways to do this. 1390 "Because I knew someone would come looking for me. My dad basically guaranteed a task force was going to happen. You guys show up, start scaring the shit out of them, and maybe they start making some mistakes. When I'm not in that trunk, that's when they start panicking," Chase says. The Sheriff was biting his nails to the bone. 1391 "Then what?" I ask incredulously. 1392 "They start checking to see if the other bodies haven't been moved," he says with a small grin. One body was already not where it should have been. Chase surviving and being in hiding will make them paranoid. What did he find under their noses? 1393 "They lead us right to them," I say. It kind of works in an insane Chase Kramner kind of way. "Who is 'they'?" 1394 "For sure, Sheriff Knight and Mort Junior. They're the only two I remember seeing right before I was choked out and woke up in a trunk. Junior then drove my car to Philly," he says. 1395 "You think they killed Katie?" I ask, and he nods. 1396 "He all but said he did, and not just her. A fifteen-year-old brunette girl named Callie Young fell off the cliff forty years ago and died. I think she was dead before she fell, and the cliff helped cover it up. No water in the lungs, premortem bruising, and she didn't hit the rocks. Newspaper clippings I found took the statements of two of her friends who were present when she fell. An innocent accident. Two cousins named Arthur and Mort Knight. 1397 "I dug through missing person reports going back four decades. In this county, I found at least seven others who match a general description. That's just the ones I found. Caucasian female, ages fifteen to twenty, brunettes. Sound familiar?" 1398 "They got a type, and have been at it for decades," I say. 1399 "I can't believe I was married to that sicko," Evie says, then looks at her young, Caucasian, brunette daughter. "That man barely touched me. I always had a feeling he wasn't interested in that way. Didn't think he'd have his sights set on something else." 1400 "Why do Callie that way, but hide the others?" I ask. 1401 "Callie was the first. First is often sloppy. They hadn't established a method yet. They panicked and threw her off a cliff. They stopped for a while, but when you get away with murder, you tend to see if you can do it again. A few years later, he starts doing it with a badge." 1402 "Who else knows you're alive besides this table?" I ask. 1403 "He'll be here in a minute," Chase says. As if on cue, a soft knock comes from the door. Evie nods to Stephanie, who leaves her chair to check the door. She peels open the blinds and allows Deputy Lionel into the building. 1404 "Are you kidding me? You got one hell of a poker face," I say to Lionel. People typically don't survive an interview with me. Stephanie locks the door and returns to the table. Lionel remains standing and crosses his arms while leaning against the counter. "Someone fill me in." 1405 "I know it sounds like the Sheriff had me drive around Chase to keeps tabs on him. Not quite. He put me on Chase so I couldn't keep tabs on the Sheriff. The Sheriff and I have never seen eye to eye. Neither did my brother." 1406 "You were already suspicious of him?" I ask. 1407 "I wouldn't say suspicious, but I knew something wasn't right about the man," Lionel says. "Spent years trying to figure it out. Caught me on more than one occasion looking into him." It's why the Sheriff didn't tell us about Lionel on his own. He doesn't trust Lionel. 1408 "Lionel found me three days ago. Went looking for a stolen bike, because, what else does a small-town deputy do?" Chase says, and I turn to him. "Him and Lance did the research for me, seeing how I couldn't do it myself." 1409 "Lance is involved too?" I ask. Then I remember the first person to mention Callie's Cliff was Lance. They've been nudging Yvonne and me in that direction from the start. 1410 "My brother's solid," Lionel says, and I wave it along. This situation is already bizarre enough. "That thing you asked me to look for, found it. Junior made a mistake." 1411 "Did he?" Chase asks. 1412 "He took a toll road in your car with the fast pass and made a call within five minutes of each other. I can pin him and your car in the same ballpark in Philly," Lionel says, making Chase smile. 1413 "Midge, you're up," Chase says, and I turn to him. 1414 "Come again?" I ask. Don't act like I already know your plan. 1415 -- Chase has pretended to be dead for the last five days, but in all actuality, was hiding in a trailer park until the right time. His family is politically affluent, so he knew the moment Jenn lost track of him, he'd be reported missing, and the response would be expedited because of his father. He let the Sheriff and his accomplices remain under the assumption of victory, just to see how they react when the carpet is pulled out from under them. Only Chase is this batshit crazy. 1416 I tell Yvonne through text to keep eyes on the Sheriff discreetly. In case he gets worried that Chase found where the bodies are buried. My job for now is to squeeze something out of Mort Junior. If this duo has a weak link, it's him. 1417 Lionel follows me to the pothole where he hides his car in the brush. I pull my car to the shoulder and call Good Knight Towing and Repair. When one of the Morts answers, I disguise my voice, trying my best to sound like Wendy. In thirty minutes, I see the tow truck coming. 1418 Mort Junior recognizes me, and starts trying to make a u-turn, but Lionel zooms out from the side and blocks him. He's boxed. I watch his hands grip the steering wheel, and he only looks forward as Lionel leaves the squad car with his hand hovering over the gun. Lionel climbs the step to become face to face with the window. 1419 "Kill it," Lionel says, swiping the blade of his hand across his neck, and steps off. The engine stops, and Junior is instructed to step down from the cab. 1420 "What's this about?" Junior asks, but he's trembling. 1421 "Get out," Lionel says, and Junior sighs and steps down to the road. "You got a good reason why you drove Mr. Kramner's car to Philly?" 1422 "What?" Junior asks. "I don't know what you're talking about." 1423 "You missed a spot," I say. "You wiped the car down fairly good. Forgot the door handle though. We got your prints on the car. That's not including the car took a toll road, and your cell is pinging on a tower in Philly." His prints haven't been checked yet, but he doesn't need to know. 1424 "I'm not tracking," Junior attempts to lie. Fucking amateur. 1425 "Mort, we know, cut the shit," Lionel says. 1426 "You ever figure his car has a print because I fixed his car?" Junior asks. 1427 "Doesn't explain the cell phone tower and the toll road," Lionel says, and steps toward him. Junior steps back, hitting the door of the cab. "Maybe you didn't know why you were told to do it, but you knew enough." 1428 "Knew what?" Junior asks. 1429 "Okay, Mort, play that game. Instead of a deal, you get a murder charge and a one-way trip to pound in the ass prison," Lionel says. Smart, leaving out attempted murder in case he doesn't know Chase is alive. I might have slipped that out. 1430 "I was only told to drive his car to Philly..." Junior finally admits. 1431 "...did you ever question why that was? Or do you already know what happened to Mr. Kramner?" Lionel interjects. 1432 "He just said drive the car," Junior says. 1433 "Who is he?" I ask. Mort shakes his head like he's more scared of this person than us. Honestly, he probably is. "Let's try a different question. Did the Sheriff tell you to do it?" He nods, slowly. 1434 "Okay Mort. I believe you," Lionel says, and steps away from him. "She'll take more convincing than me however." 1435 Mort's eyes quickly slide to me, then back to Lionel. Time for the man-hating, angry lesbian, bad cop. 1436 "Over here fuck face," I say, and his eyes come back. "Who owns the boathouse where the Buick Skylark was hidden?" 1437 "My mom," Junior says, and it's easy to see he's finally telling the truth. He buckled to pressure fast. "They've been divorced for years but my mom still leases the house out. She let me keep the boat house seeing how I stayed in town. The name for the property owner is Janet Wells." 1438 "So you put the car there?" I ask, and he nods. "Katie wasn't the only victim, was she?" He shakes his head. "How many?" 1439 "I don't know..." 1440 "...how fucking many?" Lionel asks, and he flinches. He doesn't know how many? I don't think he killed anyone of them. His job was to only clean up the mess. 1441 "I don't know. My dad only had me drive the car away in the event that's how they ended up in Whisper." 1442 "Your dad?" Lionel asks, and Mort looks like he didn't mean to say that. 1443 "How many times have you driven a car away?" I ask. 1444 "At least five times," he says, and I snap. What if Wendy got stuck in this town? How many families think their daughters just ran away? How many young lives went out without a Whisper? How many are just a picture on Morts wall...son of a bitch. It was right there the whole time. Those pictures are trophies. 1445 "And you didn't say a goddamn thing to anyone!" I shout. I grab his shirt and push him against his truck. If he really wanted to, he could toss me away because I'm a buck twenty soaking wet, but he's too scared to try. 1446 "Who the fuck do I tell? The Sheriff?" Junior asks, and I pause. Legitimate question if I'm being honest. "You're a cop, tell me how hard it is to get a conviction without a body. You think I didn't want to tell someone?" 1447 "Did he also tell you to put Mr. Kramner in the trunk of Katie's car and push it off a cliff?" I ask, and his nod is frantic. 1448 "I didn't want to. I never wanted to do any of it. Katie was a nice girl. Other people always treated me like shit, but Katie was always sweet. It's why I kept the car. I couldn't get rid of her that way. There was never anyone to tell." 1449 "Tell us now. Where are the bodies?" I ask. 1450 "I don't know, I've never been involved in that part," Junior says, and I believe him. He'd tell us if he knew. 1451 "You gotta give us something. I can't promise you immunity, but it'll go a long way," I say, and Junior tries to think as I let his shirt go. He sits on the step of the truck and starts crying. Hard, heavy tears that shake his body to the core. Junior never wanted to be a part of anything like this. He was partly protecting his father and scared of the Sheriff. I almost forget that Lionel is his cousin considering how hard he's coming at him. 1452 "My dad and the Sheriff go hunting together," he gasps between tears. "Sometimes, they come back covered in blood, but without a catch to show for it." 1453 "Where do they hunt?" Lionel asks. 1454 "Sheriff owns some land west of the lake, they do it there. Small hunting cabin, I've been there a few times. Give me a map and I'll point it out," Junior says. Lionel goes to the car to get a map, while I keep my eyes on Junior. "I wanted to tell someone." 1455 "I know, but your hesitancy is the reason people are dead," I say, and he hiccups. "This is your chance to make it right." 1456 -- Wednesday -- April 15, 2020: First Day Found 1457 -Chase Kramner- 1458 Mort Junior buckled like a belt under interrogation to Lionel and Midge. I've seen her in a room with a suspect. More than once I've watched her make hardened killers cry like little bitches. She's ruthless in those situations and knows just where to put the knife in and twist. 1459 Mort and Arthur Knight go hunting often. I have a feeling if I cross those dates with missing person reports I'll find some overlapping timelines. The Sheriff had me thrown off a cliff because he couldn't know if I told anyone about the car, or if I took a picture and it uploaded to a cloud because that just what phones do these days. Probably figured he gets rid of the car and me in one move. One detail was straining my brain to explain; if Mort Junior drove the car so often, why didn't he get rid of her car as well? The Sheriff seemed genuinely surprised the car was there, as if he truly had no idea. He's a talented liar, but that seemed to truly shock him. 1460 Midge debriefs me, and says Mort Junior, while complicit, is not a killer. I believe Junior kept the car because he liked Katie too much to part with her belongings. He likely came to the boathouse to hear her voice again. 1461 With directions from Lionel, I make my crippled self deep into the woods again. By dusk, I've arrived at the shack with nothing but a crutch. A small one room hunting shed to stage equipment and process the kills. I have a feeling they were hunting a different kind of game altogether. The foliage around the shack is thick evergreen, hiding it from outside eyes. The door is locked, but nothing a few shoulder slams couldn't handle. It's old, and cracks after three hard slams, even lacking proper leverage with two legs. 1462 The shack is full of skinning equipment. Blades, saws, other instruments. Hooks to hang the carcass. A small table is toward the back, with shelves that hold hunting equipment, nets for blinds, decoys, feed, and doe urine. 1463 Stephanie got me a burner phone, and I call the Sheriff from the phone number I had written down and wait while it rings. 1464 "Who's this?" Art asks after five rings. I hear chatter all around him, so he's likely still around people he'd rather not have this conversation in earshot of. 1465 "Stephanie's boyfriend, Hunter," I say, and he pauses before laughing a little. 1466 "Hunter, you are full of surprises," Art says. "Mort was right, should have just put a bullet in you." 1467 "You should have," I say, and sit on a chair at the table. 1468 "Why don't you come on out? Everyone is really worried over here," he says. "Why haven't you. Didn't know who to call?" 1469 "I still need to find Katie Grossman," I say, and I can almost hear him smile over the phone. "Love your shack by the way. Real quiet out here. I barely had enough bars to make this call." Art's breathing is all I can hear for over ten full seconds. "Let's play hot or cold, you know that game, right?" 1470 "I'm familiar." 1471 "Katie Grossman. Am I hot, or cold?" I say, and his breathing becomes louder. Like he's grinding his teeth. "I'm lava, aren't I?" 1472 "You can dig all the fuck you want, you won't find anything," he says. 1473 "Thanks for telling me to dig," I say, and look at the shovel in the corner. "There's even a shovel for me already." I hang up without another word. 1474 If this guy has trophies, he'd hide them here. I get to work flipping this place upside down. Knocking on the walls for hollow spots. Loose floorboards. Under and over everything. I search the outside but work my way back inside. After a solid hour, the sun is gone, and I'm stuck looking with a flashlight. Art could be here any second, but I push on with the search. 1475 Just when I think he's careful not to keep anything from his victims, I look up at the triangle ceiling above me. There's a space to store addition items on a platform created by a piece of plywood. A thin rope is conveniently dangling just at arm's reach. I grip the rope and pull. Something scrapes against the surface, until I see a small box, no bigger than a jewelry chest. Using the chair, I balance on one foot, and pull it down. 1476 Keychains. Cosmetic compacts. Jewelry, like rings, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. All labeled with tags tied around them with string. I count eighteen separate items with names on them and a number. Paula, 11. Lucy, 13. Tammy, 7. Rachel, 3. Allison, 14. I also see Cassie, 1. Her item to represent her place in the box is an old bottle cap from a soft drink. I find it. Katie, 12. Her item, is an expended bullet. Before I pick it up, I put on a glove and slowly lift it to eyelevel. .38 caliber if I had to guess. 1477 Katie shot the Sheriff. She fought back, but it likely wasn't enough considering her absence in the world, and her name in the box. 1478 A twig snaps from outside and turn off the flashlight. 1479 "I know you're there, get on out," Art says from outside. It took some time to shake his tail, but he got here just like I wanted. 1480 "How'd you do it?" I ask. 1481 "I liked to pull them over," Sheriff says. "Mort and I have a healthy competition. See who can get the best numbers. I was hoping one day to get Stephanie out here. Our tradition is hunting season, we hunt. Some years you leave the season without using a tag. Some years the doe just walk right into your scope." 1482 "Callie Young?" I ask. 1483 "She couldn't hold her soda," he says, and I think of the bottle that went with that bottle cap. They drugged it. "With what we did to her, amazing anyone bought the cliff story. Fucking eighties, you know?" 1484 "What's the plan Art? Come here, kill me the right way, and bury me next to the rest? What makes you think someone doesn't know I'm here?" 1485 "Thought crossed my mind," Art says, and steps into the doorway. "Figured the rug muncher already knows. Cute little dyke, little old for me, but I have made exceptions from time to time. I gotta know what that's like. Maybe I'd even be her first poke." 1486 "I've had worse," Midge says from behind him with her gun drawn. He knew he walked into a trap, and he still came. "Thanks for the confessional soliloquy." 1487 "I knew I was done, matter of when, not if. The moment that trunk opened, I knew it was over," Art says, and displays his surrender with his hands up. "Figured, why not leave a parting gift." 1488 "What do you mean?" I ask. His phone rings in his pocket. I order him to give it me, slowly. He pulls it out and I answer the call from Mort Senior. 1489 "Got the one you always wanted," Senior says, and remember what Art just said, and drop the phone. He always wanted to take Stephanie hunting. 1490 "Is anyone watching Stephanie?" I ask, and I see Midge's silhouette freeze, and slowly shake her head. "Where is she?" 1491 "Where's who?" Art asks. 1492 "Stephanie, where is she?" I ask. 1493 "Ask Mort," he says, and without warning, turns around quickly toward Midge and grasps for his gun. Midge tags him with a controlled pair that echoes in the woods for over five seconds. Damn she's a good shot because that could have easily hit me. His body completes the rotation he started, and he collapses to his side. 1494 "Shit," I say, and check his pulse. Art is there by a thread. I roll him to his back, and he looks up at me with a shit eating grin. He laughs in my face until he dies. 1495 -- Midge frantically called Yvonne to tell her someone needed to go Stephanie's trailer. We wait with Art's body until someone else can get out here and start collection. Yvonne calls back within ten minutes and says Stephanie's trailer was empty, but there were signs of a struggle. The door was kicked in, and the living room looked like two people were tossing each other around it. No Stephanie though. 1496 An FBI team takes an hour to find the shack, Midge saying she'll stay behind while I go to help with finding Stephanie. Yvonne was with the group, so I grab a ride with her back to town. 1497 "You haven't changed a bit," Yvonne says as she carefully drives the car not suited for this terrain along the trail. "Gave your wife a pretty good scare." 1498 Part 14 "When the Sheriff throws me in a trunk, I have limited options," I say, and she simply nods. She still thinks my entire ploy was crazy, but she doesn't say it. 1500 "What the hell happened back there?" she asks. 1501 "Suicide by cop," I say. "Turned to Midge fast, transparently going for a gun. Found his trophies in the shack. I think he killed about eighteen girls." 1502 "Jesus," she says, turning slightly around a tree. She slows down to get through a narrow patch, branches scraping the sides. Hope she got insurance for the rental. 1503 "I don't think they killed together though," I say, and turns to me, then back to the road. "Mort and Art were competing. I think the pictures in the auto shop weren't advertisements. They're his trophies." 1504 "Midge figured the same thing already. Mort was winning," she says. How does something like this happen? How do so many girls just vanish and all I managed to find were seven? 1505 "Where would he take her?" Yvonne asks. "We've already searched her trailer. We're ransacking his house for clues. The repair shop is being torn apart as we speak. He's just gone." 1506 "I don't know," I say in defeat. "Take me to the auto shop." 1507 "Why?" 1508 "Just do it." 1509 "Okay," she says. 1510 Yvonne pulls onto pavement several minutes later, and guns it for downtown. The town is buzzing with activity. Dozens of people are in the street, watching the show. She idles her way through town, people staring at us as we pull through and stop in front of the auto shop. The FBI has cordoned off the area, and forensic teams are already hard at work. I shut the door and see Lionel outside as part of the security detail. 1511 "Where's Junior?" I ask. 1512 "I had him in lock up, but one of the other Deputies was ordered by Art to let him out before the shit hit the fan. He's gone," he says. "I'm the only one they're letting help now, if that makes you feel better. FBI has the Deputies, vetting them to see if they were accomplices." 1513 "Keep it tight out here. Town needs to see at least one of their lawmen doing good," I say and walk past him with Yvonne into the building. 1514 "What are you looking for?" Yvonne asks. She knows me well enough to understand I have a process. Same as her. 1515 "Trophies," I say. The wall had already been torn down, and was now in a box, each picture in an individual baggy. "Have you guys pulled all the receipts yet?" 1516 "Over here. His record keeping is trash though. He never charged for the girls as far as I can see. Part of why it never came back on him," a computer analyst says from the store's computer. He likely stopped keeping the records of victims after Katie's car was reported stolen. After a detective showed up, they became more careful. "Pretty easy to crack into, not encrypted or anything." 1517 "What are we doing?" Yvonne asks. 1518 "We're IDing the victims," I say. 1519 "We don't have a name to go off of," she says. 1520 "No, but some of the pictures you have..." I start to say, and she notices it immediately. 1521 "...license plates," she says, and is now on my page. Some of the pictures were taken from the front of the car. Others have the sides of the car in frame. We segregate the ones where the license plates are visible and start there. Yvonne jumps on an FBI computer to help me. 1522 "That plate was registered to Matthew Webster," she says and looks him up. "He had a daughter named Michelle who died in July, six years ago. Homicide cold case, found in the trunk of the same car." 1523 I go the next one with a visible plate. 1524 "Registered to Jasmine Fotopoulos. Her daughter Athena was found...dead in the trunk of the same car. July. Homicide cold case." 1525 Their hunting season is July. They only kill in or around that month. Most killers don't maintain that level of discipline for that long. 1526 "Put out an APB for her car, now," I say, and Yvonne gets the wheels moving on that request. Some of the girls were never reported missing, others were put in their trunks and left to be found. Mort Junior likely drove them. That's why I only found seven, because Mort's kills were not missing persons. All except Katie. 1527 "Alright you sick fuck, where do you do the dirty work?" I ask myself aloud. 1528 I stare at the pictures, begging for them to tell me more. What is your ritual? Hunting. They've always called it hunting. Where do you hunt? Art had a shack, so where's yours? You'd need it to be quiet. Isolated. You'd need to own the land if possible. Did they use the same shack? 1529 I shuffle the photo's again, begging one of them to speak to me. Not a word. Groaning, I slam my fist on the counter, and resist the urge to start throwing objects. I look around the room and see the picture of Senior with his deer. It's not the same shack. Different construction and the foliage is different. He does it somewhere else. 1530 "Does he own any land?" I ask the analyst still in the room with me. He shrugs, not sure on how to answer my question. I exit the shop and find Yvonne on a radio pushing out the APB. "Did he own land?" Yvonne holds up a finger, asking for a second to hear the confirmation, and then turns to me when given the confirmation. 1531 "Say it again," she says. 1532 "Does he own land?" I ask. 1533 "Besides this place and his home, no," Yvonne says. 1534 "Did he ever?" I ask. Yvonne thinks for a moment, and then makes a call to ask. I anxiously wait as she rights something down, and then hangs up. 1535 "About five years he sold fifty acres in Ohio," she says. "Houses are being built on it right now." 1536 I know where he is. I was standing there just a few months ago. Senior threw the revolver in the artificial pond ten years ago. On his own land. While this revelation hits me, Midge managed to get away from the shack and exits an FBI SUV to join us. 1537 "Anything?" Midge asks. 1538 "I need a car," I say, and Yvonne says she'll do me one better. She can get us a chopper in twenty minutes. 1539 -- Thursday -- April 16, 2020: Second Day Found 1540 ~Midge Appletree~ 1541 I haven't been on a helicopter since I was in the Coast Guard. Hated it then too. The wash of the wings gives me an instant migraine, and every slight shift in direction makes me feel like I'm on a mechanical bull. The fact I haven't slept in nearly two days is not helping. It's just after midnight now. 1542 The HRT unit on standby picked us up fast, and a second chopper is minutes ahead of us. Local police have already helped by blocking access around the property. He's had enough time to make the drive, so we're looking for the car. 1543 "You okay?" Chase asks through the headset. The earmuffs help a little, but I probably look nauseous. 1544 "Not a fan of flying this way," I explain. Chase has asked for a gun a few times, but no one wants to be held responsible if he uses one. He's unarmed right now. He keeps touching where his holster would be. Odd habit of making sure it's still there. Not to mention, his leg is still in evidence. 1545 "Stay back and let us do it. You've done enough," I say, and Chase exhales before nodding in acceptance that right now he's a passive bystander. That kind of shit eats Chase alive. 1546 "Three minutes," Yvonne says from the front with the pilot. I give her a thumbs up and check my own weapon. "Locals say they found her car. Found Junior's too. We're landing away from the property, in case the choppers spook him, and he kills her in panic." 1547 We touch down in a grassy field, and immediately jump into a car to get there. Lights off. The driver is using night vision goggles to steer us. Damn, these guys are intense. They pull into a street where several houses are in various stages of construction, ranging from foundation poured, frames up, to fully built. Stephanie's car is parked in the driveway, next to the tow truck, of a house that looks fully built. 1548 The HRT members immediately search the car, and Stephanie is not in the trunk. Did we get here in time? Yvonne and I split up, her going with the team to the front, while I go with the team to the back. 1549 "Possibly two hostiles, one hostage," the team leader reiterates over the radio. "Two men, one female. Female is the hostage." The team confirms they understand, and in we go. 1550 The house was finished on the outside, but work still needs to be done inside. Some walls haven't even been put up yet. It's a gutted shell. Electrical wiring is being put in, and piping for plumbing is starting to take shape. When I walk in, I can see clear across the house to Yvonne entering on the other side. 1551 "First floor clear," team leader says. "Schematics say this place has a basement, stairwell toward the center. Two, hold the floor, one, on me." 1552 Yvonne's team hangs tight, and I get to the stairs. The door isn't even up yet, and we look down toward the lower level. There is a glow from light down there. I swear I hear whispering. Like someone talking to himself. 1553 "Go!" 1554 We storm the stairs and quickly turn into the basement. It's the same half built aesthetic. Only with an electrical lantern illuminating a grisly scene. Stephanie is alive, tied by her wrists with her toes just touching the ground. She's trying to scream through a gag. Mort Senior is on the floor in a puddle of blood. A team member checks him and shake his head to confirm he's dead, while another member gets Stephanie down. I hear the erratic mumbling coming from somewhere and follow the voice. 1555 Mort Junior is pacing with a gun in his hand. He's talking to himself like a madman. 1556 "Junior," I say, and he stops talking and moving. "Put it down." 1557 "I shot him," he says, sniffing loudly between tearful breaths. "You said make it right." 1558 "That's not what I meant, and you know it," I say. The team comes to me, but I make them back off. "Put the gun down, we'll talk this out." 1559 "He made me drive the bodies back to their homes. All those girls, who never hurt anyone. He said he'd kill my mother if I didn't," he says, and starts slapping his forehead with the unarmed hand. One of the members raises his rifle, but I catch the barrel with my left hand and shove it back down. This isn't Waco, motherfucker. 1560 "That's what we call special circumstances. You have a tough road ahead, but it's manageable. You need to put the gun down though," I plead. I don't want to kill two people in a single night. 1561 "I could have saved Katie that night. She got away from the Sheriff and came running for help. She found me, and I could have helped her. But I got scared. I knew what they did to them, so I spared her the suffering," Junior cries out. 1562 "You killed her yourself, didn't you?" I ask. 1563 "It was mercy. Fast, painless. I couldn't let it happen to her the same way it happened to others. Then I kept her close," he says, and then slowly starts to turn toward me. I tense up, just waiting for him to be stupid. "Katie's buried under the boathouse. Please, take care of her. She liked white lilies." 1564 "We will. We'll take her home. Give her a funeral. Her family and friends will finally be able to have some resolution," I say. Please, just drop the fucking gun. 1565 Instead, before anyone can react, he swallows the barrel and does it himself. 1566 "Fuck," I say, looking away, then seeing the other dead body. I put my head against a wall and clinch my eyes shut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" 1567 I take the time to regather my composure and turn back to him. That's when I notice he did it with Chase's gun. 1568 -- Friday -- July 10, 2009: First Day Free 1569 ~Katie Grossman/Rodgers~ 1570 "My name is Katie Grossman. I'm a pregnant sixteen-year-old runaway. I'm a cliché. You know what, I'm okay with that. I am who I am, and I won't apologize. All my friends think I'm weird because I like eighties pop music. In truth, I was just born in the wrong decade," I say into the camera. I put it on the desk in the hotel room I can't afford. I can't afford it because I threw $3000 dollars out of a car today. I'm pregnant, sixteen, and broke. I'm a super cliché. 1571 The owner is the nicest woman in the world who offered to let me stay for basically free. Some people like that still exist. I'm sure that asshole at the repair shop put that hole there himself. 1572 "I bet you're wondering why I ran away. I'll tell you. Just know, it isn't a happy story. Why would it be? I'm running away after all. I can still turn that into a happy ending though. That's something I can still control. Kind of, you know what I'm getting at," I say, making myself giggle. I feel like the camera is another person. Someone who will listen to me. 1573 "You know how when you're a kid, and you do things, but you don't know those things are wrong, because no one ever told you it was wrong? Sometimes, things are done to you, and you don't know they're wrong. You just think they're normal. So, when I was eleven, my mom remarried, and I didn't know my stepfather putting his fingers into me was wrong." 1574 I cry some and cut the camera off. I need the moment so I can continue. The choppy cuts are going to look weird later, but it's either that or it's three hours of me crying and two minutes of me talking. 1575 "I also didn't know, him putting his penis in my mouth was wrong. Or him licking my, you know, was wrong. Or all the other, escalating shit was wrong. I just thought it was normal. Do this for me, and you get a new toy. As I got older, the gifts only got better. Shower with me, and you get a new computer. The first time he, put it in, I got a phone. I was twelve. That's normal, right? Fuck your stepdad and you get a phone? I'm sure everyone's stepdad put a camera next to the bed." 1576 I need another minute, but that turns into an hour of me crying in the corner. Fuck I'm pathetic. Just call your dad. Your real dad. Get out of here and get help. Not yet. I need to meet her first. I'm going to find Stephanie tomorrow. My sister. She probably doesn't even know I exist. 1577 "Not to mention, sharing is caring, right? Why would he keep me all to himself? I like meeting new people after all." 1578 I need another hour. I put the camera back on the charger and look at the lake. It's so beautiful here. Maybe I just stay here and raise her with this view. She'll love it. I have no idea if it's a boy or a girl, but I'm leaning more on girl. I think every girl wants a girl. 1579 "I knew it was wrong when he killed someone to keep our little secret. Mom came home early, and I was promised a car when I got my drivers permit. All I had to do was keep that secret. And I did. Until now. 1580 "Now, I know it was wrong. I think I always knew, deep down," I say, and take a deep breath to focus on this part. "My name is Katie Grossman, and my stepfather raped me. One day, the right people will find this tape. Some will say I'm a spoiled brat who is only saying this because he cut off my allowance. Which he did, but only because I refused to do it any longer. You should have seen his face when I told him the evidence was inside of me. It's his baby. But it will never be, his, baby. It's mine." 1581 I trashed the computer because he gave it to me. The phone I smashed with a hammer because he gave it to me. My brand-new car I drove through a red light because he gave it to me. So why keep a baby he gave to me? Because he doesn't want me to keep it. Because getting rid of it, is what he wants. I will never do what that man wants. Never again. 1582 "Believe me or don't, I know the truth. I have the evidence in my belly, and a box full of tapes to prove it. My mother didn't protect me. She likes nice things too. Whenever something didn't feel right, about our relationship, she got a new necklace. See the pattern? I took that necklace by the way, sorry mom. Not my fault your husband likes to rape little girls." 1583 "What now?" I ask, as if I'm talking to a living, breathing person. "Now, I don't know. I really don't. I know what I'm not going to do if that helps. I'm not going to let anything happen to this baby. To my baby. See mom, that's what you're supposed to do. You don't rationalize, and turn a blind eye, and not question why I walked funny some days. You protect your fucking children. That's what a mother is supposed to do." 1584 Another hour passes, and I don't collect myself before my door knocks. I try my best to hide my tears and answer the door. The owner, Ms. Morgan is here. 1585 "Just seeing how you're settling in sweetheart," she says, and notices my fake smile, and real tears. "What's the matter dear?" 1586 "Hormones," I say, hoping that's enough to explain it away. 1587 "If you need anything, just let me know. A meal. A drink. An ear," she says, and my smile becomes real. 1588 "I will, thank you," I say, and softly shut the door behind me. I fan my hands toward my face and sit in front of the camera again. I placed the lilies behind it to calm me down if I start cracking again. 1589 "If, somehow, he finds me, I'll be ready," I say, and hold up his gun to the camera. "I've been practicing. I can draw this thing like Annie Fucking Oakley. If he comes here, shit's going to be the goddamn O.K. Corral." 1590 "If he does, and I lose, or something else happens. Angela, Leland, thanks guys. Thanks for getting me this far. I love you two. Thanks for everything." 1591 -- Thursday -- April 16, 2020: Second Day Found 1592 -Chase Kramner- 1593 Stephanie is alive and is taken to the hospital. Mort Junior killed his father not long after they arrived, so her injuries are relatively minor. He finally cracked. The pressure became too much, and he killed his father, and then himself. Junior killed Katie to spare her the worst death of being killed by Art, but that ate away at him until it was too much. 1594 We take a chopper back to Whisper, and land at around sunrise. Midge is literally falling asleep during the flight, and Yvonne volunteers to get her to the lodge for some well earned sleep. That woman's been at it for over two days. I need the sleep too, but instead, I join the team digging at the boat house. 1595 The bottom was cut open, and then they started. Within the hour, we got a body. She's nothing but bones. All I see is the beautiful brunette girl who died too soon. 1596 I step away from the grave and make a call. It's early, but this man never sleeps. 1597 "Hello?" Derek asks, and I smile from just hearing his voice. 1598 "It's me sir," I say. 1599 "Chase?" he asks, and I confirm. "I heard they found you. Are you okay?" 1600 "I'm not dead, that's a good start," I say. "I found her." 1601 "Katie Grossman?" he asks. 1602 "They're moving her body right now. They need to do some tests, but I know it's her," I say. "Your folder just got a little lighter." 1603 "You sound tired. Get some sleep and call your wife. Call her first. She's calling me too much," he says, and I say I'll do that. I hang up and call Jenn. 1604 "Hello?" she asks. I smile even wider. The burner phone means she doesn't get my name on ID. 1605 "You didn't think I was dead, did you?" I ask. 1606 "You fucking asshole," Jenn says, but I can almost hear her laugh the tears out. "I'm going to kick you in the nuts when you get home." 1607 "Good thing I got two into you before you do it," I say, and she laughs. 1608 "Girl," she says, and I smile. "We're having a girl." 1609 "Krista Amanda it is," I say, and she agrees. "It's nuts here. I've never seen so much FBI. Don't get mad, but I'm going to get some sleep, and start heading back tomorrow." 1610 "You better," she says. "I love you, you fucking idiot." 1611 "I love you too. I'll see you tomorrow." 1612 -- Tuesday - April 21, 2020: One Week Home 1613 ~Midge Appletree~ 1614 Thomas Hollinger was put into handcuffs yesterday. The statute of limitations for rape in Ohio is twenty-five years. The FBI salvaged enough from the tapes for prosecutors to go after him with everything. They couldn't prove the baby Katie was carrying was fathered by him, but the tapes were enough. Will called me after they made the arrest, telling me Katie's mother sat frigid on the couch the entire time he was struggling with the officers sent to arrest him. Like she knew the entire time, but now it was impossible to suspend her disbelief. 1615 Part 15 Yvonne stayed behind the finish up the case in Whisper. Mort Senior had twenty-one brunettes on his wall. Taken with Art's number's, they killed nearly forty girls between the two of them. It still dumbfounds me how long that can happen with no one batting an eyelash. Lionel is the acting Sheriff, considering he's the only one anyone trusts anymore, but he told me he's leaving the force. He's going to join his brother taking care of their mother. 1617 After the entire ordeal, I took time to reassess where I am in life as Chase and I drove back and continued to think as we went down his dirt road. His son Nathan rushed out the door, and Chase, who I knew full well was beaten and bruised, still picked up his son and threw him into the air. Where does that energy come from? Why don't I have it? Is that just a permanent part of post-partum depression? 1618 The family invited me inside, and I accepted. I didn't mind catching up with Jenn. She straight up punched Chase in the chest when he got home, but her aggravation was short lived. That bedroom was likely insane after I left. Toward the end of my hour there, Jenn walked with me back to my car. I started to light a cigarette but remembered she's pregnant so put it away. 1619 "Chase is like my baby daddy. Superdad," I said, leaning against my car door. "Is supermom a thing?" 1620 "Chase says it doesn't matter how tired he is, he'll always find the energy he needs," she said. Chase is tired, but that doesn't matter. "When I know he's near that limit, I'll take over for a bit. Even he needs a break." 1621 Does Shane ever need a break? Shane has designated days, but if he ever wants to plan something with Shawn, he can. He can come over anytime he wants to see him, and he does. All the time. Shane had more time with him than me after he was born because I had post-partum. Shane is an incredible father. 1622 He's an incredible parenting partner with me because he doesn't step on my toes or try to outdo me. He double checks my schedule to make sure everything is good. If he wants to get Shawn a gift, he runs it through me, so we don't accidentally start a battle of best parent. We also ensure it's not always just one of us. Sometimes we take him somewhere together. We probably look like a normal straight couple when we do. 1623 I've always blamed my shortcomings with being a mother on post-partum. Am I just making excuses? Did I regret it at the last second, and now I'm just stuck with a kid I thought I wanted? Having Shane to compare myself to just makes it worse. 1624 All those problems seem so small now. Last week was the first time I discharged my weapon in the line of duty. Clean kill, absolutely justified, and the person who took the bullet was a serial killer, but none of that made it easier to sleep. After I finally got sleep and woke up without the knees of a toddler crushing my spine, it felt like something was missing. I miss Shawn all the time. I never thought I'd miss the way he says good morning. 1625 This morning, I do it differently. I'm on leave because of the shooting, but otherwise my routine is back to normal. Shawn sneaks into our room, minutes before my alarm, and dives onto my side of the bed. Only this time, mommy has set up a decoy. I stuffed pillows under the comforter, and bum rush him from the bathroom when he notices his landing was too soft. 1626 "Ambush!" I shout. He jumps, but laughs, as I tackle him from behind. "Surrender!" 1627 "Stop!" he laughs from the tickles and raspberries. 1628 "Mommy was ready today!" I say. We laugh, and we snuggle in bed. 1629 The only thing about Shawn that I regret, is that I thought I regretted him. 1630 Shane came over this morning to take Shawn to a museum. A military museum with planes, tanks, and other cool things that Shawn has taken an interest in. I want the day to relax, without Shawn, but those goddamn eyes when he asks if I will come with. 1631 "Please mommy?" 1632 That's all it takes. 1633 -- Monday - July 20, 2020 1634 -Chase Kramner- 1635 I watched Katie Grossman receive a proper burial two weeks after I got home. Her mother stood back and waited for her friends to grieve before she approached the grave herself. I can tell Ruth Hollinger blamed herself entirely for Katie's death. In truth, she deserves to blame herself, but I'm not the kind of person to force that grief on another human being. Not during a moment like this. 1636 Leland and Angela thanked me for finding her, regardless of what that meant. Her father was there as well, along with Stephanie and Evie who made the drive. That was awkward to watch that group interact with each other. The other woman, the other kid, the cheating husband, and the mother who let it happen under her watch. Ruth left first, but Roger stayed to talk with Evie and Stephanie. 1637 Evie lost a daughter. In the month Katie spent in Whisper, Evie had become more her mother than Ruth. Katie and Stephanie became real sisters. I watched them hug each other in a circle over Katie's grave dressed in white lilies, before I leave them in peace. 1638 I return home and get back to work. Jenn and I decided to make it official. 1639 Jenn drops the box of business cards on my desk while I'm working on the newest case. I open the box and pull out the first one. 1640 C & H Investigations. No one but us will know it stands for Coffee and a Handshake. That's the rate I gave Derek on the last case. Considering this is about to be my day job, I need to charge a little more in the future. 1641 Officially, I've been doing this since not long after I got back from Whisper. That case drew some eyes naturally, and when an old acquittance named Summer Pillsbury wrote an article about me regarding it, the calls came in. The volume I received told us we needed help. I got two openings available, one for an investigator, the other for a researcher. Lance Portman called about the researcher position, so that position has already been filled. Lionel decided Lance had taken care of their mother long enough, and it was his turn to carry that burden. He can do most of his job from home anyway. 1642 Filling the investigator job was harder. A lot of ex cops were interviewed, but I didn't get a feeling for any of them. Midge and Kaiser are years away from retiring, and they'd probably not want to work for me anyway. I was thinking about just settling on a candidate before Jenn told me one of her old friends was a reference for the next one. 1643 "Old friend?" I ask. 1644 "When I was in IA, I worked a case with Army CID and became pretty good friends with the investigator. A cop was a former soldier who was accused after he left the service, so we had cross over. Odette is a PI in Chicago and tells me a former detective is interested if you'll talk to her." 1645 So, I talk to her. 1646 Jo Zielinski wasn't sure what to make of a job interview in a ranch house at the end of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. Her face when Jenn lets her inside expresses her confusion. She's attractive but dressed plainly in a charcoal suit. Those eyes though. Deep emerald green, the exact same color as her earrings. She blinks and I still see her gaze. 1647 Jo wasn't a detective for a particularly long time. Only a few months before she resigned, for a reason she says she'd rather keep to herself. I'll respect that, but her reluctance is also concerning to me. She understands the concern. 1648 In the two hours we talk, I learn she's from Illinois and served in two different police departments, the latter one as patrol, then as detective. She only handled a few cases, mostly domestic abuse calls and a few minor trespassing disputes. Her experience lacks the significance of many of the people who have interviewed for this job. Somehow, she stands out more than the others. 1649 The trait that she has that none of the others seemed to possess, is humility. The ability to say she doesn't have all the answers. That she will make mistakes and has made them in the past. The others came in bragging about their cases, which Jo couldn't do because she hadn't had a large volume to brag about. To me this was a person who didn't just want a job. She wanted a purpose. 1650 After the credentials, I ask questions to know her on a more personal level. You can be the best detective in the world, but unless we're compatible, that doesn't matter. During the conversation, I conclude Jo is simply lost. She doesn't know what to do without a badge and took this interview on a whim. Jo Zielinski is hungry for this kind of work. 1651 Toward the end of the conversation, Jo looks like she thinks she wasted her time. To her surprise, I ask when she can start. Jo leaves, telling me she'll be able to move within a few weeks. I watch her dust cloud vanish in the wind, and then go back inside. 1652 "While you were talking, we got a call. Defense investigator request," she says, and hands me a notebook with a brief summary of the case. A criminal defense attorney is requesting I help with interviews on possible witnesses. I find the case in the media and read what I can for five minutes to get sped up. I'll likely find more information later, but right now, I'm interested. 1653 I call the lawyer, and he answers in two rings. 1654 "This is Chase Kramner from C & H investigations. I'm in." 1655 END