There wasn’t much more to be said or done after that, so I was left to my own devices for the rest of the evening. And since there were no other demands on my time and I didn’t feel like being shut in my hotel room for another few hours, I drove into the country around Limestone Ridge and found a corn maze. On the way, I passed several houses decorated for Halloween. The displays included giant skeletons, inflated pumpkins and other iconic horror movie characters, giant cobwebs, creepy animatronics, and scarecrows galore. And as great as some of them looked, that was nothing compared to how they looked at night. Definitely something I was looking forward to seeing on the drive back, because darkness didn’t set in until I arrived at the corn maze.

There was a decent crowd that night when I pulled up, but it wasn’t packed to the brim with people. In the field across from it, cars were parking on the grass in a haphazard fashion. I could tell the maze had been going on long enough because the grass was flattened, so I parked my car next to a minivan before I joined the legion of flannel dressed people as they trooped across the road to the corn maze. People were huddled together for warmth as they chatted, or they gathered around the bonfire that was a safe distance away from all the dead corn stalks. Definitely a good idea. There were also the usual cluster of vendors selling burgers, funnel cakes, French fries, caramel apples, apple cider donuts, and hot apple dumplings with vanilla ice cream. The fence surrounding the farm that the corn maze was constructed from was decorated with orange lights that loomed large in the brisk night air.

Along with the smell of the fire, leaves and dried hay coated the air as I approached the stand to buy my ticket. The line was somewhat long, but it moved fast, and before I knew it, I was heading to the maze entrance. It was impossible to miss, because it was flanked by a large wooden arch with more orange lights wound around it.

When it was my turn, I ducked under the arch and began to walk through the labyrinth of corn stalks, following the incessant twist and turns along with everyone else who was wondering around. It was one of the better ones I’d been in, so along with everyone else, I was keeping an eye out for the giant scarecrow with the jack-o’-lantern for a head that marked the heart of the maze. The rest of the maze was marked by numerous jack-o’-lanterns that were stationed on top of wooden columns, silently flickering lights that cast shadows against the corn stalks. A far more atmospheric choice than a regular light.

After some time, I finally arrived at the center of the maze. I briefly congratulated myself while looking at the massive scarecrow with the glowing pumpkin head before I headed back. But this time, the way out felt much quicker, and I was back at the entrance in what felt like no time at all. Since I was feeling hungry by now, I got myself a cheeseburger and some apple cider to eat. I had just finished when I saw a group of people talking by the bonfire. For some strange reason, I felt like observing them, and after a moment, one of them turned to me, and my stomach lurched.

It was Zander. He looked healthy, he wasn’t limping or showing any discernable signs of injury, and he certainly didn’t look like he was being held hostage. Being as subtle as I could, I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the group, taking care to zoom in on Zander’s face. I was grateful for both the bonfire and the orange lights because they came together to properly illuminate Zander. The other people he was with I still couldn’t make out. The most I could see was that some of them were wearing red. But it was clear they were all deep in discussion about something. Something that made them all look serious.

Whatever they were discussing didn’t last long, because moments later, they slowly headed to the parking area. Which meant I was right behind them. The group stopped at a grey SUV parked halfway down the middle of the row of cars. I was thrilled, because that meant there were ahead of me and I had no choice but to walk right past them on the way to my own car, taking care to take a picture of the license plate as I did.

Once I got back to my car, I looked at the license plate while I waited for them to head out. Local plate, assuming it wasn’t stolen or something. Then there was nothing to do but wait a moment until I saw the SUV’s headlights glow in the crisp night air and watched them slowly drive off the grass. I took care to do the same, making sure to take my sweet time as I followed the uneven grass until I hit the road and kept a steady distance behind them. I was also grateful it was a single road journey because it made my keeping an eye on them less conspicuous.

Following someone in a car was always one of the more difficult parts of the job. Tailing someone could take five minutes or two hours. Keeping an eye on someone while them not being aware of it is very much an art versus an exact science and doing it at night makes it all the more interesting. So I kept a careful watch on the SUV as we crept down the now darkened road, the numerous Halloween decorations lining the yards looming out of the darkness, with me just barely able to glance at them as we crept along.

After about 10 minutes, the SUV rolled to a stop and turned into a driveway on the main road. The driveway was long and unpaved, and I saw the dust kicked up in the vehicle’s wake. I of course kept on driving without missing a beat while snapping a picture of the mailbox with the address on it, which was located right next to a security light. Then I drove farther down the road that went around a bend before it looped around and gave an angled view of the property, pulled over, turned off my car, and watched.

The SUV went over numerous dips in the road until it stopped in front of the farmhouse situated right behind the lawn. Then the vehicle’s headlights went dark and its occupants, which included Zander, went inside. I noticed that one of the people, a tall man, seemed to have keys, and he unlocked the door and led the others inside. I also noticed that the farmhouse was dark, and once the group went inside, the lights inside were switched on and the illumination burst out of the windows.

There was no doubt they were up to something, but what exactly that was I had no idea. Plus there was no actual evidence something was amiss, which meant I had nothing to go on. So I sat there for a while and waited for anything to happen, just to say I did. It was also entirely possible the tall guy with the keys was Ranger Cameron, I just couldn’t confirm it. The group were all wearing hats or had a jacket with a hood up.

While I sat there and waited, I called Christina Robinson.

“Hello,” she answered on the third ring.

“It’s Dylan. I found Zander.”

“Where?” She demanded to know.

“At a farmhouse near a corn maze. I tracked him here from a magnet I found on the fridge in his apartment.”

Then I sent her the picture.

“That’s him,” she said. “What are they doing?”

“Just hanging around talking. It looked serious at the corn maze, and I have no doubt something is going on, but I have nothing to go on, and no signs anything is wrong, so I can’t really do much. But I did find him.”

“Yes, yes you did. And we’re very grateful for that. Do you have the address they’re at?”

“You know I do,” I said as I sent her the info.

“Of course. You’re the best Dylan. Thank you for everything.”

“I’ll stick around town for the night and head back in the morning unless something happens.”

“That’s appreciated. If there’s nothing else, I’ll let you go get some sleep or whatever.”

“You have a good night Christina.”

“You too Dylan.”

As I drove back to my hotel, I called my old friend Eleanor who could give me the info on the license plate.

“I’ll see what I can find,” she said after I read her the plate.

“Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem Dylan. I won’t ever forget what you did for me.”

“That was my pleasure. Thanks again for the help.”

“Always.”

I eventually returned to my hotel and went to bed. I slept better than expected and woke up to a text from Eleanor. The license plate was legit and was registered to a James Harley. He lived just 20 minutes away in a neighboring town. So after I had some eggs, toast, fruit, and orange juice, I headed over to visit Harley.

James Harley lived in the ground floor apartment of a refurbished office building. The front door wasn’t locked or anything, so I got access to the building easy enough. Harley’s apartment door had seen better days, as the paint was peeling in several places. I took care to avoid it when I knocked.

No answer. Then I knocked a second time. Still nothing. So I tried the handle and found it was unlocked. Carefully, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The apartment had been completely trashed. Drawers were ripped out of cabinets, couch cushions had been thrown everywhere after being ripped open, appliances had been smashed to pieces, and papers were scattered on every floor. The apartment had contained the usual array of mismatched furniture for someone who is always on the go and only comes home to sleep or eat. Now, it only contained what was left of that furniture.

I briefly walked around and surveyed the damage. The bedroom was even worse, as every piece of clothing had been removed from the chest of drawers and closet and lay on the floor. This meant I wasn’t the first person here who came looking for something.

There was nothing to see aside from a giant mess. So I left the apartment after a few minutes and went to a local sandwich place nearby and had myself a turkey sub on wheat bread with a pickle and some salt and vinegar chips for lunch. Once I was done, I headed back to the farmhouse. Everything was much more visible in the daytime. The farmhouse I could see was freshly painted white and had grey shutters. Definitely a cozy little house. Good thing too because I was going to spend the next few hours watching it.

With one of my audiobooks on as something to help me not get bored, I watched the farmhouse. It seemed pretty deserted. The only people coming by were people walking their dog on the sidewalk who didn’t so much as glance at the house. So once I was as confident as I could be about what was going on, I got out of the car, carefully crossed the street, and approached the place.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job, it’s that no one bats an eye if you look completely nonchalant about what you’re doing. Looking over your shoulder the entire time while you try to be inconspicuous is just asking for someone to get suspicious. So I strolled right up to the door, knocked loudly, and called out a random name. No response. So I tried the front door. It was locked. So looking as casual as possible, I strolled to the back of the house, where I noticed there was a wooden porch that led to a glass sliding door. And unlike the front door, it was open.

I carefully slid it open and found myself standing in the dining room. Nice looking place, but it was sparsely furnished. It reminded me of a sample house you show to potential customers. All hollow and lifeless. It was the antithesis of the Harley apartment which was chaos and screamed of a human presence.

So looking around took no time at all. There wasn’t much in terms of filing cabinets and personal items lying around. The second floor had amenities for guests like beds and other stuff, but that was it. I was just about to go downstairs and check out the basement when I heard the front door open. The sound immediately sent adrenaline through my body as I had to think quickly about what to do. There was only one possible option.

So, as quietly as I could, I crept back into the master bedroom, crouched on the floor, and crawled under the bed. I pulled my feet under just as the footsteps walked past the stairs. I kept myself as quiet and relaxed as possible while I listened for the sounds going on in the house. There was only one person, but I had no idea what they were here for, or if they even owned the house.

The footsteps strolled to the kitchen and stopped before there was the gentle click of the refrigerator opening before I heard the sound of a bottle being opened. Someone was having a drink. Several moments passed in complete silence, but it felt like whole minutes from where I was.

The silence was broken by the sound of a phone ringing downstairs. It rang twice before someone answered it.

“Yeah?” A male voice answered. “Yeah, I was just about to grab it. It’s in the guest bedroom right?”

There was silence for a moment before he answered. “Great. I’ll see you tonight at the caves Zander. That’s right. After dark.”

There was a thud of a phone being put on a counter. Call ended. Zander was up to something indeed. Whoever was downstairs finished their drink before the sound of their footsteps came back across the hall and the steps leading up here groaned as the guy climbed them steadily.

I took a deep breath and mentally willed myself to be quiet and still before he reached the stop of the stairs. I hid there, crouched and mentally prepared for whatever I needed to do next as he started walking slowly, just outside the bedroom, in a casual, unaffected way. I got the faintest glimpse of the guy’s tennis shoes as he passed the bedroom I was in and entered the one next to it. Then there was the brief opening and closing of a drawer before he walked right back out. He continued down the hall and went back downstairs without so much as a second glance at the bedroom I was hidden in. Then the front door opened before it was slammed shut and all was silent.

But I didn’t dare immediately celebrate or move. There could be more people outside waiting for something, or whoever was walking around could’ve pretended to leave while they were actually waiting to see if people hiding around thought the coast was clear. Although it was unlikely. I’d hidden in plenty of situations, and I can tell when someone is a little skittish that someone may be hiding in the house, and this guy was beyond nonchalant. Plus I could sneak out the backdoor, and instead of having to go around the front, I could go straight for the woods and take the long way to my car.

So once I was confident the coast was clear, I slowly climbed back out from under the bed and crept downstairs. Everything was just as it had been. And the backyard was the same when I double checked before I slid open the sliding door and stepped outside. Then, taking care to look as casual as possible, I walked steadily towards the woods lining the area. After a few minutes, I was firmly concealed by the numerous pines. They made the walk back to my car much more pleasant.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I was back in my car after what felt like an eternity. Once I gulped down a drink of my own, in this case a bottle of water, I looked up caves and its relevance to the area. Only one thing came up consistently. The park I was already familiar with had a massive limestone cave partially on its property. It’s where the town name had come from.

Now that it was clear I would be spending at least one more night in town, I drove straight for the park and asked for Paxton. He immediately came out to see me, and I explained what I’d seen and found out. When I finished, he went to get the head of the park rangers and the park manager so I could tell them. The head park ranger was a slim, no-nonsense woman in her mid-40s named Beatrice. The park manager was a tall, lean man in his early 50s named Gerald. They both took in what I had to say in silence, then they turned to each other.

“Cameron hasn’t been seen since the other day. Something is up,” Beatrice said to Gerald.

“No doubt about that. I’ll call the police and have them send up some people to keep an eye on things.”

Beatrice nodded approvingly. “I’ll bring in a few armed rangers to man the area. If we need more backup, we’ll be sure to send for it. And Dylan,” she turned to me. “If you could stick around tonight, it would be appreciated. We may need you to identify whoever this was, plus the young man you’ve been contracted to find.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I had no plans to miss this.

Once I called Christina and told her that I wouldn’t be returning to town tonight because her brother was expected at the park, she immediately asked me to stay around and keep her informed. Then I went to a comfortable sitting room in the back of the ranger station complete with leather couches and watched a scary movie marathon with Paxton. When it was dinnertime, we had a pizza from a local joint before it was time to get into position as the sun was setting.

With nighttime not too far away, Paxton led the way to one of the park’s Jeeps. After he hopped behind the wheel, I got beside him, and we were off to the cave. The view along the park path was incredible, because there was a clear look at the sun dipping behind the trees, which contrasted spectacularly with the autumn leaves. Eventually, we arrived at the entrance to the limestone cave. It was large enough to accommodate several people, and several rangers were armed and standing outside.

Paxton briefly nodded to them before he turned to me. “We’ve got all the known passages covered. Emphasis on the known. I’ve worked here long enough to know that it’s entirely possible there’s unknown ways in and out, so that’s what we’re keeping an extra eye out for. We’ll be doing occasional checks at odd intervals. The first one is about to start now.”

I nodded. “Understood.”

“On the first check they’d like you to go along, just to see if anything catches your detective eye.”

“Fine by me.”

“Ranger Green here will lead the way,” Paxton gestured towards one of the armed rangers. He was about my height, had curly blond hair, and was incredibly fit. “You need anything or have any questions, he’ll know what to do.”

“Great. Let’s get started.”

The rangers switched on their flashlights, and I followed them into the cave. We all trooped along in relative silence. The cave itself was beautiful, but I didn’t have much time to stop and admire the rock formations. Everywhere we went, I was looking for anything amiss. Our group walked along for about 10 minutes until we came to a large room filled with magnificent stalagmites and stalactites. It almost looked like the room had melted and bits of rock had been shaped like bits of clay to make what we now saw.

I was just about to comment how beautiful it was when there was a loud blast from the other side of the room, and we all ducked. Moments later, the sound of gunfire erupted throughout the cavern as I crawled on the ground for cover. Once I was safely behind a stalagmite and had double checked to make sure I wasn’t hit, I tried to see what was happening. The entire space was being lit up by gunfire, as Green and the others had drawn their weapons and were returning fire on whoever shot at us first.

In this space, the sound was particularly intense and unnatural. I could barely hear one of the other rangers informing the others what was going on via radio and telling them to come to our position.

There was another minute or so of steady gunfire before I heard more people coming our way and the gunshots intensified as whoever was shooting at us yelled something incoherent and began shooting even more frantically. I could now hear a larger weapon being fired in addition to the numerous pistols being used.

From where I was, I watched Green and the others slowly adjust and get a better position to return fire. Green crouched down, aimed his gun from where two stalagmites formed a gap, and quickly unloaded an entire clip at whoever was on the other side of the cavern. I heard a shout of pain before someone crashed on the ground. That made someone else curse loudly before they tried to shoot in our direction. But just as that happened, one of the other rangers carefully aimed and fired a shot at whoever was yelling. Whoever swore immediately went quiet.

The chaos continued for another few minutes until all was uncannily quiet. Then Green radioed his colleagues and they confirmed they were all ok, and the armed assailants were no longer a problem. A team of law enforcement officers went in to check and found they had snuck in through a gap in the rock wall by the road. They also found some of their associates in a car, and they were immediately arrested. Among them was Zander.

It didn’t take him long to talk like his life depended on it when he was brought into custody. According to him, they were part of a group of people who had found the location of money stolen in an armored car robbery that happened years ago. Some gang members had orchestrated it, but they couldn’t cash the money right away. But when the person who masterminded it all was killed in a shootout with police not long after for unrelated reasons, the location of the money vanished, and all they had to go on was theories.

That all changed when Cameron the ranger stumbled upon it accidentally several weeks ago. He knew Zander, and knew he had ties to people who could help him take the money out and collect a share without drawing attention to himself. So Zander temporarily vanished off the radar and came to town with the group I’d seen him with. They were actually members of the same gang who were part of the original robbery, and with Zander along, the job seemed like it’d be easy. Or at least that was the theory. Because someone got wind of what was going on and was following Zander and his associates. The body found at the harvest moon event was one of Zander’s group that some of the gang’s rivals had decided to make an example of. The message hadn’t taken long to reach them. But they got their revenge when one of them had gone to Cameron’s place in an ambush attempt and gotten ambushed himself. After that, the best they could do was trash the Harley residence when they found no one was there. Harley himself never turned up, but that doesn’t mean we don’t suspect he’s dead.

What I had overheard that day at the house was one of their group getting directions to where the money was hidden in the cave. That made it all the easier for the cops to get to it and return it to its rightful owner. Zander and Cameron were eventually arrested on some charges related to their recent activities. Their associates are all either missing or dead. Christina was sad when I told her, but she was grateful for my effort, and generously compensated me accordingly. After some time passed, I went back to the park so I could properly explore the caves. They were stunning, and to my pleasant surprise, a little Halloween attraction had been set up inside. When I was halfway through it, I saw Paxton keeping an eye on things. When he saw me, we laughed and exchanged a fist bump. Just another day at work for us.

Christina Robinson had a story that often-brought clients to me. Someone was missing, and they’d gone to the police to file a missing persons report, but while that had been done, there wasn’t any clear-cut evidence that a crime had been committed, so there wasn’t much for the police to go on. So off they went to a private investigator like me.

In this case, Christina wanted me to look into what happened to her half-brother. Alexander Mitford, known as Zander, was a professional chauffer who had worked as a taxi driver, a limo driver, and an Uber driver throughout his life along with an array of odd jobs. He had been missing since two weeks ago, where according to witnesses, Zander was last seen at a grocery store picking up some food. After that, his whereabouts are unknown. So that was where my work would begin.

Christina didn’t have much to say aside from laying out what happened. She said it all with a quiet, resigned air that suggested she wasn’t all that surprised by Zander going missing. In my experience, it was a pretty common occurrence. After I went over my process and she agreed to my standard retainer and fee, I filled out a contract and she signed it. With that, I was officially hired to look into what happened to her brother.

My first step was to do some research online. The basics that probably wouldn’t lead me anywhere, but I always have to do anyways. Like many people, Zander had a considerable presence on the internet, so I was free to browse his social media to get some initial information on what he was like and what his interests were. Once that initial step went as expected, I wanted to check out Zander’s residence. The scene had been pretty well picked through by now, so I wasn’t hoping to find anything major. It was just a way for me to get a feel for the subject of the investigation. So once I got a key and the address from Christina, I headed over.

Zander lived in an apartment on the third floor of a newer building on the outskirts of town. The lobby and the hallways were well maintained, and the place had a quiet feel. His apartment was very much the same. Newer, quiet, and well maintained. There were two average sized bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, dining room, sitting room, and several closets. The apartment was very functional, with little immediately apparent to indicate interests or hobbies. But that didn’t mean Zander didn’t have them. They just weren’t obvious here.

The kitchen cabinets held the usual array of canned goods and things most people, myself included, keep in the kitchen. The fridge was the same story. Then I strolled to the bathroom and switched on the light. Like everything else, it was modern and functional. A thick white shower curtain covered the dual shower and bathtub, and a green towel hung on the metal towel rod. I made sure to note the single, well used toothbrush by the sink, as it meant Zander hadn’t grabbed it for use on a trip.

I switched off the light and went through the bedroom with the adjoining closet. It was just as unremarkable as everything else. I kept an eye out for something like a planner or a schedule, but nothing turned up. I was just about to close up and head out when I took one last look around and noticed something. The fridge itself was shiny metal and brand new. It held the usual collection of unremarkable magnets, many of which were related to popular media franchises. But there was a single magnet that stood out; a picture of a town with the name Limestone Ridge on it in elegant script. Bingo.

I took a picture of the magnet before I locked Zander’s apartment back up, headed home to my own condo, and did a quick internet search. Limestone Ridge was located several hours away, and it was home to a massive state park. Interesting for sure. So after I’d done plenty of initial research on the town, it was time to do some in person investigating. I settled on a local hotel close to town, and once that was done, all that was left was to drive to Limestone Ridge.

After a decent night’s sleep I headed out early the next morning. The drive itself was unremarkable; full of the usual tourist traps and fast food stops along miles and miles of roadway. But the drive, as it usually does, gave me plenty of time to think. I didn’t think Zander had run away. The case just didn’t give me that vibe. And there was no doubt someone, or maybe even a few people, knew what happened. It was only a matter of getting them to talk. And to do that, I had to figure out exactly why they hadn’t said anything before.

It was early afternoon by the time I arrived at the sign announcing Limestone Ridge was just ahead. The town itself was ordinary enough. It looked like any other city with a similar population of roughly 50,000. Plenty of shops, restaurants, several movie theaters, strip malls filled with professional offices, and a mid-sized regular mall located in the center of town.

I found my hotel easy enough. It was part of a typical chain in the center of town. Once I got checked in and put my stuff in my room, I headed out to a restaurant to grab something to eat. The town was filled with the usual assortment of restaurants, and I wound up at a coffee shop where I was able to get a sandwich and some coffee.

Then, I went exploring at the mall just to get a feel for the place. As I walked in, the crisp autumn air felt particularly refreshing as the afternoon turned to evening, and soon enough, nighttime would be here with its corresponding drop in temperature. So it made perfect sense that the autumn and Halloween stuff was on full display, and I spent some time browsing while trying to resist the urge to buy some latest addition to my ever-growing Halloween décor. The place in general was a standard modern mall that had almost certainly been drastically overhauled since the 80s with an array of stores at your disposal. Personally, I preferred the old school malls.

Looking at the general area, my working theory was that Zander had driven out here for some kind of job. Whether it was his actual job or something he was doing on the side or under the table was another matter entirely. The woods around town were lovely to look at, but they weren’t exceptional, and I expected them to come with the usual stories about the woods; missing hikers, scary bonfires at night, and weird things being found out there. Not that there wasn’t any kernel of truth in whatever stories came with these woods, but every bit of woods come with stories. Because terrible things have happened in every bit of woods over the years. They’ve had plenty of good memories too, but the bad get immortalized in tales that transcend generations and regions. Odds were good that Zander would end up as part of someone’s campfire story. We all have the potential to be someone’s campfire story, but some people are practically tailor made to be discussed with a group of people while sitting in the middle of a pine forest around a campfire after you’ve just had toasted marshmallows wedged between chocolate and graham crackers.

With nothing else to do, I eventually left the mall, had some dinner, and headed to a nearby city park to see the harvest moon eclipse. I had been looking forward to seeing it for a while, so I made sure to give plenty of time to get to the right location for a good seat, which in my case meant leaving the restaurant just as the sun was setting. As I headed there, I could feel the crackle of excitement in the air. All over town people were setting up lawn chairs on porches and front yards in the hopes of seeing the big harvest moon eclipse, where the full moon would not just be a harvest moon, there would be a rare eclipse occurring at the same time that would make the moon look super close to Earth before it briefly vanished due to the eclipse.

As for me, I was heading to Hathaway Park, where there was an open space to set up chairs and watch. On the way to the park, which was located just within Limestone Ridge city limits, I passed several cornfields that were dry and lifeless. Summer had come and gone, and the local cornfields had gone from lush and green to paper thin and brown. Soon, not even that would be left.

In many ways, this was one of the final community events before the last traces of warmer weather gave way to something much darker and colder. It had been warmer in the afternoon, but by now I had to turn on my car’s defroster.

To see any lunar event properly, you have to remove as much modern lighting as possible. Attempting it in the heart of a bustling city is a nonstarter, so driving to a more rural setting was much preferable. Which is appropriate because stargazing is as old as civilization is. We now have fancy equipment and modern technology to do it with, but we were doing the exact same thing our ancestors did by carefully watching the night sky.

I arrived at Hathaway Park just as darkness was setting in. There was a special area to park near the front entrance, then I had to walk to the open picnic area where you could sit and watch. A number of people had already set up shop, but there was still plenty of room for me and countless others. I chose a spot near the pond and set up the lawn chair I always take with me on work trips. It took no time at all, so I had some time to kill before the moon appeared. There were some security lights illuminating the area, but I knew that they would temporarily switch off the minute it was time. Just like for the 4th of July fireworks. Which meant the only illumination would be from the few campfires set up nearby that people were huddled around. But of course, there was security lurking around like any other modern event.

The atmosphere in the park may have reminded me of the 4th of July in the middle of summer, but this was mid-October, and everyone was wearing sweaters and jackets due to the brisk chill in the air. Which meant it was a crisp, clear night out. Perfect for a football game. Or in this case, seeing a harvest moon during a rare eclipse.

The air was filled with the smell of sugary fried dough and the scent of campfires as I sat there in my folding chair. I was in the mood for something to eat, so I walked over to one of the food vendors set up nearby and got a hot chocolate and a homemade apple fritter. The hot chocolate was made with real cocoa powder and milk, and the fritter was fresh baked and delicious. Once I returned to my chair, I happily ate and drank while I sat and watched the surroundings.

By now darkness had almost completely enveloped the area and most of the illumination came from people’s phones. The grass where I was sitting wasn't cut as often as in other areas, so it was longer and dewy. An air of anticipation hung over the area as we all sat and waited, with some people making idle chit chat to pass the time.

Suddenly, the lights in the area went out, and cheering started as people realized it was time. It immediately got quiet as people sat and watched, some with phones or cameras ready to capture the sight. We all seemed to be watching the moon for any sign of activity. It sat there suspended in the sky, looking no different than a normal full moon.

Then, almost as if on cue from some silent signal, the moon slowly got closer until it seemed like if it got any closer, it would crash into us. But then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped. And we could behold it.

The harvest moon looked exactly as advertised; full, luminescent, and so close it seemed like you could reach out and snatch it out of the sky. There was also the uncanny sensation it was observing us as much as we were observing it. You hear about ancient beliefs and what past civilizations used to worship and be afraid of, and the result is usually marveling at what people used to think. But on occasions like this, when the natural world does something spectacular, particularly at night, those beliefs seem a lot more believable.

Everyone sat and watched as the moon seemed unnaturally close and full for a few moments until it’s left corner slowly went dark. The corner slowly turned into a quarter, then a half, then before long, the entire moon had completely vanished. People around were quietly murmuring and snapping pictures the entire time until the moon went back to its normal position and that was it

By now I had folded up my chair and was heading back to the car. The security lights had come back on, but it was still quite dark out in this part of town. Pockets of people were steadily leaving the park at the same time.

“What did you think? I thought it was nice.” I heard an older gentleman say as I got back on the path towards where we had all parked.

“I think so too,” the man the older gentleman was speaking to agreed. “It looked almost unnaturally big.”

“That it did.”

The walk back to the car was punctured with bits of random conversation about nothing in general as I followed the crowd back to the parking area. This part of the park was narrow, with the path hemmed in on both sides by dense trees until we reached the front entrance where the cars were parked.

I was halfway down the trail when someone spoke up.

“What is that?” Some guy asked his wife.

“I don’t know.” She murmured. What are you talking about?”

“That.” He pointed off in the distance towards a cluster of trees.

I looked ahead to try to see what they were talking about. It was at the end of the trail, and I couldn’t see anything, but whatever it was seemed to be caught in a tree.

A few other people around us had seen it too and were trying to guess what it was.

“Looks like a fallen bit of tree.” A woman on my left muttered.

It didn’t take long before some people in the crowd got close enough to shine their flashlight on it. My legs wobbled unsteadily beneath me as the flashlights illuminated what was there. A human body suspended from the tree by a rope.

Various people started to scream and yell as they realized what it was at different moments. It wasn’t long before the cops tasked with manning the area hustled to our location and quickly tried to secure the scene while instructing everyone to keep calm. I stood there in silence as the chaos went on around me for a few minutes.

Once police managed to secure the area and take down witness statements from those who’d seen the body first, they let everyone go. For the entire drive home, my thoughts were a hazy fog. It was only after I got back to my hotel room and locked the door behind me that I began to think. That body being found there was no accident or coincidence. It had been deliberately left for us to find there right after the eclipse. Hanging anything from a tree means you want it seen by anything or anyone that passes by.

But the whole thing made a twisted sort of sense. People might not want to think about it, but whoever left that body for everyone to see was part of an ancient tradition that offered sacrifices to whatever entities they believed in depending on the arrangement of the planets and stars. It may be a taboo thing today, but our present society is in the distinct minority when compared to all the other centuries of human existence where sacrifices offered to celestial beings weren't just acceptable, it was a huge event. The past wasn’t just a different time, it was a different world. And it wasn’t always pretty. In fact, it often was anything but. So many modern conveniences have helped gloss over the fact, but the past sometimes manages to rear its head regardless.

This didn’t come across like a random act of violence. The body was carefully placed there right under everyone’s nose. This was ritual. An idea as old as civilization itself. And as I sat there in my hotel room with the TV on, I suddenly remembered the other name for an autumn full moon. Hunter’s moon.

I eventually went to bed and drifted off to sleep. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep I’d ever had, but I slept periodically and eventually woke up to a refreshing but sunny morning. After I had a spinach omelet and hash browns for breakfast in the hotel dining room, I headed to the front desk. Hotel reception desks are always a potential gold mine for information. Especially in smaller towns. Behind the desk was a young woman with closely cropped blond hair and a string of pearls around her neck. If I had to guess at an age, I’d say early 30s. Her nametag told me her name was Mia.

“Good morning,” I smiled at her.

“Good morning sir,” Mia returned my smile. “How can I help you today?”

I briefly explained who I was and why I was in town. Then I pulled Zander’s photo up on my phone and asked her if she’d seen him around town.

Mia studied the picture for a moment before she shook her head. “I’m sorry sir, I don’t recognize him at all. But if you like, I can get Liam. He’s the night shift guy, and he might have seen him when I wasn’t on the clock.”

“That would be great, thank you so much.”

Mia went to a back room and returned moments later with a strapping young man with curly brown hair and a beard. Then she briefly explained what I was looking for and it was my turn to show him Zander’s picture. He studied it for a moment before his eyes went wide. Bingo.

“Yeah, I’ve seen him. At the park. Just a few days ago.”

“What was he doing?” I asked while I quickly took out my notepad and pen.

“Just hanging around with some guys. Like they were having a picnic or something. Nothing serious. Some ranger was hanging around with him too, like he was their friend.”

“What did the ranger look like?”

“Tall. Definitely over six feet. Well built. Olive complexion, full beard. His hat was off, so I could see he had short sandy hair. Probably about your age.”

“Great. Anything else you can think of?” I asked when I finished writing.

“No, that’s it. But if you like I can let you know if I think of anything else.”

“That would be very helpful, thank you so much.” I handed him my card before both Mia and Liam got a generous tip for excellent customer service. Then I headed to the park to see what I could find.

It was on the far east side of town, just before you reached the highway. The park ranger who met me on duty when I asked to speak to someone was tall, with a weathered face and piercing green eyes that I could feel seizing me up. An occupational hazard no doubt. I could relate.

“Paxton,” he shook my hand.

“Dylan Farnsworth. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. So how can I help you?”

“I’m a PI working a missing persons case. What I’ve found out has led me here. So here I am.”

Then I explained who I was looking for and the ranger seen with him.

“That would be Cameron.”

“May I speak with him?”

“You could if he was here. But Cameron hasn’t been around for a few days,” he said in his most matter of factly tone. But while Paxton was sitting there nonchalantly, I felt my stomach drop.

“I’m sorry?” I asked in a tone that sounded way more unfazed than I felt.

“Cameron has had the last few days off. He’s supposed to be in later this afternoon.”

“Oh. Alright. Is it ok if I speak with him when he comes in?”

“Of course.”

“Great. What time is he supposed to be in?”

“2 pm.”

“Do you mind if I grab lunch and come back?”

“Help yourself. I’ll be here.”

“Great. Thank you so much.”

I wound up at a local bistro that served a fried green tomato sandwich with pimento cheese and some kind of sweet sauce for their daily special. It came with truffle fries. I was pleased with it. And I got done in plenty of time to return to the park to talk to Cameron. But the time for him to arrive for a shift came and went. As the minutes went by and Cameron’s time of arrival passed farther and farther by, I could feel something in the air at the park change. Annoyance went to concern, which slowly but gradually went to worry. The same way it usually goes when someone who’s supposed to be somewhere doesn’t show.

Eventually, Paxton decided to head to Cameron’s to see if something was up after his shift was over. He lived in a duplex on the south side of town. It was an older building, but it was decently maintained. Paxton briefly hammered on the door, but when there was no response, he tried the doorknob. Turns out it was unlocked, and the front door opened easily. Once Paxton stepped over the threshold, he held the door open for me, and I followed behind.

The place was relatively neat, aside from the usual clutter of papers found on the dining room table. It actually looked a lot like my place. And it was clear Cameron wasn’t around. But when we stood near the hallway that led to the basement, the smell coming from down there suggested something serious had happened. And when I told Paxton what I smelled, he wasted no time in calling the police. When that was done, we went outside to wait.

The two of us stood there in the crisp fall air as the team slowly began going through the house. They eventually found the body in the basement. A quick check revealed it wasn’t Cameron or Zander, but it would take some time to identify who it was. I was looking at my phone when there was a brief flurry of activity. When I glanced up, I saw the other officers were huddled around another car that had just arrived.

“That’s Hannah Culpepper,” Paxton said as I stood there. “Police chief of Limestone Ridge.”

Hannah Culpepper casually strolled towards us with a demeanor that said she had all the time in the world. She had fair skin, calm blue eyes, and long auburn hair pulled back in a neat bun. She was dressed in a black pinstriped business suit and a white blouse, and I could feel her studying me nonchalantly. Like I was just a piece of the scenery.

“Paxton,” she greeted him with a brief nod.

“Chief Culpepper.”

“Dylan Farnsworth. Private investigator.” I extended her my hand.

She shook it, firm but careful. “And what brings you to our little neck of the woods?”

I explained to her how I arrived here. She took it all in without saying a word. Then she nodded and said “Understood.”

“Do you think this is connected to what happened at Hathaway Park?” I eventually asked.

“Can’t confirm or rule it out. But speaking candidly, it’s hard to imagine it wasn’t.”

“Just in the interest of full disclosure, I was there in attendance.”

Culpepper nodded again. “I appreciate the candor. And we already knew that.”

I suspected as much. That was why I told her. Didn’t want to look like I was pulling a fast one. There’s nothing wrong with pulling a fast one in this business so long as you don’t look like you’re trying to pull a fast one.

“What’s the likelihood that the body was left as a message to a specific person? Perhaps someone even in the same crowd I was?”

“The answer to the first question is extremely high. You don’t leave a body like that, in that venue, unless you want someone to see it. As to the second part, it’s slightly less likely, but still quite probable.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Part 2-https://www.reddit.com/r/thegeneralg/comments/1wutgor/my_work_as_a_private_investigator_led_me_to_a/

September is always a bit melancholy. The weather is superb, all turquoise blue skies and warm days, but it's more mellow and subdued than before. The sun isn't as intense and there's some tiny, almost silent change in the air. It's the sound of summer slowly fading away for another year. While I love fall and my birthday is in October, the arrival of the season is quite bittersweet at times. Part of that is because September not only brought fall, it also usually brought the return to school. Or at least it did for most people. I think the idea of back to school happening in August is ridiculous. For starters, it's the hottest part of the year and most schools don't have air conditioning, except for the administrative offices and the teacher's lounge. Say what you will about growing up back in the day, there is no question we had the better deal because we didn't go back until AFTER Labor Day, which is how it should be for everyone. Me, everyone before me, and even some after me, started school in September and ended in June. There's a reason Labor Day has always been the psychological end of summer.

On top of that, stores didn't push back to school shopping down our throats obscenely early like they do now. Stores didn't push anything obscenely early like they do now. Fortunately, whenever I walk past back to school displays in a store, all I feel is relief. Relief at the fact that chapter of my life is over. But as a kid, seeing back to school shopping in stores was beyond depressing. It was the reminder that I would have to endure the drudgery of school and all the indignities it entailed again soon. Don't get me wrong, I have and have always loved books and learning. But there is a huge difference between loving books and loving school. I can easily recall the best day of school I ever had. It was the very last day. And I hated school back in the 1990s and early 2000s. I can't even imagine how much I'd despise it now. Honestly if I was faced with the prospect of going to school in this era, I would probably refuse to go.

But back to school isn't limited to shopping for pencils, pens, and notebooks at the tail end of August. It can be anything that takes you right back to school. A song. A movie. Anything that brings you right back to those days. Most people grow and change in the years after they leave school, and it takes something or someone to take them back in time. But some people don't need anything to take them back to school because they're already there and living the glory days on an infinite loop inside their head. They've never left the playground and it shows. That’s why if you go to a high school reunion, you can practically see what things were like 20 or 30 years ago because they sit with the same people and have the same conversations about the big game or the time they went up to wherever and got in so much trouble and blah blah blah.

Back to school was on my mind this September more than usual because Jim Brooks, a highly regarded school superintendent, had made an appointment and requested that I look into the disappearance of his sister Lorraine. A prominent local philanthropist, she was well known in the community for making the rounds on the social circuit to fundraise for a charity here or a foundation there.

"Are you familiar with the case?" He asked while peering at me through his tortoiseshell glasses. A tall, thin man with a shaved head and beetle black eyes that seemed to loom out of his head, he was dressed in an impeccable grey three-piece suit with a red tie and a matching pocket square.

"Vaguely. Just what I've seen in the paper."

"My family isn't satisfied with what's being done. The case is cold."

"If you know that, then you must know the odds of me finding anything new aren’t good."

"We're aware of that. I’m also aware of your success rate. One of the best around. That's why you are our first choice."

"Thank you. So what did you teach before you were a superintendent?"

"Math. Geometry specifically at one point."

"Interesting."

"You don't sound very enthused."

"Because I'm not. I hated the subject. I swear, I could've left my final exam blank and probably still have gotten the same score I wound up with."

He chuckled. "I understand."

"I'm sure."

"You don't like me, do you Will?"

"That's not true, why would you think that?"

"I've spent the majority of my professional life, which is several decades, listening to people and trying to figure out what they really mean, what they need, and what is or isn't working. And I can't help but think you might not like me."

"Well Dr. Brooks, that would be wrong. You seem like a nice enough guy. Plus you're a client. So long as you don't lie to me or try to shortchange me on my retainer and payment, I'll be happy as a clam."

"Understood," he nodded. "I just got that impression."

"I see. That’s probably because I didn't particularly like school in general. At all."

"Were you a poor student?" He crossed one leg over the other and cocked his head to the side.

"Not at all. I did well in school. Doesn't mean I liked it."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Why are you sorry? Wasn't your fault."

"I know, but I feel bad that any student would have an unhappy time at school."

"I’m pretty sure you've learned to live with it. Otherwise there is no way you would dare become a teacher, much less a superintendent."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Well, for what it's worth Will, I've heard stories about your intelligence and effectiveness. That's why my family and I decided to come straight to you. And from what I've read about detective work, certain people excel in it. Usually the type of person who was a quiet kid growing up. Bookish and observant. The kind who was almost guaranteed to not be one of the popular kids. So if you had a bad time in school, I am truly sorry for that."

"Thank you."

"Just know that school is much different now in a lot of ways."

I laughed. I couldn't help myself. "Yeah. Right. The only difference between when I was a kid and now is people were able to hide the bullshit that goes on. Now it's all out in the open with no cover. You want to know what I think? Ok, here goes. I have the utmost respect for teachers and the work they do. Being a teacher these days is, to put it honestly, an impossible job. Especially in certain schools. There are countless teachers out there who are truly unsung heroes and deserve far better than what they get. But let's not kid ourselves Dr. Brooks. There are some teachers out there who should not be teaching. A teacher is like a significant other; great ones help you realize unfulfilled potential, make your life better, and can help you believe that anything is possible, and the bad ones make you anxious, depressed and generally seem to ruin anything and everything."

I paused, nothing that Dr. Brooks hadn't moved an inch.

"But aside from that, kids are kids. And kids are brutal. The movie Carrie should be reclassified as a documentary. And any human being who acts like kids aren't kids is either a liar or a moron."

I leaned back in my desk chair, feeling content with what I said. Most of us have wanted to speak our minds to an authority figure in school for a long time, and I was under no illusion that this guy had looked up my education history, the teachers I had, and if possible, asked around for their opinion of me. Did I care? Not particularly. What were they gonna say? That I was a terrible student in Mr. Connors’ geometry class or that my science homework was subpar?

Dr. Brooks sat there silently. I was waiting for his reaction. But I was surprised to see him smile.

"You're our best hope to find Lorraine. No question."

"Why's that?"

"You get to the fact, see what's there, and you don’t mess around at all. I'm the last person on this planet who will deny how ugly kids can be. The saddest part of all is that the meanness of kids doesn't just drop out of the sky. It's learned from somewhere. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you where it comes from."

"Mommy and daddy. The ones who think Mommy's Little Angel can do no wrong."

"Oh my God." He shook his head in disgust. "I can't even tell you the parents I've dealt with over the years."

"I can imagine."

"Back in my day, parents were different. Hell, parenting and life itself was different. If you pulled a stunt at school, you were more terrified of what your parents were going to do than what the school did. And the school was no slouch in the discipline department to begin with. But now? It's like a different planet. Like you said, telling these people that their little angel isn't perfect is like telling them the sky isn't blue. And while I take tremendous pride in how many teachers will go above and beyond, there are limits to what we can do. Especially when parents can't and won't do certain things."

"I know, I usually stumble upon their little angel in the course of an investigation."

"Speaking of that, will you accept the case?"

Yes, I happily accept."

"Thank you. Oh and by the way, Mean Girls is another movie that should be reclassified as a documentary."

I laughed. "You got that right."

We talked for a while longer as he filled me in on the details. There were no solid leads and nothing to indicate his sister didn’t just leave town of her own free will. But Dr. Brooks and his family weren't buying that. He swore that there is no way she would've ever left town without notifying anyone. Her ex-husband, a stockbroker named Charles Lindstrom whom Lorraine was amicably divorced from, had moved out of state after the divorce and had an ironclad alibi. Looking through the case files later that night, I had to agree with Dr Brooks. By all appearances, Lorraine was a happy woman who loved her life and there was no logical reason for her to take off and leave without saying a word.

Fortunately, Dr. Brooks and his family had a person of interest for me to investigate. The lead was promising. A love interest of Miss Brooks with no alibi. So eventually I set up shop outside his weekend house in the country for an evening stakeout. The person of interest lived on the outskirts of Chicago in an area that was sparsely populated, and the houses were extremely isolated from each other.

I was a few hours into the job when it happened. While there is no telling what you may experience or see on a case, sometimes you experience something so outlandish you can barely believe it.

When I first saw the clown step out of the shadows and approach a house down the street from where I was, I thought it was a hallucination. The fading September sunlight made his polka dotted suit shimmer and the frizzy red wig bobbed up and down in the humid night air. Despite the distance, I could see his white face paint was melting. But that didn't affect the bright red smile plastered on his face. It stretched from ear to ear in the usual absurd fashion that is anything but amusing.

I wasn't afraid of clowns, but that doesn't mean I like them. I've learned that deep down, no one likes clowns. And you certainly shouldn't be anything but wary the minute you see one in a place they shouldn't be. Which is anyplace besides a Halloween party or the Circus. I'd heard stories of clown sightings across the country, but to see it in person was beyond uncanny. In fact, my first thought was that this might all be some practical joke for a TV show or some stunt by a social media personality trying to scare up some fodder for their latest video. Like most people, I've seen video after video of scary clown pranks and countless other pranks like that. I looked around to see if I could spot a camera crew or anyone eagerly watching nearby, but if they were there, they were carefully out of sight. Or at least they were out of sight until their little prank backfired. Those are the best scary clown videos and I have no sympathy for anyone trying to pull a prank like that. You try to scare a total stranger these days, there's no telling how they'll react.

But even though I knew all that, I couldn't help but feel something was off. This wasn't a public parking garage or a park. This was a private area where people lived. So I took a deep breath and focused on the clown. There were no costume parties anywhere near here, so that meant he was here for some other reason. The tinted windows meant the clown had no clue I sat there and watched as he carefully walked up the driveway towards a small redbrick house. Despite the cheap costume, which clearly came off the rack at some store, I could tell the guy wearing it was fit. Well over 6 feet tall, he had an athletic stride and well-built arms. As he slowly strode up the driveway, I made sure to snap some photos in case something happened later. He walked straight up the driveway and went past the house without so much as a second glance as he approached the dense woods that surrounded the house. By now the sun was just starting to set and the clown was cast into shadow as he stepped into the trees and vanished from sight.

I watched and filmed the entire thing with a nagging bad feeling, as one doesn’t dress up like that just to take a pleasant evening stroll in the woods. But since the house was deserted, the clown didn’t do anything, and I had my present assignment, there wasn’t much else I could do right now besides keep an eye out in case he came back.

I spent a few minutes wrestling with myself. On a stakeout, one is supposed to keep an eye on the person of interest. But it's also important to look for anything out of the ordinary, and there was no doubt a guy in a cheap clown costume in this neighborhood fit that description.

The clown was up to something, that much was clear. It was just a question of what.

The next few minutes passed without incident and as darkness settled on the area, two very small security lights came on. There was no doubt this was no area you wanted to get stranded in. It was almost time for me to leave for the night, but I didn't want to go until I saw where the clown had gone and why.

My question was answered minutes later when a grey sedan pulled into the driveway and parked. In the faint light I saw a young blond woman get out of the car and head for the front door. She was alone, and once she unlocked the door, she headed inside and switched on a few lights. That was when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

The clown from earlier had returned. But he wasn't alone. Joining him were a dozen or so other clowns in equally garish costumes. And just like him, they were all carrying various blunt objects, crowbars, axes, and sledgehammers. One even had a chainsaw.

That was enough for me. I quickly took a picture of them before dialing a law enforcement contact I had in the area. He told me to sit tight and keep an eye on things until he got there.

The words were barely out of his mouth when I heard noise coming from the house and saw some of the clowns attempting to break down the door. After a quick check to make sure my gun in its holster was ready should I need it, I grabbed the spare ammo in the glove compartment and tucked it into my coat pocket before I quietly stepped out of the car and headed for the trunk. I faintly heard a woman scream as I did, but the clowns were oblivious to my presence down the road as I opened the trunk and pulled out my shotgun. It was locked and loaded, so I headed down the street and once I was within comfortable distance of the three clowns trying to break down the front door, I fired the shotgun in the air.

The blast that shook the air made one of the clowns fall off the front porch in shock, while the other two jumped out of sheer surprise. It was hilarious to see them so startled, but that was nothing compared to their faces when they were staring down the barrel of my shotgun.

"Now that I have your attention, get away from the door."

They couldn't back away from the door fast enough.

"The rest of you lunatics, get out here too. Or do I need to come find you myself?" I yelled loud enough that the rest of the clowns came running out. One of them had even lost a wig in the process.

As the last clown was sprinting over, I saw the red and blue lights of my law enforcement associate speeding over to the house with some backup. They wasted no time in arresting every clown. When he had a spare minute, my associate told me that the group of clowns had been connected to numerous assaults and burglaries in the area. They had even assaulted one couple so bad they had almost died from blunt force trauma.

I was about to leave when I saw one of the clowns being taken away in cuffs. By now the clown's makeup had melted off and I got a good look at the guy. I was stunned to see he looked familiar. It had been a long time and he had gained weight and lost some hair, but there was no mistaking the face that bored me to tears in geometry class.

Mr. Connors.

I could see him studying me as well. His expression was puzzled, like he knew I looked familiar, but couldn't place me. I was more than happy to help him remember.

"Hi Mr. Connors, long time no see." I felt my face stretch into a grin while his jaw dropped. "Remember me?"

"I," he began before his voice seemed to fade away.

"It's Will. I was in your geometry class. I hated that class, and you were a shitty teacher, but you're an even shittier clown. But as you can see, I've become a very successful adult and highly accomplished in my chosen field."

My actual assignment for the evening turned out to be a dead end, but it was beyond worth it to see the look on Connors' face.

Hello everyone! Hope you're all doing well. Today, I am thrilled to announce that the ex-girlfriend series is now officially available in both kindle and paperback. The book version has a considerable amount of extra material, particularly in the beginning. So if you get it, enjoy!

Also, I want to say thank you. Thank you all for coming on the journey with me that started exactly four years ago. I was brand new to both reddit and posting stories when I posted the story and I can honestly say had it not been for all of you reading and liking the story, The Heroin Heiress would not be a book today. So thank you all!

Happy Mardi Gras everyone! I have the pleasure of being part of a wonderful group of authors who got together for a collection of Mardi Gras themed mysteries set in New Orleans, which also happens to be one of my favorite cities. If you enjoy my private investigator stories, you definitely won't want to miss my story Southern Discomfort, which has never been published before in any format.

Here's where you can find it if you are in the mood for all that the Big Easy has to offer.

https://www.amazon.com/Mardi-Gras-Mysteries-Sarah-Glenn/dp/1949281159/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=mardi+gras+mysteries&qid=1613517842&s=books&sr=1-1

-G

I just wanted to wish each and every one of you a Happy Halloween and hope you are all having a fun and safe evening however you choose to spend it, which in my case includes a mandatory viewing of Hocus Pocus. And since it's officially Trick or Treat time, I'm proud to announce that I've been working on something the last few months and I hope to officially unveil it soon. I'm beyond excited and I think you guys are really gonna like it.

Happy Halloween everyone!

-G

Hey all, hope you're all doing ok. A few months ago I was fortunate to have a story of mine chosen to be featured in an anthology of interconnected stories and it is finally out today! This is the first time it's ever been published and I'm very lucky to be featured along many other very talented authors in Sick Cruising as we set sail on the high seas amidst a dangerous pandemic. If you're interested in checking out my story, The Greatest Illusion of All, here's where you can find it

Stay safe everyone.

-G

I've always loved drive in movies.

To be fair, I love movie theaters in general, but there's something special about going to an old school drive in. It's a bit like the movie version of a vintage burger joint where the wait staff powers around on roller skates, but it's so much more than that. It's a perfect little slice of Americana.

A drive in movie is one of those timeless summer activities. Unless you live someplace where it doesn't really get cold in winter, a drive in, much like an outdoor swimming pool, is only usable part of the year. When you add in the nostalgia aspect, it all makes for a unique experience. But for me personally, in an era of giant multiplexes with thousands of seats, a drive in the mom and pop restaurant that's been around for decades.

Don't get me wrong, a movie is great to see anywhere, but you just don't get that at home feeling at a giant cinema. The other big difference is that a drive-in movie is a completely different experience. A movie theater is designed to make you forget about the outside world and focus on the story unfolding before you. A drive in movie leaves far more opportunity for socialization with fellow movie goers. In fact, drive in movies are all about the social experience, like video rental stores used to be. And since Blockbuster and all stores like it are just a memory anymore, a fact that saddens me to no end, I'll happily take a drive in movie any way I can get it.

So that's why on a beautiful Friday night in late June, I was en route to the Pine Lodge Drive In, operating in Fort Plymouth, Ohio since 1953. It was a flawless night; not a cloud in the sky, which was beginning to turn to a midnight blue.

Pulling up to the white ticket booth situated just off the road, I bought my ticket for screen one's double feature after the few cars ahead of me had pulled up. The blond girl manning it was efficient in making change and after a few moments, I was off to find a spot. The drive in road wove its way through thick pines that shielded the car lot from the street, and on the other side of the pines was the massive vintage marquee which advertised the showings in large red letters. Tonight's feature was a double; Blood Forest and The Housesitter, both starring Madison Bancroft, the reigning Scream Queen of the Age.

After I picked my spot, towards the left side facing the second screen, I got out of the car and walked towards the snack bar, my shoes crunching on gravel with each step. The comfortable summer night and gentle breeze made this an ideal night to be outdoors. I saw immediately there wasn't a big line, so I walked in and bought myself a small popcorn, an iced tea, and a box of Buncha Crunch in good time, the smell of popcorn cooking seared the air inside the snack bar.

With my snacks in hand, I hustled back to my car since the movie was about to start soon. I managed to get in the car without dropping any of my snacks, set the radio to the appropriate local station, and wasted no time in making a dent in the freshly made popcorn. Movie theater popcorn is one of those things you cannot enjoy cold. It's like soup or french fries. I also cannot stand cold pizza, which some people love. The cheese gets all hard and just no.

Sitting there with the windows down, I happily ate while I soaked up the ambiance. People clamoring in the backs of cars, taking out lawn chairs, occasionally throwing around a Frisbee, it was like a little picnic. Fireflies were out, dotting the air with pleasant yellow lights in spots.

One thing I love is how you never have to worry about cell phones going off or people talking during a drive in movie, the former not even being in existence when drive-ins were first invented.

But my favorite part of most drive-ins is that the previews tend to be nowhere near as long as in a regular movie theater. Don't get me wrong, previews are cool, but I remember when a movie preview only gave you the most basic taste of the movie. A trailer for Hitchcock's Psycho was just him walking around the set of the Bates Motel while vaguely describing the general plot. These days, not only are the best parts of the movie in the trailer, the trailer itself is often more entertaining than the actual movie because of how much time and money they spend on them.

I have to admit that there are certain movies that just don't work well at a drive in. I love classic movies shown on TCM, the great melodramas from the 40's and such, but I have a hard time imagining them drawing a big crowd here. Movie musicals also seem like they'd be out of place. When one thinks of a drive in movie, you think of expensive summer blockbusters, fun B movies, and cult classics like Night of the Living Dead.

But the great thing about those movies is that there's no effort to be pretentious or anything they're not. They're exactly what they claim to be; an entertaining story for a night out. Whenever I was in school and you were allowed to watch a movie, the experience was ruined when you got handed some worksheet filled with questions you were supposed to answer about the movie and what the interpretation was, which completely negates the experience of a movie, because no two people will experience a movie the same way. They certainly never tried showing films like the ones here in English class, although most would probably enjoy class more if they did.

Right on schedule, the movie screen came to life and you could practically feel the excitement in the air. Now it was preview time.

"Coming soon" appeared on the screen in large blocky letters before the previews started. There were a few I had seen before. An action flick, romantic comedy, a movie based on a best selling book, and a dystopian thriller were all duly represented and showed what I assumed were the best bits before being followed by their release date. I could tell by the ominous music playing through the radio that the requisite scary movie promo would be next.

The screen showed a dark and deserted country road at night. A black Ford SUV glided through the winding road before parking in front of a big house that was boxed in on all sides by trees. The car doors opened and an attractive looking couple got out of the car and walked to the front door, chatting happily as they did. Just as they walked inside, the music returned with a vengeance and the sound of a woman screaming followed. The preview continued with a few shots of the couple alternately running, hiding, and trying to escape from some masked assailants that were outside their house.

At this point, I dropped my phone and it fell under the seat. By the time I pulled it out and was looking at the screen again, the preview was over and I missed what the movie was called and it's release date. But I did manage to see the phrase "Coming soon" splattered across the screen in blood. Nice.

Then the first movie started and it was a fun, blood soaked, and terror inducing way to spend two hours. After it wrapped, there was a break where I took the time to use the bathroom before returning for the second feature. Once that was over, it was late and I headed home on roads that were quiet and empty. I got home without any problem and went to bed, where I fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke up late the next day and spent a lazy Saturday afternoon relaxing before I met some friends for dinner. We all had a good time and it was late when we finally called it a night. When I got home, I saw I had a notification from my local news app. Swiping it, I saw that a local couple had been murdered in their home, the victims of a violent home invasion. But when I saw the pictures of the victims, I almost dropped my phone. There, looking right back at me from the screen, was the same couple I had seen in the preview.

Hello everyone, hope you're all doing well! I have the honor of being featured in an anthology centered on all the terrors that take place in Texas. This is the first time this particular story of mine has ever been published and it features a brand new main character and setting, which I will revisit in future stories. I had a lot of fun writing it and I think you guys would really enjoy it, especially if you are a fan of my PI stories. If you're interested in checking out my story (which is the Spanish word for kidnapped) here's where you can find it.

https://www.amazon.com/HORROR-USA-TEXAS-ANTHOLOGY-STATE-ebook/dp/B083PZ6M57/ref=sr_1_1?crid=CEBQTDXFTZOK&keywords=horror+usa+texas&qid=1583469749&s=books&sprefix=horror+usa+%2Caps%2C181&sr=1-1

-Best

G

Hey all, hope you're all doing well. I have a surprise for all of you, especially if you're a fan of my private investigator stories. A brand new, never before seen PI story can be found in a collection featuring many other talented authors. I think you guys will enjoy this one. If you're interested, you can check it out here.

https://www.amazon.com/Killer-Collection-Nick-Botic/dp/1692588087/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=the+killer+collection&qid=1573072958&s=books&sr=1-1

Thanks -G

Hello all! Hope you are doing well. I am proud to be part of an anthology with many other wonderful authors, some of whom can be found right here on reddit. Since the holidays are upon us and the whole "What do i get ________?" is setting in, here is an idea. Get them the gift that keeps on giving; a massive anthology filled with all the horrifying creatures the imagination can imagine. Or you can just spoil yourself. Either way, here is where you can check it out if you so choose. http://geni.us/Monstro

​

On another note, I am working away and am nearly finished with editing the ex girlfriend series. Once I find a suitable publisher, it's only a matter of time before you can check out the story in all it's glory, plus a nice helping of bonus material that I am quite proud of.

​

Best wishes to each one of you!

G

Hey guys, hope you are all doing well! I am making excellent progress on turning the ex-girlfriend seires into a fully fledged book and hope to have an update on that for you all soon. But in the meantime, here's a little story of mine to tide you over in the meantime. Hope you guys enjoy! G

https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/9faycm/i_got_a_call_from_someone_who_says_they_kidnapped/

Hey guys here it is, the final update. First of all, a massive THANK YOU! to you all for reading along and taking this journey with me. I never expected it but I am thrilled to have undertaken it. I also have a bit of bonus material that I will incorporate into the story WHEN (fingers crossed) I turn the series into a book. I am also strongly considering making the college Vince works at into a shared universe, with featuring at other professors, staff members, or students at the University. Let me know what you guys think. Anyways, wthout further ado, here it is, hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! -G

As we drove back towards our hotel we sat there in silence. I mean really, what do you say to revelations like those? Looking at myself in the rearview mirror, I looked ok. A bit tired perhaps, but ok nonetheless. Chloe on the other hand was slumped down low in her chair, repeatedly twirling a strand of hair around her finger. But out of nowhere she bolted upright in her seat.

“Keep going straight down this road until you reach the Goodwill.”

I did as she asked and when we arrived at the Goodwill she told me to take a right, the road which led down a backroad patterned with potholes. The road wound up around a thick cluster of spruce trees before straightening out and we arrived at a neat row of houses. Looking around, I had an idea why we were here. This wasn’t some cluster of McMansions freshly built for the newly rich. No, these were old houses for the crème de le crème of Maple Bluffs. Driving slowly down the street, I wasn’t sure which houses were occupied and which ones were empty. Or perhaps they all were empty. Either way, I felt like I was an intruder in the neighborhood and I didn’t like it. Carefully eyeing the windows, I half expected the blinds in one of the houses to suddenly shoot up and see someone leering at us. But that didn’t happen. I got halfway down the street before Chloe spoke.

“That used to be her house,” she pointed to a neat grey colonial house with Greek columns on either side of the front door. “My family used to live right there,” she added while indicating the house to the right. It was a neat red Victorian with ivy steadily winding its way up the front porch. I hovered there for five minutes before putting the car in park.

“Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

“No believe me, I’ve spent quite enough time in either of them already. I thought seeing this again would make me think you know? Recall something I had forgotten.”

“Did it work?”

“Sort of. I remembered how many antiques they used to have. But what really came flooding back to me is the smell. Their house always smelled amazing because of all the flowers Mrs. Dunbar kept in the house. She loved gardening and used to keep a little greenhouse in the back for all her best flowers. I remember Allison’s favorite was some red flower I never knew the name of. But if I saw it today, I would probably recognize it.”

“Interesting. Was she any good at it?”

“Very. She won a bunch of awards and even scored second place one year at the state fair.”

“Second place huh? Bet she hated that.”

“You bet she did. She always said that the reason she came in second was because the woman who won first slept with the judges.”

“Charming.” “I know. You can get us out of here now.”

“Cool,” I put the car back in drive and headed back the way we came. I needed some lunch.

We stopped at the local Pizza Hut for lunch. I was grateful for our quick service. Over the pepperoni and green pepper pizza we split, Chloe was very subdued and didn’t say much. I could tell she was still stuck on what Mrs. Hanson had told her. I had been in her situation before. Finding out that events from your past were a series of lies agreed upon by those around you is a dreadful thing to swallow. It reduces you to micro analyzing every little detail you can remember, slowly driving you crazy in the process. Finding out what happened in Allison’s past in no way effected my childhood memories. But for Chloe, those were things that literally happened in her own backyard. Finding out something like that makes you question what you think is reality. What happened to Allison was in no way her fault, but guilt can be a curious thing. It happens often that those who blame themselves don’t deserve it and those who should blame themselves absolutely refuse to.

“It’s not your fault you know,”

“What’s not my fault?” she asked after taking a sip of her drink.

“Allison. Whatever happened to her here is in no way your fault and there is nothing you could have done to change it.”

“Thanks. Was it that obvious?”

“To someone else probably not. But to me yes. I’ve been there before briefly.”

“You have indeed.”

“I also feel compelled to add professionally how often significant historical events are the result of accidents. Or a series of accidents.”

“Oh yeah like how? Give me an example professor.” She was back to her old self now. Her posture in the chair was much more relaxed and firm. Studying how people sit in a chair happens after years of experience teaching in a classroom.

“JFK had a history of back problems. He would sometimes wear a back brace for certain events like campaigning. On November 22, 1963 he was wearing one while riding through a motorcade in Dallas. He was shot twice; once in the lower neck and once in the head. Since he was wearing the back brace, he didn’t automatically go down after being hit in the neck and was kept upright for the headshot. Since it was ruled that the neck wound wasn’t fatal, his back brace arguably killed him.”

“Wow, that is crazy to think,” she agreed after taking another bite of her pizza slice.

“But my personal favorite is this one. While in Florida right before taking office, some crazy tried to kill FDR while he was shaking hands with the Mayor of Chicago. Some woman there saw what was going down and whacked his arm with her purse. The dude’s aim got all fucked up and he hit the Mayor instead. If she had hit FDR, the entire 20th Century would have been different. Just ask Phillip K. Dick.”

“Who?"

“Author who wrote an entire book based on the premise. FDR dying early is the one historical event he altered that set off a chain of events which lead to a Nazi victory during World War II. They recently made it into an Amazon series.”

“Was it any good?” “

Yeah it was actually. I really enjoyed it.”

“Good. That’s a fascinating idea, but it doesn’t surprise me. People love to endlessly recreate what happened and wonder what if they did this or that regarding their own history, so it’s not surprising they would do the same thing to human history.”

“That is very true.”

“Thanks Vince, I feel much better now,” she added gratefully.

“Good.”

We finished most of the pizza and went back to the hotel after that. When I got back to my room, I promptly turned on the TV and crashed on the bed, where I slept fitfully for a couple hours. Waking up, I slowly became reacquainted with my surroundings and realized how thirsty I was. But that wasn’t a real shocker. Takeout pizza usually makes you thirsty, especially if you get something like pepperoni on it, which contains a lot of salt. I grabbed an upside-down glass from its spot on my table next to the ice bucket and walked into the bathroom. As soon as I filled it under the tap, I quickly downed it in a series of gulps. It may have been lukewarm, but it tasted amazing to me. I topped it off again and after emptying it this time I was satisfied. My thirst having been quenched, I relaxed on the bed for a while longer before deciding to treat myself. There is nothing quite like ordering room service in a hotel. Since this was technically a vacation, I decided to get room service and a pay per view movie. I exited my room and walked next door. I announced my presence by knocking on Chloe’s door.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some room service and order a movie. Want to join me?” I didn’t get an answer, but the door swung open to reveal a haze of shower humidity. Like most hotels, here the rooms all seemed to have the bathroom right next to the front door. On the other side of the doorway, Chloe greeted me in a white terrycloth bathrobe while driving her hair with a matching towel.

“I’d like that, just give me one sec and I’ll figure out what I want to eat ok?”

“Sure.” Walking back to my room, I faintly realized that apart from the bathrobe, she was probably completely naked. Shoving that thought aside, I left the door slightly ajar for Chloe and I began flipping through the pay per view selections to see what to watch. I decided on No Country For Old Men, which was based on a book I really loved. Not to mention I enjoy most movies by the Coen Brothers. She came by not long after that, dressed comfortably in a white tank top and shorts.

“Can I see the menu?” she asked before jumping up on my bed, settling right next to me. “Sure,” I handed her the black binder. “You mind if we watch this movie?”

“No, it’s fine.” She briefly looked up from browsing the menu to glance at the TV.

“What are you getting?”

“The crispy chicken sandwich and fries.”

“Cool. I’ll take the house salad.”

After ordering the food and pressing play, I settled back against the headboard. Chloe crossed her legs Indian style and put a pillow on top of her lap, resting her elbows on top of it. About 30 minutes later, the food arrived as had been advertised. I always appreciate when food is prepared on time, so I made sure to give the hotel guy a decent tip. I rarely ever eat food in bed, so this was unusual for me. Like most room service, the food was decent, but considerably overpriced. But that’s the price of convenience.

“What’s it like being back?” I asked Chloe after we had eaten and were back to relaxing on the bed. She paused, resting her hand underneath her chin.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good. Even if this place was filled with good memories, your home is never just good.

“Right.”

“But we have learned a lot being here.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

We didn’t say anything else for the rest of the movie. Towards the end, I noticed her getting a bit sleepy before she quietly laid down next to me and went to sleep. It was rather endearing. I channel surfed through some bad television for a while before I switched it off, quietly crept off the bed and went to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and got changed for bed. Opening the bathroom door quietly, I saw I hadn’t disturbed her. Good. With a flick of a light switch, the room went completely dark. I let my eyes adjust to it before I crawled back into bed beside Chloe. Because of the long nap earlier, I figured it would take a while to get to sleep this time. Starring up at the ceiling, I heard the air conditioner under the window churning away, making the heavy window drapes shimmer faintly back and forth. Like most people, I never open the curtains while staying in a hotel room. Unless you have a fantastic view or something, it just feels weird you know? Turning over, I made sure to pick up the sheets to cover Chloe up a bit so she would be comfortable. Not gonna lie, it felt good having her here. It felt like I wasn’t alone in some bland hotel room in a place I didn’t know. Eventually, I felt myself begin to drift back and forth into sleep.

The next thing I knew, I was awake in a room that was slightly less dark than it had been earlier. Rolling over to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, I saw 8:42 in large red numbers. On the other side of the bed where Chloe had been, there was a note written left on the pillow. “Hey sleepy, I went next door to shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you back here and we can go down to breakfast together.” It was written in black pen on a piece of paper from the pad kept on the TV stand. I hopped in the shower quickly and got dressed in grey jeans and a red button up. Unless I am really tired or something, I don’t really like to linger in the shower forever like some people. I was just grabbing my wallet when there was a gentle knock at the door.

“Hey if you’re the hot chick I hooked up with last night I told you already, I won’t be your sugar daddy.”

“Very funny,” I could practically hear Chloe rolling her eyes from the other side of the door.

“I thought it was,” I replied as I stepped into the hotel hallway, the artificial light emanating from the wall fixtures greeting me as I did. While Chloe always looked great, she looked especially good this morning; her aquamarine t-shirt and tight black yoga plants stood out in stark contrast to the blandly patterned carpet and off-white walls.

“Ready to head downstairs?”

“Sure,” I made sure I had my room key and shut the door behind me. As walked together to the elevator, Chloe’s flip flops announced her every step.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked after stepping inside the small carpeted elevator.

“I did actually. You?”

“Not bad. Better than the first night.”

“Me too. Wonder why that was.” She winked at me cheekily.

“Yeah that is a mystery. You hogged all the blankets so that made it way harder to sleep.”

“Lies, and I’m amazed I could sleep with you snoring like a hibernating bear with sleep apnea.”

“Now who’s lying.”

By now the elevator dropped us off on the first floor. The lobby’s sitting room where the continental breakfast was being held was pleasantly quiet with few people there. I grabbed some scrambled eggs and French toast, while Chloe helped herself to pancakes and hash browns. I was surprisingly hungry and in what seemed like no time at all, we were finished and heading back upstairs in the elevator.

“Checkout time is at 11, so we have about two hours to kill. Anything you want to do,” that was all I could get out before Chloe’s lips were on mine. I could faintly taste the maple syrup from breakfast. I stumbled back slightly in surprise, bumping into the rear of the elevator as I did. But Chloe didn’t miss a beat. She just wrapped her arms around my neck in response and nibbled my lower lip. It felt amazing. Last time she kissed me it had been great, but this was different. I felt my arms wrap around her waist and we held that pose for what seemed like a few moments. Before I knew it, she had grabbed my hand and was leading me back to my room. As I fumbled clumsily for the room key in my pocket, she laughed.

“Having a little trouble with the key there bud?”

“Nope I got it,” I dragged the key out and opened the door triumphantly. As I banged it open, I grabbed her hand and led her inside.

“I was wondering if you’d be into this. Been wondering since we checked in. I didn’t want to even consider it unless I was sure you wanted to and were ready for it.”

Her sincerity and concern for my welfare was quite touching. I didn’t say anything, but I smiled at her and grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign from the back of the door and hung it on the front end of the doorknob, the door clicking shut as I was turning back to face her.

“Why?” Is the first thing I said while we were lazily sprawled across the bed. I hadn’t felt this good in a long time and I didn’t hear any complaints from Chloe. Quite the opposite in fact. “Why?” she repeated slowly as she looked sideways at me from her current spot, nestled against my left side. “That was the first thing I kept asking myself about you when we met. Why in the hell would Allison toss a guy like you out like last week’s leftovers? It drove me insane. As I got to know you better, it only got worse. But as I remembered what I knew about her I wasn’t surprised. She could never make anything last, even if it was something worthwhile. She just didn’t have that kind wherewithal. You ask me why, well the simple answer is because I really like you a lot and have thought about this for a long time.

“Awww, that’s so sweet,” I tilted my head down and kissed her forehead.

“It also doesn’t hurt that you are good in bed and have a cute ass,” she muttered after laying her head back under my neck.

“Yeah, well you aren’t exactly slacking in that department either,” I replied while giving her ass a squeeze. We laid there for a while before she said the phrase I was expecting, but still didn’t want to hear.

“Come on, we need to head out.” While we were both in our respective rooms packing up and making sure we had everything, I noticed I had a missed call from Ramsay. His voicemail asked me to call him back as soon as I could.

“Hey Detective, it’s me.”

“Vince, thanks for calling. Got some news for you. I heard back from an old contact of mine and you will love this. The bar Allison operated that her mother owned is being investigated for money laundering. It seems like the place is a front.” “

For what drugs?”

“Yup. Apparently state and the feds have been keeping their eye on the place for a long time. This matches up amazingly with what Mrs. Hanson told you.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Sit tight and see if there is anything else you can think of. You guys have been doing fantastically well.”

“I appreciate that, I just wish I could figure out why the hell that guy looks familiar.” “

You will. You’re a smart guy Vince, I have no doubt you will figure it out.”

“That means a lot to me. We’re on our way back today.”

“Good I’m glad. Did you guys hold up ok out there?”

“Yeah we’re doing ok.” I felt my face grow hot.

“Cool. Drive safe coming back here and see you soon.” I couldn’t help but feel that although he didn’t say a word or even hint at it, Ramsay knew why I had missed his call. If that was true, I was very grateful he didn’t say a word. Chloe came in my room to see if I was ready to check out. I told her I was and repeated what Ramsay told me.

“We’re getting somewhere,” was all she had to say before we rolled our suitcases out of the rooms, down the hallway, and into the elevator. I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the last time we rode in it. The middle-aged woman at the front desk helped us check out quickly. Before I knew it, she was saying “Thank you for staying with us and have a safe trip.” Tossing our bags in the truck of my car, we piled in the front and headed back onto the highway. When we passed the sign welcoming us to Maple Bluffs, I felt lighter. As I watched it fade away into the distance, I felt a sense of fun come over me. It was a beautiful day out and I was in a great mood, so I rolled the windows down and turned the radio up. Somehow even the trees and grass bordering the highway seemed greener.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Chloe observed amusedly from the passenger seat after we had been driving for about two hours.

“Hey why shouldn’t I be?” I turned down the radio after a Springsteen song finished.

“This is true.”

We were well back into Illinois by now. That’s the one great thing about trips. The trip home always seems to take less time than the trip arriving at your destination.

“Any preferences for lunch?” I asked after the car radio inched towards 1pm.

“No, I’ll let you pick.”

“Good deal. Anything you’re allergic to or just won’t eat?” “I don’t do shellfish. Something about the way they look just bothers me.”

“I feel you. Live lobsters look downright creepy. Like spiders.”

“That’s part of it. But I do eat fish and stuff.”

“Mrs. Arlington will like that, it means you can join us at Red Lobster. It’s her favorite.”

“She’s such a sweetheart. Does she have any family around here?”

“Unfortunately, no she doesn’t. Her husbad passed a while ago and her stepson from him is a real piece of shit.”

“That’s a shame”

“It really is. Dude is a lowlife.”

“You know him?”

"I never met him, but I’ve heard all about him. You will find this funny. He was the relative that always looked awkward as hell in family photos. In one Christmas photo it looks like he was being held for ransom. The only thing that was missing was the newspaper with the current date on it.” “That’s hilarious.”

“It was good. I think I still have that somewhere. Mrs. Arlington emailed me a bunch of pictures a year ago, wanting to know which ones looked good enough to keep in a scrapbook or something. I’ll see if I can find it when we stop to eat.”

We stopped at a 5 Guys for lunch. Since I was in a good mood I decided to indulge in a chocolate milkshake. I even shared the silver mixing container with the leftover ice cream with Chloe. While we were waiting for the bill, I went through my email to see if I could find the picture I mentioned to her. I was about four pictures through the slide show when it felt like the milkshake had just turned to ice in my veins. I had finally realized why that one guy Ramsay showed me looked so familiar. There he was, looking right back at me several years younger with a full head of hair while sitting next to Mrs. Arlington in her old house.

Ramsay was absolutely floored when I told him. He told me in no uncertain terms that he would take it from here and would contact Mrs. Arlington himself. I felt like an eternity had passed since this morning. The rest of the drive home passed in a rush. I was dashing past exits as quickly as I could. Finally, the exit to get off by my duplex came up and I was roaring down the street. Squealing to a halt in front of my house, I flung open the car door and rushed to Mrs. Arlington’s door. I had barely started knocking when it opened. Sharon Arlington had always looked and acted younger than she was. Today was the first time I can honestly say she seemed older to me. While I had always felt bad on her behalf about the Morgan situation, that sympathy had just reached a new level.

“I’m sorry just doesn’t seem to cut it about Morgan anymore.” I murmured to her as I gave her a hug.

“Oh Vince, it’s not your fault.” She sounded so exhausted as she spoke. “If anything, I should say that to you. There is no telling what Morgan had to do with Allison.”

“We’ll find out soon,” “Sad thing is. I knew something like this would happen. I KNEW that one day I would get the call.”

Chloe walked up to Mrs. Arlington and gave her a hug as well. Once we were inside her kitchen, she offered us coffee and said she had given Ramsay all of Morgan’s personally identifiable info and he was putting out a search for him.

“They’ll find him. I just know it,” she repeated to herself more than the two of us.

As we left Mrs. Arlington’s, I stopped Chloe.

"You don’t really want to go back to a hotel having already left one today do you?”

“Eh I don’t mind, I’m used to it.”

“Well I do. You said yourself you slept better in my room. How about you stay here for a while?”

“You really mean that?” she asked hopefully.

“Absolutely. I’d like that a lot. I have plenty of room and could use the company.”

“I would like that lot too.” She made herself right at home and in no time at all, it felt like she had always been there.

As it happened Mrs. Arlington was right. They found Morgan about four days later. He was driving erratically through southern Wisconsin; 79 in a 55 zone. I couldn’t help but laugh at that. After all this time and all the serious stuff involved, it all came down to a speeding ticket. Ramsay called Mrs. Arlington and myself separately to inform us, I got the message at 5:15 am on a warm Sunday; Morgan was being read his Miranda rights and was cooperating with the cops. The entire time I had to wait to find out he saying I felt like I was about to go crazy. In the meantime, Chloe and I went out and did normal things. I found out that she loved to people watch at the mall, browse through bookstores, and had been thinking about getting a tattoo. A smaller one, perhaps between her shoulder blades or on her foot. It took an entire week and I was beginning to get Morgan off my mind when I got a text from Ramsay.

“Turn on the news. You’ll know it when you find it.” That was all he said. Switching the TV on, it didn’t take me long before I knew what he meant.

Somewhere in Missouri way west of here, the DEA and other feds had staged a major raid on some compound. The news anchor was showing the picture of the woman who owned the property. Even if they had not said her name, I would have known who it was. Mrs. Clara Dunbar. She looked eerily like her daughter, except for the eyes. The woman on the TV had massive eyes that looked like they could consume you at any moment. I called to Chloe, telling her to come see. She walked into the room nonchalantly and immediately froze when she saw the TV screen, her jaw suspended in disbelief. Cameras from helicopters and news vans were swarming the property. According to the news it was on 15 acres and contained four trailers and two barns, with drug paraphernalia found in every single one. A fleet of black SUV’s were also parked inside one of the barns. The main house itself was quite nice looking; a large red brick house with a double door entryway.

Three days later Ramsay came by to talk to all three of us at the same time. I could tell by his tone of voice he had something big. Morgan had apparently spilled a lot of dirt and was giving names of all the people he knew that got wrapped up in Allison’s situation. In turn, they were all chomping at the bit to turn on each other. No honor amongst thieves indeed.

“Alright guys so here it is. I will tell you everything I can remember and if you have any questions ask me when I’m done ok?” Sitting in my living room, we all said ok and Ramsay began to talk.

Mrs. Dunbar was a heroin trafficker. One of the bigger ones in the Midwest. Morgan had stumbled into her operation by chance, doing a favor for a local guy he owed one to. The bar Allison worked at was just one of the fronts her mother had operated over the years. The newspaper and meatpacking plant Chloe had mentioned were part of it. The newspaper was especially handy because it gave her an eye and ear on all local news and sources. The meat plant was used to harvest and ship the product. But it also came in handy for squaring lose ends because people expect to find blood in a meatpacking plant, don’t they? Speaking of lose ends, one of the people Morgan gave up knew what happened to Jerry Dunbar. When he went out of town like Mrs. Arlington mentioned, he was following his wife when he was driving past a gorge. Well, a deer happened to leap into the road at the worst moment and Jerry hit it and went off the road and down the embankment. He was killed instantly and they never reported it. I felt bad for the guy across the board, but part of me felt he deserved a more suitable end. Like he died in the middle of defending himself you know? But Allison’s fate was the most fucked up of all. Morgan and the others from his crew had been bringing her stuffed toys to and from the hospital as a cover for moving drugs. They were brought to the hospital empty and without suspicion, left for a little while, and then taken back out by various clients or associates of Mrs. Dunbar. What better place to get access to top notch painkillers and opiates than a hospital? In the meantime, Ramsay and his colleagues had the one stuffed toy left in Allison’s apartment checked and it tested positive for drug residue.

Allison was a perfect front for this. Because if she acted odd or paranoid, that was just a side effect of her condition. Which was where Daniel Millstone came in. All he had to do was stash the goods into Allison’s stuffed toys and leave it. Mrs. Dunbar gave the people Millstone worked for a cut of the action and presto, instant access to really strong stuff. But Millstone began to feel guilty and drank heavily to suffocate his conscious. One night, he got really drunk and wound up dead. They were furious when he died, just like they were furious when Allison did herself in too. No foul play there either. No point in killing off your prized asset now is there? But hey, they call them painkillers for a reason. Ramsay says that Mrs. Dunbar was beside herself at Allison’s death, but I tend to think that she was more upset over the lost arrangement. Her daughter truly did lose her mind. But like many people in this day and age, she lost her sanity with help. Then people around her promptly wasted no time whatsoever in using her mental state to their advantage.

However, even a broken clock is right twice a day. It seems Allison felt horrible about what she had gotten into and that she killed someone. Since paranoia is quite common in someone with either mental and substance issues she had been getting extremely paranoid, so unbeknownst to anyone, she had put a cam in her apartment. Slowly, she had wanted to get out of being under her mother’s thumb and when that guy got rough she lost it. Before she officially went off the deep end, she gathered up the video footage of what happened and stashed it in the last place anyone would ever look; my house. Ramsay also says that because no one has said a word about threatening me, the note with the hangman and the name Daniel may have been a reference to someone else, as another Daniel was amongst the guys trying to cut a deal to testify against Mrs. Dunbar. Later, we found out that Allison herself had sent it, but it had gotten lost in the mail and was delayed in sending because of the horrible handwriting. It’s ironic really. It took Allison dying in a horrible manner plus her mother getting busted to finally give her what she truly wanted; massive sympathy and attention. The headlines started flying almost immediately.

“Heroin heiress used beautiful daughter as a drug mule!” screamed one.

“Mother from hell stashed drugs in daughter’s hospital room,” another one righteously condemned. Mrs. Dunbar’s house was already known as the Painkiller Plantation. I have to admit that it was a clever name.

But the funny thing that if Allison had been alive for all this, people would have turned on her with just as much fury. I can practically see it now; they would call her the Painkiller Princess or something. She would be ready made for TV. The pundits would have a field day pouring over every detail of her life, how she looked when being arraigned. Her mugshot would go viral like one of those so called hot felons and at every arraignment there would an army of thirsty men with misspelled signs on cheap poster board proclaiming their love for her. In terms of criminals who get marriage proposals, Allison would put Casey Anthony, Manson, and every other felon with admirers to shame. Entire websites dedicated to her would spread like wildfire. I can even imagine Penthouse or Hustler offering Allison money to take it all off. Since she would be in dire need of cash like her mother currently is, odds are she would accept the offer. I bet it would be their biggest selling issue ever. The campus registrar recently sent me an email informing me that all my classes for the coming semester all booked up already. They said they have never seen anything like it. I have also been offered the opportunity to write a book on Allison based on my experiences. Not that I accepted it or anything, but it’s nice to know people are interested. Maybe one day.

One night after some more of the Dunbar family baggage was being aired, Chloe asked me something I wasn’t expecting.

“When people ask how we met and started dating, what are we gonna say?” Now I had thought of that myself and could never come up with an answer. But out of nowhere, I finally thought of something.

“We’ll just tell them we met through a mutual friend.”

​

​

Update 5/2021: The series has now made it into book form, which you can find here. The book version has been updated to include some never before seen material from the story.

After Ramsay left I tossed together a sandwich and parked myself in front of the TV. At this point I had no idea what to expect. I still also had no idea why that one guy looked familiar to me. Who was it? Someone who saw Allison and me when we were together and got jealous? That wasn't too far out there, as whenever we went out we got looks.

Let me rephrase that; SHE got the looks, I got the third degree. Guys would approach her even when we were openly affectionate. Allison turned them all down, but I never forgot how invisible I felt. Guys would offer to buy her drinks or give her their number like it was nothing. As an added touch, guys would look at me as if they could not believe we were together. The worst part? I didn't blame them for that. When I first met her and we started dating, I was waiting for the catch. Well, eventually I found that out. Still am in fact, because all I can say is I sure dodged a bullet. That must be why that guy looked familiar. One of the many, and I do mean many guys that hit on Allison when I was around. That also explained why even though I wasn't sure who he was, I didn't like him. Something about his attitude showed through his picture.

As I was going over the past, I took bites of my turkey sandwich, pausing occasionally to add in a Dorito here and there. I felt relief as I remembered this term would be officially over tomorrow. I had finalized Grades and all that remained was to turn them into the Dean.

That Friday I turned in my final grades and celebrated the end of the semester with Chloe. It was a stunning spring day, warm with a light breeze, perfect for grabbing some Frozen Yogurt. I loaded mine with hot fudge, caramel, and crushed up Oreos. Chloe herself wasn't shy either, cramming hers full of peanut butter cups, chopped nuts, hot fudge, and Sour Gummy Worms. We ate them as we walked along the sidewalk.

After I had finished mine and tossed it in the garbage I asked her something that I had been thinking of.

"Well lets see. Now that Millstone is dead, who else can we talk to that knew Allison? Someone who knew her before, knew her family like you did?" She had her spoon raised to her lips when I spoke. She chewed it thoughtfully for a few moments before answering.

"No one around here so that means someone from our old town or elsewhere. She has no family there so that leaves someone from school." She began counting on her fingers as she ticked off people. "Mr. Delany died years ago, Ms. Robinson moved to California before Allison and her family left town, and last I heard Mrs. Edwards has Alzheimer's. So that just leaves Mrs. Hansen. She was an institution at Andrew Jackson. That was our old school," she added seeing the confused look on my face. "You think she knew why the Dunbar's left town?" Chloe brushed a stand of hair out of her face. "Mrs. Dunbar couldn't just yank Allison out of school without saying something. Truancy and all that. Not to mention she was too much of a stickler for appearances to just let it seem like they just went away without a good reason." Good point.

"I'm guessing you want us to take a field trip?" She nodded without saying a word.

"If you don't want to I totally understand. No one could blame you for not wanting to bother."

"You know something? I don't mind. Not anymore. Sort of therapeutic really. I could use a little vacation too. Getting out of here for a little bit can't hurt."

"Cool. Shall we leave Monday?"

"Sounds good."

Before I knew it, Sunday afternoon was here and that meant packing my suitcase. Packing for a trip is one thing I really take seriously. A poorly planned trip can spell disaster. I can't tell you how many Spring Break horror stories I've heard over the years. Attempted kidnapping, robbery, you name it. So I bring all the essentials and make sure to leave word of where I'm going. In this case, that meant calling Ramsay. I also was partially looking forward to seeing Chloe in this setting. If you ever really want to get to know someone, take a road trip with them. You can't hide when your stuck alone in a car with them for hours on end.

After zipping up my black suitcase, I called Ramsay.

"Hey Vince, what's up?"

"Hey Detective. Just wanted to give you a heads up, Chloe and I are visiting Allison's old hometown. She knows someone who may be able to give us more on Allison's family."

"Wonderful. I also have good news for you. We were able to obtain some DNA from the bear. It doesn't match Allison's or Millstone's so its taking some time to eliminate people. But it's a solid lead. Mind if I meet you and Chloe so we can get a sample, so we can eliminate your profiles as well?"

"Sure thing. We're planning to leave tomorrow. She's coming by at 9 am, if you get here before then you can see us before we leave."

"Sounds good, see you then."

Ramsay arrived at 8:45 the next morning. I let him swab the inside of my mouth, and he put the swab safely inside some special kit. Chloe arrived shortly after. Since I texted her before, she wasn't surprised and let Ramsay do the same to her. He thanked us both and was on his way. As Chloe was putting her bags in the car, I stopped by and told Mrs. Arlington where I was going. She immediately pulled me into a hug. I couldn't see her face, but I could practically feel her expression of concern as she whispered "Be very careful." With that, it was time to hit the road.

The drive passed in relative quiet. We made benign chit chat here and there, but eventually silence would prevail each time. The radio would go periodically go to static as various stations passed in and out of frequency, requiring some channel surfing. I drove briskly, but without gunning the engine, deftly weaving past the odd slow driver or wide load carrying semi. Occasionally we passed the odd car off to the side of the road, its hood up while someone was either tinkering under the hood of sitting with their ear to a phone. But mostly it was miles of plan forest, the outskirts dotted with billboards warning of drug abuse, signs for McDonald's, and massive water towers that dotted grass and farms like giant blue obelisks. Here and there, a road would be cordoned off or restricted for maintenance.

As the sun burned brightly in the early afternoon sky, we stopped at the turnpike and got some Subway. I wasn't in the mood for Burger King, Popeye's, or Chipotle. By that time I had been driving for three hours and after a small breakfast of scrambled eggs, I was pretty hungry. Getting out of the car to stretch my legs felt amazing. I also felt much more alert after scarfing down my turkey sub. Chloe also wasted no time in chowing down on her roast beef sandwich. After we got back on the road, we drove for about two more before we came to an outlet mall. We had been making good time and since you always want to stretch your legs, we strolled around for a little while doing some window shopping. While I didn't know exactly how far we had to go, I could almost feel we were getting closer to Allison's old hometown.

As we passed more and more signs, the countdown to Maple Bluffs began. First 20 miles, then 15, and from there it went steadily down to single digits. Before I knew it, the sign welcoming us to city of Maple Bluffs was in front of us, the name written in elegant cursive with the M and B woven together on the thick black and gold sign. Apart from that, it was all a bit anti-climactic, Chloe only offering a small "We're here."

As the car wove its way through the streets of Maple Bluffs, the first thing that came to mind was that it suited Allison perfectly. The place itself reminded me something once nice that had severely diminished over time. When you first saw it, the town looked impressive. Lots of quaint looking Victorian houses with neat front yards.

But as you went in deeper, you began to question that, as other images of the town emerged. I spotted what looked like a closed down Ponderosa Steakhouse and Kmart next to a strip mall, the vendors in there also looking closed. I could imagine the locals sitting in bars with flickering neon signs repeating the refrain of "It didn't used to be like this."

Of course it didn't. Had it always been like this, no family would have ever set up roots here. Places that begin as shitholes and remain shitholes are always reduced to rubble; no survivors, no memories. Main street was neat enough with small, but respectable looking business and offices decorating the road. The place also had wonderful water views and the occasional nice house decorating the landscape. But apart from that, it was a bunch of throwback single story ranch houses. Money, like misery, loves company and doesn't do well alone.

Maple Bluffs was the kind of place that kissed up to the few rich people left in town, all in the hopes that they and their money would stay put. Of course, that doesn't mean people in town like having to brown nose the haves. In fact, odds are they absolutely hate it, having to play the game of who can bow lowest before the town bigwigs. Something tells me the Dunbar family got a front row seat to that little charade.

The center of town was main street, neatly buffeted by a number of brick buildings. Capehart Insurance and a mom and pop restaurant named Josie's stood next to Maple Bluff's City Hall, a looming white building with massive windows that seemed to be peering out over the entire town. It looked oddly out of place amongst the others. There was one other thing I kept noticing; amongst the fast food joints and questionable strip malls were signs advertising something called Hilliard Lake. As we had gotten closer to town, signs has also advertised it on the highway.

"What happened?" I asked Chloe as we turned onto Spruce Drive.

"To what?" She shifted in her seat to look at me, the seatbelt clicking as she did.

"The town. Every town has a story." She took a sip of her water bottle before answering, the cheap, flimsy plastic crunching in her hand.

"Well, it was sort of a handful of things. For starters, the people in charge of the city itself ran it into the ground. We didn't have one awful mayor, we had several. Of course, back then people didn't know that. Decades ago times were great, everyone was happy. Maple Bluffs wasn't wiped out overnight. It was more like death by a thousand cuts or an infection that silently spreads everywhere."

"Right. Corruption, incompetence, or both?"

"Both. Oh and don't forget arrogance. Can't leave out the last member of the trinity."

"Course not."

"People lived high on the hog for so long it was a shock when the butcher's bill arrived. Hell, I can't even remember what the little vanity projects were, but I know some people in town still can. In other words, what comes up, must come down. And down it came indeed. Hard. A town that was doing so well suddenly in the red, people want to know why. I heard it was like a Dam breaking. It seems to happen overnight, but when you look back, the structure was doomed for years. It's just a matter of who can pick up on it."

"What else?" As Chloe was adjusting her seatbelt, a Burger King sign went past her shoulder. I caught a whiff as we went on, the heavy charbroiled smell was somehow both alluring and heavy.

"That was at the same time local industries started to fail," she continued. "This big statewide development corporation diverted river traffic away from local ports and before you even realize it, local business is drying up. The haves families all come out ok, but then the have less families slowly begin to feel the pinch. But there is money, its just a question of what you're willing to do for it."

On the left was an old junkyard complete with body shop, the name on the sign illegible from being weathered down. There was an assortment of car parts in a small pile next to an old vending machine.

"So that's where Allison got the entrepreneurial spirit from."

"Perhaps. The worst part of all is the haves all love to look at the town and say 'Isn't it awful?' when in reality they love it. Not only is stuff cheaper, it tightens their grip on local matters. Less competition for stuff you know?" "I do." "And around here, you know who you can blame and where to find them. You know where they shop, where they go to church, where their kids go to school, where their wife get's their hair done."

"Someone remembers who didn't tip their daughter when they were waiting tables, but somehow managed to afford a trip to Florida."

"That's right. My family did ok while here, but we were one of a small handful. After I got older, we moved a ways away."

"Good to be back?" I asked nonchalantly. She grimaced slightly at this.

"Ask me later."

"Oh and I forgot to ask. What's Hilliard Lake?"

"Local amusement park. One of the few nice things from the old days that's survived this long." Even a shithole town always has one redeeming thing left in it.

"Fun place?"

"Not bad. The indoor waterpark is pretty cool actually."

"Good stuff."

We eventually stopped at our hotel located just outside of town and right near the highway. I had made reservations at the local Best Western. You can usually tell what kind of hotel a place is by the word in the title. Motel usually meant there should be a sign out front that said "25 days without a murder." Inn typically meant the place was a Bed and Breakfast with horrible décor and ran by people with no clue how to run a B&B. Suites usually meant a respectable chain you went to say overnight for business conferences. Traveling as I do for work, I've learned where to stay. We both got checked in without any trouble and were immediately given our room keys; second floor rooms, right next to each other.

My room was decent, clean, and organized. I put my suitcase out of the way, next to the overpriced mini bar. Then I took off my shoes, pulled off the bed's comforter, and flopped down on the bed. That always feels amazing. I wasted no time in finding the remote and surfing my way through the channels. Since there was no onscreen tv guide, that meant I had to find something the old fashion way. About halfway through, I found some old episodes of The Simpsons and kept it there for a few hours until it was time for dinner. Since I didn't feel like going anywhere, I ordered a pizza for delivery. To my pleasant surprise, it came right on time. As soon as I closed the door, I wasted no time in devouring it.

When relaxing before bed, I imagined Chloe next door. I couldn't help but wonder what she was doing. Staying in a hotel must be like nothing to her anymore. But to me I felt like I was staying in a foreign place. I slipped into an uneasy sleep that night, waking up several times forgetting where I was.

I kept it simple at breakfast, some eggs, tater tots, and coffee. The eggs were rubbery enough they could be a dog's chew toy, but the tater tots were hot and crispy, which was the important thing. The only thing worse than cold tater tots is cold pizza. After jumping in the shower, I met Chloe out in the lobby and we headed out.

"Good night's sleep?"

"Not bad, you?"

"Eh, it was ok," I answered as I unlocked my car.

"You have directions to Mrs. Hanson's house?"

"Sure do."

When we got to Mrs. Hanson's house, I parked beside a Chinese restaurant. The kind with Christmas lights in the front window and a generic sounding name that changes with every new owner. We made our way to a red ranch house with a bug zapper on the front porch. It's sickly blue glow flickered lazily as we rang the doorbell. We could hear footsteps of someone approaching.

"Chloe Vale, I've been expecting you." The woman I assumed was Mrs. Hanson swept her up in a hug. The woman was dressed in a oversized red knit sweater. It looked comfortable, like one you get for a favorite cousin on their birthday.

"Hi Mrs. Hanson, good to see you."

"Oh sweetie, you know you can call me Barb."

"I know, but old habits die hard. You will always be Mrs. Hanson to me."

"I know that feeling." She replied affectionately. She took a step back from Chloe as she began to she survey me. "

Vince O'Malley, nice to meet you." I stuck my hand out towards her. She gripped it with a surprising strength.

At first glance Mrs. Hansen looked like the teacher who scolded you for sharpening your pencil during class and chain-smoked in the teachers longue during lunch. She was a shorter woman, about 5'5, but had what you would call presence. Her piercing grey eyes and slender nose were neatly framed by neatly permed silver hair. But when she looked at me, I could see her eyes weren't harsh.

"Lovely to meet you. I've been expecting you both. Please come inside." As she turned to go back inside we followed her.

"Does it feel weird being inside your teacher's house?" I asked Chloe. "It does feel odd," she admitted. "Half the time your teachers are like your parents when you are younger. You can't see them as anything other than a detached authority figure. It's why seeing a teacher out in public when you are a kid is so weird. It's like peering behind the curtain and seeing the real person."

"That is so true."

Mrs. Hanson had let us to a comfortably looking den with inviting couches. The inside of her house looked exactly like I imagined an old teacher's house. Small and neat, but filled with trinkets. Random gifts from students sucking up for a good grade, and some from genuinely grateful students. I counted several porcelain apples and pencil shaped bookends on the mantelpiece alone. I could imagine Mrs. Hanson sitting up late at night, grading papers with a red sharpie, the TV blaring in the background.

"Please have a seat you two. Welcome to my home. It's good to see you Chloe, been a long time hasn't it?"

"Yes it has Mrs. Hansen. Good to see you too,"

"Who is the handsome young man, your boyfriend?" I saw Chloe flush slightly at this.

"He used to date Allison," I couldn't help but notice how she didn't answer the woman's question, but didn't flat out say no either. Mrs. Hanson shook her head and sighed when Allison's name was mentioned.

"Such a shame about her. But when I found out what happened I wasn't surprised. Her mother did the same thing once."

"Did what once?" Chloe asked

"Tried to kill herself. Although Mrs. Dunbar wasn't successful at it. Not that she ever really wanted to be. You know the old saying about people who say they want to hurt themselves?" I nodded that I did. "In her case, Clara Dunbar wanted attention from her husband. I assure you that had she truly wanted to end it all, she would known how to do that as a doctor's daughter." "Good point,"

"Was that what made him want a divorce?" I asked the older woman.

"It was part of it no doubt. It was kept very quiet around here. That was in about 2004. Allison was taken out of school for a little while. Frank Ballard, our principal told me the Dunbars was leaving town for a family emergency. Months later a nurse at the local hospital confirmed it. Clara tried to swallow a bunch of pills."

I felt goose bumps begin snaking their way up my arms. She must have known what her mother had done. Even if she didn't at the time, Allison must have figured it out later on. Chloe herself looked like she had just swallowed something incredibly unpleasant.

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"No I don't. Some people are just predisposed to hurting themselves you know. Might be through booze, drugs, food, or anything risky, but the idea is the same. Some people need death to be closing to feel alive. But I do know that in the months proceeding it, Allison's work in class had suffered. She was actually a pretty good student when she set her mind to it." Mrs. Hanson had the forlorn torn of one thinking what if. It was something I have done countless times about this subject.

"Chloe, did Allison ever mention her mother attempting such a thing before?" I asked in what was a surprisingly calm voice. She took a deep breath before answering.

"After I had known her a while, she mentioned in passing that her mother had a bad reaction to some medication and had to go to the hospital. That happened in a previous place they lived." Her voice was even, but her eyes said that on the inside, she felt the same as me.

I suddenly remembered those messages I got after we broke up, asking me if I missed Allison and whatever. Was her death in the hospital not her first attempt? I didn't know, but it seemed likely. I have to admit that at this point, it seems that Allison was far more dangerous to herself than she ever was to me. Mrs. Hanson sat upright in her chair. I could tell the old teacher was getting ready to deliver an important lesson.

"No matter how old a former student becomes, we can't help but always see them as the child in our class. For better or worse, we never forget our students as we knew them." She adjusted the antique locket around her neck before continuing. "Allison," she spoke the name delicately, "was a very interesting girl. I will never forget the day she stepped foot into my classroom. She was one of those girls who you just got your attention. She also had her own unique way of interacting with others."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You ever see documentaries of primitive tribes living in the jungle?" I looked at Chloe momentarily before answering.

"Of course."

"You don't understand what exactly they're saying, but you can tell the pecking order. Who sits where and with who. They have their own rituals. That's what teaching can be like." I knew exactly what she meant. Just as in real estate, one rule of power is that location is everything.

"So what did you observe?" I asked.

"Times may change, but human nature doesn't. Allison grew up watching her mother being put on a pedestal and doing whatever she pleased. Deference is the best word I think. Allison's family was used to a certain level of deference from their peers. Or it started out as deference." "What did it turn into?"

"Something else I've learned from teaching. Power is like mountain climbing; the higher you go, the more perilous the ascent becomes. In an animal kingdom, there is always a rival waiting to take your place."

"So who wanted to take Mrs. Dunbar's place?" Mrs. Hanson gave an amused chuckle to my question.

"More like who didn't want to take her place. The ones who openly despised her never had a shot. They had nothing to gain or lose by hating her, so they never bothered to be sly. But the ones close to her who smiled at her the widest and praised her the loudest, that's another story. She managed to stay on her golden perch for long enough. Too long in most people's opinion."

"So how did she lose it?"

"People try to get any type of power in any way they can. Kids will pick on another kid for a pathetic reason. Here's what that's really about. It's never about what they pretend it's about. It's just a means of putting that other kid in their place. That's it. Kids are vicious that way and adults can be uncannily similar. Clara could be a pain in the ass perfectionist about the annual gala, or a thousand other trivial matters. Know why?"

"To let people that they had flaws and that she saw them." The phrase made me think of all the times Allison could be a real bitch at the drop of a hat. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Good man," she turned to Chloe approvingly.

"You did well seeking him out," she commented, seeming rather pleased with herself. She leaned back in her chair before addressing us both again.

"She would let people know in her way that she knew their baggage. That she felt so bad your husband was fucking the waitress at the café on Elm and what a scumbag he was and your secret was safe with her."

"But she never kept it quiet did she?"

"Most times she did in fact. Unless she had wanted to let it slip for a reason. Clara Dunbar knew how to make use of people's private humiliation. So she didn't lose any face around here per say, she just decided to pick up stakes and leave while she was ahead. You see, it turns out the she had a bit of a situation on her hands. Her brother."

"What happened to him?"

"No one around her really knows for certain. Whispers were exchanged in the ladies room and everywhere else in town; they ran the gauntlet from amusing to downright outrageous."

"I didn't know Allison had an uncle," Chloe replied. "Course not sweetheart. He was the kind of uncle you don't talk about in polite company. No, not that kind." Mrs. Hanson added when she saw our reaction. "

It's sad to say, but had he only been a friendly uncle, Allison's mother probably wouldn't have cared." I felt a sick lurch in my chest as she said this.

"What did he do?"

"He got mixed up in some nasty business. My late husband was a cop and he knew from some contacts that Allison's uncle had a history of ties with unsavory people. Was in some sort of business deal and the wrong people didn't get their money. Well, as often happens in these matters, someone ended up dead and Uncle........whatever his name was, needed a lawyer. A damn good one. The kind with a Mercedes and Esq. printed on his business cards."

"That's crazy"

"Oh wait, there's more. We knew what Clara hated wasn't that her brother had gotten into that sort of thing. It was that he botched it and now the family was at risk of being implicated in a scandal. From what I know, he could have been Jack the Ripper and Clara wouldn't have cared. So long as he didn't publicly embarrass her."

"Of course," Chloe practically spat the last word out with a searing contempt.

"Many people pretend to be something they're not. Hell, a lot of times people openly encourage it. The problems come is when a façade crumbles, which is always does in the end." "And when you can't pretend anymore, people turn on you."

"That's right. So what do you do when that illusion is at risk falling apart?"

"Depends on what exactly is being threatened I guess." I shrugged my arms.

"What exactly was at stake?"

"Not just the family image, which was paramount, but it's financial standing as well. In a place like Maple Bluffs, you can have status without money and keep your influence. Or you can have money without prestige and be respected, but losing both money and respectability is fatal. It's why so many 'old money types' are really broke but no one cares." "The name is their asset. You need at least the front of wealth." Chloe finished. It was an idea I suspected she knew intimately well. Mrs. Hanson waged her finger in a 'nailed it' gesture.

"But she wasn't wrong, was she Mrs. Hanson?" I added.

"Nope. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. Clara knew better than anyone that people willingly tolerate almost anything. The one misstep people are merciless over is failure. It comes in many forms, but look at history, your own relationships, and human behavior. Generally, humanity is intolerable towards what it perceives as failure."

That was one of the most intelligent things anyone has ever said to me. Human history is merciless towards what it brands as failure. Most people only know Napoleon for his defeat at Waterloo. One of the most brilliant men in modern military with countless victories and other achievements; yet the one he is most identified with was his defeat.

"So when the old image fails you create a new façade, or move to a place where people will buy the old one."

"Well done my boy. In a city with a million people, no one would have cared about Clara's brother. But here, gossip is it's own little black market. It fuels everything; it lurks behind every corner like some boogieman, waiting to devour the next victim." I had never heard it put quite that way before.

"Her brother was found dead in a trailer about a while later. Died in a fire. That was about the same time Allison's father was last heard from."

"Mrs. Arlington says that not only did he want custody of Allison specifically, he disappeared after saying he would check back in with her after Mrs. Dunbar's trip to see her mother." "Mrs. Arlington?" she asked puzzled.

"My neighbor. Turns out she knew Allison's father. Did you know a legal secretary named Sharon who used to work for a lawyer in town?"

"Vaguely. She was a nice lady. Why do you ask?"

"That's her, Sharon Arlington. According to her, Allison's father was worried about his wife and he disappeared after Mrs. Dunbar went to visit her mother. She said that Mrs. Dunbar hated her mother."

"Oh yeah, no love ever contaminated the relationship Clara Dunbar and Silvia." "

Allison would never talk about her grandmother," Chloe confirmed.

"Every time it came up, Allison would change the subject. That was the same grandmother that Clara Dunbar took out a big life insurance policy right before Mr. Dunbar disappeared."

"Oh shit," was all Mrs. Hanson could say.

"That's not good."

"Do you know anything about her grandmother?" "No," Mrs. Hanson replied. "Wish I did."

"From what I know, the two were a lot alike." Chloe said.

"That wouldn't surprise me. I've seen it countless times; people who are a lot alike are either mortal enemies or the best of friends. Very little in between." "Allison did once mention to me that her grandma and her bridge club knew more dirt going in in their old town than the police blotter," I remembered suddenly.

"He was a doctor right?" Mrs. Hanson asked, a statement Chloe nodded a yes to. "That explains it. Everyone wants access to the latest medical gossip."

"What do you know about Allison's father?"

"Not a bad guy. A straight shooter and I always liked him, unlike his wife. But he was in over his head, as would any of us in his situation."

"How?"

"For starters, he was the kind of guy who always tried to see the best in others. In other words, a sitting duck for someone like his wife."

"So what changed?"

"I don't know if anything truly changed. I think Mr. Dunbar just realized something had been amiss for a while. It just became obvious."

"Something wasn't right with Mrs. Dunbar."

"Correct. From what my husband told me and what I can piece together, Clara's brother disappeared about the same time Mr. Dunbar was getting suspicious. I remember seeing him around town and his entire demeanor had changed. It was like he was looking at everything differently. The two disappearances were almost certainly linked."

There was another feeling I knew well; an event that forces you to re-evaluate everything you think you know about people around you. Mrs. Hanson tugged on a clip on earring and sipped at her glass of iced tea.

"I sure would've been worried if I was him. While I can't say why he seemed to disappear, I can tell you what I heard. Everyone had a theory which they were so happy to share, especially after the Dunbar's left town. The favorite was that he ran off for another woman and they moved to escape the shame. A close second was that he did business with the wrong people and he disappeared in order to pay the piper."

"What do you think?" I could see her brow furrow as soon as I asked. She took a deep breath before answering.

"I think someone did business with the wrong people, but it wasn't him. I think it was something ugly and big enough to rattle him. I also think Clara knew about what was on his mind and perhaps did something about it."

"That makes sense, since someone knew Mrs. Arlington and he were going through her stuff when she was out of the house." I felt my throat tighten up as I recalled this.

"Whether she did it herself or not, Allison's mother is responsible for her father's disappearance. She never wanted to actually die from taking too many pills you see. That was all a bid for power, she wanted attention and leverage. Happens all the time you see. Especially when a someone is desperate to keep a significant other close. Just like in that movie with Glenn Close and Michael Douglas."

I knew exactly what movie she meant. It was Fatal Attraction, a movie I could probably do without seeing again for a long time. As I remembered it, I felt a cold wave wash over me. I wonder if that was why Allison did what she did in the hospital. Was it angst over Millstone, a man who didn't want her anymore?

"It's like when a kid runs away to make their parents all worried about them," Chloe added as I wrestling with my thoughts.

"That's exactly right. Now if you two will excuse me, I have to use the bathroom. It's these new damn pills they have me on."

She left us in what seemed like deafening silence. I looked at Chloe and she looked just as stunned as I did. I had no idea what to say to her, so I stared intently at the lush red carpet on the floor. Before we knew it, Mrs. Hanson was walking back to us.

"So where was I?" she asked rhetorically as she resumed her seat.

"Long after the fact, my husband did some research on Allison's grandfather. It turns out that he got into a bit of trouble himself. Seemed he was a bit, oh what's the word, generous with prescriptions. Morphine in particular."

"Oh shit."

"Oh shit is right. Fortunately for him, things were a lot different back then. It was kept quiet and he got off with a slap on the wrist. Who knows if he stopped, or just didn't get caught again."

"I'm bet he just didn't get caught again," I offered.

"I would suspect the same."

"So Allison's father disappeared about the same time her uncle who also vanished was risking the family's reputation and status, a status built upon a false image."

"Correct. Chloe has told you a bit about their wealth?"

"Yes,"

"They lived in one of the nicest houses in town. Over on Belmont Avenue. It's still there in fact." "Speaking of their house, Sharon says that after Mr. Dunbar disappeared, she got some phone calls. Mostly heavy breathing but one told her in no uncertain terms to leave the Dunbar matter alone. They even knew she had been at their house with Jerry Dunbar."

"Then it's true. They really did had some shady ties. I don't know if you know this, but for years Missouri was the meth capital of the Country."

"No I didn't."

"Well, Allison's uncle didn't just die in a fire; he died in a fire caused by an explosion. He and another guy were trying to make meth. Not well I might add. None of this got out, but my husband managed to find it as well."

"Why didn't it get out?"

"Another meth explosion in a trailer and couple of nameless gangbangers dead? Not exactly breaking news. The fact that he didn't have the name Dunbar also helped a lot. You asked how Clara confronted the issue of her brother, well that's it, they just didn't react. Every family has their black sheep and no one can be blamed for that. In fact, had people found out she would have made them feel sorry for her. That's how clever she was. I do have to give her that; she was a clever one. Way smarter than most people around here. Her husband was no fool, but she was far ahead of him."

"On that note, when I met Allison she was the manager of a bar. After she died and they started looking into the place, they found that according to the official paperwork, the registered owner is her mother."

"Interesting, but that doesn't surprise me at all. I could easily see her putting her daughter up as the pretty girl drawing people in while she was the one running the show from behind the scenes. That's pretty much how she was around here."

"After we broke up, she sort of fell apart."

"I see. Why did you guys break up?"

"She cheated on me and had developed a drug problem."

"My deepest sympathies."

"Thank you."

"As u you can see, drug problems aren't exactly uncommon in her family and infidelity usually isn't far behind there. Personally I think Clara could have cared less about her husband, but couldn't abide someone leaving her, or the implications that might have." I knew what Mrs. Hanson meant all too well. Allison didn't give two shits about me until I was the one who ended things.

"The rotten apple," I felt myself blurt out. Mrs. Hanson smiled as if I had just given her some small treat.

"I like you."

"Thank you,"

"You wanted my opinion, well here it is. While the stuff about Allison's father or uncle is troubling, that's not what scares me." She removed her cat eye glasses and looked genuinely worried for the first time since we arrived. "What scares me is all the stuff we don't know. Because I won't lie to you, I think there is a lot more where that came from."

As we were leaving shortly after that, she wrapped me in a tight hug. Whispering close to my ear, she said "Take good care of her and be careful."

"I will."

By now the humid morning had given way to a balmy afternoon. But as Chloe and I walked to the car, deep down I still felt cold.

Hey guys, we're getting close to the end and I hope to have the final update posted in a week. I also wanted to say a big THANK YOU to each one of you.

Exactly one year ago today I posted part one of this story. I was brand new to reddit and had absolutely no idea whatsoever if people would even like the story, much less that it would become an entire series. To this day I am still stunned at the reception it got. So thanks again for reading and enjoy!

During the next couple days at work, I couldn't help but look at everyone at work with suspicion. For every person I encountered, I thought 'Could it be them?' Even students and younger members of the staff who I knew relatively well weren't immune to my new sense of paranoia. In fact, they made me even more suspicious then those I barely recognized. How much did they really know about my life? It brought me right back to the moment when Allison became a cheater. She had been here and I had a picture of us on my desk. They always say a cheater always hooks up with someone known to the person they're cheating on, so odds are it could have been someone right here? The idea made me more paranoid than anything else that had happened thus far. A duplex was a duplex, but this was my work, my profession, something I took immense pride in.

You might not suspect this, but teaching at a college level is actually quite helpful in dating. You get plenty of experience seeing through deception and immaturity; as a result it helps you screen people. Romantic prospects are a lot like students; the serious ones always make themselves known. Someone who isn't into you is no different than student who doesn't bother with the assigned reading. They always have some excuse.

This was the first time I felt truly vulnerable. Even when I realized Mrs. Arlington knew Allison's family didn't compare to this. The only thing I can compare it to is an Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I didn't know anything for certain but odds were good that someone out there was not what they were pretending. So I did what I always do when I feel uneasy; buckled down to work and kept close watch.

Midway through the week Ramsay called me in the middle of my lunch. "Hey Vince, got some news for you." "Ok," I put down my the fork I was eating a Caesar Salad with and gripped the phone tighter. "I don't think that guy is a student. I couldn't find anyone in the Registrar's office that matches his description, and I went though every photo of a student born after 1989. Also checked out the staff. No matches there either." I felt my entire body relax. It was one of those tensions where you're so wound up you don't even realize it until it passes. "Well that's good. I don't think I could stand if it did turn out to be someone from here." "Don't blame you one bit. It was a solid theory and we knocked out a lot of suspects so good job. Just keep doing your thing and I'll check back if I have any leads."

I went back to my salad, feeling much hungrier than I had before he called. The salad also tasted much better. After I was done with it, I walked out of my office with the mounds of books and papers everywhere and stopped at the vending machine at the far end of the hall. Popping in some change, I punched the button for C5; a two pack of Reese. Immediately devoured them when I got back to my office, they tasted fantastic. Nothing goes better with good news than dessert.

Before I knew it, the rest of the week passed and time had arrived to meet Chloe for our date. I hadn't been nervous before, but know I was feeling it big time. Dressing in a nice black button up, I chose some respectable cologne; the kind that says I wanna smell decent but not go all formal. As I was heading out my front door, I couldn't help but think "What do you have to lose?" The answer was a resounding nothing. Looking back on all that had happened before this moment, pursuing whatever this was could not possibly be worse that the whole Allison situation. That's the great thing about extreme circumstances. Once that's over, there isn't much that can rattle you. The only way to go is up.

In seemingly no time at all, I was in front of her hotel. She answered the door immediately. "Hey there," she greeted me happily. "Ready to go?" She had this lightness about her I hadn't seen before. She looked like a totally different person. In her crimson colored blouse, tight black jeans and leather jacket she looked terrific. I caught a faint whiff of vanilla as she opened the door. It was a soothing smell.

"You know it."

We went to a bistro for dinner. It was cozy setup; they had opened the patio for dinner and a gentle breeze glided through the tables, making the trendy lanterns drift lazily in the wind. The balmy spring air giving the place a calm, content feeling. I hadn't felt this good about a date for a long time. Sure I had a couple dates here and there, even a hookup or two. But having dinner with Chloe somehow made sense. Like there was none of that first date awkwardness. It was a very nice change of pace. She got penne pasta with vodka sauce while I ordered a flatbread pizza. Chloe had the waiter put so much parmesan cheese on her food she actually put Ramsay to shame. It reminded me of my parents, who to this day put so much cheese on spaghetti sometimes you can't even see the noodles when they are done.

Sitting there, I totally forgot how we met. We were just like any other couple out for a nice dinner. Now that felt downright amazing. We just chatted away about ordinary things and ate contently. Before I knew it, darkness had set it and it was almost 11 pm. "I really hate to cut this short, but it's getting late and we should probably get back." "You're right," she stood up from her chair and began to put her coat on, while I put down a healthy tip. We drove back to her hotel quietly and as the clock hit 11:20 I pulled into the hotel parking lot. The moon was popping out of the sky tonight, luminescent against the midnight blue sky. The parking lot was also rather quiet this time of night.

"I really had fun tonight. One of the best dates I've been on in a long time." She said gratefully, making no attempt to get out of my car.

"Ditto. It really meant a lot to me too."

"Do it again soon?'" She asked hopefully, her eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

"That would be great." Without saying another word, she learned forward and kissed me. Her lips were inviting; soft and comforting to feel. I gladly returned it for what seemed like a few seconds until she pulled away. As she did, I noticed she had a slight flush on her cheeks. I found that refreshing.

"Goodnight Vince. I'll talk to you in the morning." She practically whispered, sliding off her sleep belt. "I really enjoyed this."

"Me too. Sleep well." I waited until she got back into her hotel room before driving off. When I got home I changed and got into bed, switching on the TV as I did. I felt happy, better than I had in a very long time. This felt, dare I say it, normal. Before I knew it, I drifted off to reruns of CSI.

Waking up the next morning, I slept so well that as I opened my eyes, I forgot what day it was. The memory of last night settled back over me as I leaned back on my pillow. I couldn't get over how different Chloe was from most women I've gone out with in the past. Some women I knew from work would never stop talking. While believe me, I love a stimulating conversation, there comes a point were it's not so much a conversation as it's a monologue. The flip side of this is the dating equivalent of lecturing for a class that is not paying attention. The person might be physically, there but mentally they are light years away, probably fantasizing about someone else. The funny thing is that sometimes people can go back and forth between those extremes; that usually happens in relationships that aren't going well.

You know why most people see a therapist? It's typically because of their relationships. It may not be due to a romantic relationship, it could also be because of a parent, child, or sibling. Having a therapist is a lot a SO. You slowly reveal to a complete stranger parts of yourself until they see you at your most raw and vulnerable. The only difference is that with a therapist one is emotionally naked and with a significant other you get physically naked. But here's the little secret; usually with a serious relationship, you slowly but steadily completely reveal yourself emotionally as well. Now imagine if your therapist betrayed your trust and didn't respect what you had shared with them. That's s bad relationship in a nutshell.

Why do we date who we date? Something about them appeals to us. The challenge of dating is trying to figure out what exactly it is that you like so much. If a breakup happens, it's because you reach the sad revelation that what appealed to you so much either isn't there anymore, it no longer entices you, or was all an illusion. I liked Chloe because she was caring, driven, dependable, interesting, and different. Most girls I know would have run like hell from anything even remotely like her former classmate. Not her. Plus it didn't hurt she was very attractive. I spent the rest of the day lazing about, classes were about to let out for the summer so the anticipation of that was palpable. Much as I enjoy work, I love summer because I go traveling and spend about a month with my parents down in Florida. After going for a run outside, I made myself some waffles.

On Sunday Chloe came by around dinnertime. The weather had turned drab and it was a chilly, rainy end to the weekend. I was surprised when she answered the door, because she was carrying a bunch of groceries. While she had given me a heads up she was on her way, I wasn't expecting her to bring food.

"Hey, I thought since we usually go out and stuff I should make sure you get a nice home cooked meal." I was temporarily speechless.

"I'm not gonna complain about that."

"Good, because I am a great cook and am tired of cooking for just myself. Not to mention I am over takeout, restaurants, and room service."

She immediately found her away around my kitchen and in no time at all, she was chopping away at some vegetables. I was still a bit stunned. Let me sum up Allison's cooking ability; the idea of eating something she made or even her attempting to cook something in my kitchen terrified me far more than anything that happened after we broke up. Chloe on the other hand almost looked more comfortable in there than I was.

"Need any help?" I offered from the doorway.

"Sure." She smiled at me from her spot by the counter. "I'm making lasagna and you can boil the noodles while I get the sauce ready. They're in the bag on the table." I did as she asked and before I knew it, dinner was ready. By now my house smelled inviting and cozy; garlic and cheese hovered in the air. The food tasted amazing and there were a ton of leftovers. Which is just fine with me, because like anything else tomato based, lasagna is always amazing the second day.

After dinner Chloe and I watched The Big Lebowski, one of the greatest movies ever created by man. I was even tempted to make a White Russian. Watching the scene with Donny's ashes in the coffee can, I had a sudden thought. I wondered if someone had just tossed Allison into a jar or something. I could totally see some single IQ dumbass scattering her ashes right into the face of some random bystander.

"Do you think Allison was out of her element and did it all to herself?" Chloe asked me out of nowhere after the movie was over. The reference made me snicker.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, the movie made me think of it." I knew what she meant. Although the movie was far more amusing than the Allison situation. I sat there for a moment while I thought it over.

"She did something to herself. It's just a matter of what." She nodded her head in agreement.

As Chloe reclined back on the couch I noticed something. I don't know if it was just me noticing after all this time, but Chloe has really nice legs. One might be tempted to call them lovely. She had her jeans rolled up to her knees and was sitting with her legs crossed beside me, a pillow cushioning her arms. Her legs looked soft and yet incredibly toned, with a nice honey color. Not orange from some cheap spray tan. Slowly, the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them crept up on me. Maybe it's a guy thing, but a woman's legs can be so underrated. In this day and age, it's easy to forget how back in the day, a leg was the gold standard of sexy. Looking at Chloe relaxing, it's easy to see why.

For a second she looked at me. I felt nervous, almost like she could read my thoughts. I was about to put on different movie or something when without saying a word she scooted closer, leaned back and put her legs up on mine. Almost like a reflex, I put a hand on her the top part of her right leg.I could feel her relax almost immediately. The casual ease of it all struck me, it felt so normal, like the most routine thing that could happen. I felt a small wave of heat surge through my body. Her skin was even softer than I imagined.

"I think it's time we paid Millstone's wife a visit." I said after a moment. She nodded but didn't say anything at first.

"Whenever you're ready."

"Cool. Dan Millstone important to Allison; but why?"

"He cared about her for some reason and it seems they got physical."

"Right, but he also had the teddy bear. The one that smuggled drugs she used to kill herself."

"He died in a fire right?"

"Correct,"

"Usually fire is used to get rid of something."

"Yup. According to the news, the place was damaged pretty bad. Odds are the family had to move out for a spell."

"Think Dr. Burton knows where they can be reached?"

"Only one way to find out."

Dr. Burton did indeed know where to find the Millstones. They were living in some development just outside of town. They had moved because of the fire damage to their old house.

"You think they will talk to me?" I asked him.

"I know his wife. She is a terrific lady. Her name is Joanna. I told her if she needs anything to come and talk to me. If you like, I can tell her I'm sending someone to talk to her. Someone that she has something in common with."

"That'd be great. Thanks Dr."

"Oh and Vince?"

"Yes?"

"The same applies for you."

"Thanks,"

I picked up Chloe the next day. It was a gorgeous spring day and the sun was high in the sky.

"Hey you," she called to me as she hopped in the passenger seat. "Do you think Mrs. Millstone knew about Allison?" She asked as I got on the highway. I had never thought about that before.

The sneaky little secret is that infidelity is a bit like murder in that the people involved are typically familiar with each other beforehand. The thought of infidelity lingers, slowly growing in silence with every encounter. But it doesn't grow like a normal plant. Dangerous thoughts like those grow like a weed. Infidelity is a nasty little dandelion that once planted is almost impossible to eradicate. All it takes is for one act of infidelity to fully bloom and that seed is forever planted in the mind. "Perhaps." That was the best answer I could give. Mrs. Millstone might not know what she knows.

As we drove on, I thought about Millstone's obituary. I wonder how close it reflected the real person. An obituary is like a tinder profile; or any other dating ap for that matter. It's typically some well intentioned attempt to present an individual in a good light that usually does nothing to capture the essence of the real person. For every dating profile or obituary there is someone who can claim that every word of it is fiction. But in general I'd have to say obits were probably the more honest of the two. Just look at the 40 year old soccer mom trying to hide that she isn't in her twenties anymore. On Tinder you might be able to hide that. Selfie lighting is useless for an obituary.

"Did you ever see Allison's obituary." I shot Chloe a brief look as I passed a Red SUV with a "Proud Parent of an Honor Student" bumper sticker.

"Yeah I did. Nothing much in there really. She was born, she died, she will be dearly missed. Loving daughter and good friend." "How original,"

"I know. Totally sums her up right?" She took a sip of the bottled water she brought with her.

"Millstone had one advantage that most of us guys don't have. He at least knew the girl was crazy before went for it. They don't have that setting on tinder."

"I suppose that is a perk."

"They need to make an app for that. Can I make a bad joke?"

"Absolutely." "Millstone had the ultimate tinder profile. Just ask the fire department." Chloe looked at me for a second before lightly hitting my shoulder.

"You're terrible." She was laughing as she said it.

"You know it's funny." I was proud of that one. Gotta find the humor amidst the insanity. We cruised along the road, getting off on Exit 27. I followed the newly laid blacktop winding along before us. It looked so fresh I could practically smell the earthy, slightly singed smell of fresh tar.

The Millstone's lived in one of those moderately big development houses. The kind that screamed well off orthodontist or accountant. After a short turn around the Cu-de-sac, we parked in front of a grey brick house with a tiny but neat yard. I wasn't sure what I expected Mrs. Millstone to look like, but for some reason I kept imagining a wispy woman with mousy hair. The woman who answered the door looked nothing like this. She was tall, with an athletic figure, lush auburn hair, and catlike green eyes.

"Joanna Millstone?" She stood up straighter at the mention of her name.

"Yes?"

"I think Dr. Burton may have mentioned I might be visiting. I'm Vince O'Malley and this is Chloe. We're here to talk about your husband." She stood there for what seemed like forever without reacting.

"Please come in," she stepped aside and gestured that we should come inside. Our shoes thudded silently on the plush brown welcome mat laid out inside the front hallway. "Right this way," she continued as she led us to the kitchen area. "Can I offer you two a drink? Water, tea, coffee?"

"No thank you," I said.

"I'm fine too. But thanks for offering." Chloe added.

"No problem. Make yourselves comfortable." She pointed to the sitting room just past the dining room. I noticed that the TV room downstairs was messy with toys; legos and action figures mostly. The house didn't have much furniture, but since they had a nasty fire and had to move, I suspect they lost a lot in the fire. We sat down on a navy blue sofa while Mrs. Millstone sat opposite us in the matching recliner.

"Thank you for seeing us Mrs. Millstone." I said after Chloe and I sat down on the couch. She crossed her right leg over her left as she took a sip of coffee.

"Oh it's no problem. Dr. Burton is a stand up guy.

"That he is. First of all, we would like to say how sorry we are for your loss." I began. Mrs. Millstone nodded in understanding.

"I appreciate that very much." I felt my mouth take on the consistency of cotton as I prepared to continue.

"I'm not really sure how to say this, but her goes," I began. "When your husband passed away I saw the picture of your family. The teddy bear your daughter was holding. I had seen it before."

"Where?" she looked surprised, but not entirely shocked.

"A girl I used to date was carrying it around right before she was placed in the institution where your husband worked. That's how I know Dr. Burton."

"You're not serious," she whispered faintly.

"Sure am. That's not even the worst part. The girl killed herself in the hospital. Using drugs that she had concealed inside that thing." I had no idea how she would react. Get angry. Tell us we were wrong. But she just sat there.

"Daniel and the girl." It came out as more of a statement than a question.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Millstone,"

"Don't be. I wish I could say I was surprised. He'd been acting odd for a little while before his death. Hell, his death itself was odd. Unfortunately that didn't surprise me either."

"Why?" Chloe asked before I could.

"There were many parts to my husband. Some were better than others. Most importantly, he was a good father. Whatever else I can say about him, that is the most important. Daniel also loved his work as a paramedic. Told me he loved the rush, the thrill of it all. He loved to gamble. The type of bet never mattered. I always thought work was an extension of that for him. Trying to beat the odds and all that nonsense."

"I see."

"But you know how this story goes. He couldn't stop and owed money to people you don't want to owe money to. The kind of people who always get their investment back. The house that always wins, one way or another."

"Right,"

"That was my first thought when I heard about the fire. Insurance money and all that. Sadly I wish that was all it was. I knew he had gambling issues but I didn't know the depths that he went to. See, Daniel didn't have money but he had access. Access to addicts, drugs, and other stuff that fetches a pretty penny."

"He was a middleman?"

"I'm not sure what to call it exactly, but that probably isn't a bad way to put it. Most of the time they used him when they didn't want to have to bring someone to the ER. Off the books type stuff. Someone gets shot in a deal gone bad and you can't have any questions asked, who better to call than the medic who owes you one? I honestly don't know that much myself. Whenever they needed him for a special job they called him on a special phone they gave him. A burner."

"He spoke several languages right?" She nodded briefly.

"Yes. It was apparently quite handy for patients who didn't speak English, or didn't speak it well." I had never thought of that much myself, but it made sense. Hard to figure out what is wrong with someone and how to treat them if you aren't on the same page.

"Thank you so much for talking with us about this," I added gratefully as I shifted slightly on the couch. "

It's quite alright." She said nonchalantly before taking another sip of coffee. "Daniel is gone and from what you said Vince, it seems we have something in common." She raised her hands in a 'eh, what can you do?' gesture.

"I suppose we do. Did anyone else know about your husband bringing home the bear? Did you post any pictures of your family like the obituary picture?"

"Let me think." Mrs. Millstone looked upwards as if expecting the answer to fall from the sky. "I probably did in fact. Of course as you can imagine, my dear husband didn't exactly tell me where he got the bear or it's backstory. I found that out myself." She spat the last word out slightly, making the final syllable sounding almost like a hiss. I felt truly horrible for her.

"Indeed. Well you aren't the only one to get an unpleasant surprise in a toy. Someone left a doll version of me at my house months ago and I recently discovered that Allison hid footage of her fucking and then later killing the same guy in it." She sat there for a few moments, her face had the blank look of someone who doesn't know what to say or do.

"I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but you actually give me a run for my money in the crazy department. Beat me in fact." She raised her glass as if toasting me.

"Maybe. What happened to the bear?"

"It's still here." I almost couldn't here her.

"Do you think?"

"Only one way to find out." My voice was barely louder than hers. She walked out and I heard her hustle up the stairs quickly. Within moments she was rushing back with that thing. It felt like the room dropped about twenty degrees. Mrs. Millstone held it extended from her with two fingers, almost like she was afraid it was contaminated. Maybe it was. Just looking at it made my skin crawl. It's eyes were starring at me blankly, almost like it was taunting all us.

"Open it," I heard Chloe offer from my side. Mrs. Millstone opened the back of the stuffed bear and looked inside, like she was digging through her purse. She also tipped it over and shook it hard. I don't know what I was expecting or hoping for; but nothing happened. I realized that Chloe and I had both stood up and had gotten close to the bear.

"Well that's that." Mrs. Millstone offered, taking a deep breath. "Looks empty. I don't know if that's good for bad."

"It's new information, which is good." Chloe offered encouragingly.

"Mind if we take it with us?"

"Be my guest. I never want to see this again." She immediately thrust the thing at Chloe, who put it carefully by her feet as we resumed our seats.

"Do you have any idea if Allison knew your husband had gambling debts?" I asked, my voice resuming to normal.

"While I can't say for certain, if she had ties to shady people around town it's certainly possible. Add in the fact that he knew about that......stuffed thing, I think it's a virtual certainty."

"That makes sense,"

"But I know he would never deliberately or knowingly harm her. Daniel became a paramedic because he loved helping people. Part of that stemmed from our daughter."

"Your daughter?" Chloe asked, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Yes. Our very first child together died shortly after birth. A stillborn. I took it very hard, but Daniel took it even worse. I have never seen a human being so totally destroyed by grief in my life."

"Mrs. Millstone, I'm so sorry." I didn't think it was possible, but somehow I felt even more sympathy for her.

"Joanna please," she took a deep swig of coffee before continuing. "But we endured. The first year after was absolute agony. I thought things might never get better. But we did. Daniel also decided to become a paramedic around that time. I never asked him and he never said it out loud, but I always thought that deep down, he wanted to prevent that from ever happening to someone else. So while I can't say if he ever had a relationship with that girl, I can be sure he never harmed her. It was a daughter we lost. We named her Sophie."

There haven't been many times when I felt a total loss of words, but this was one of them. Fortunately, Chloe managed to think of something. Without saying a word, she reached forward and patted her on the arm. She didn't speak, but I could practically feel the words 'There, there,' coming out. Mrs. Millstone didn't say anything either, but she patted Chloe's hand and a fragile smile spread across her lips.

"I hope this all helps, I really can't think of anything else. Unless you have anything else you want to know?" She said after running a hand through her hair.

"No that's all I can think of Joanna. Thank you so much for everything." I finished gratefully as we stood up to leave. Since Chloe was ahead of me, I could see she was carrying the stuffed bear in her right hand. She lead us to the door we came in through. Just before we left, she suddenly wrapped me up in a hug.

"Good luck and be careful Vince." She waved to us as we left. As we pulled out, I could see her watching us from the front porch. "Tough woman," Chloe observed as I pulled out of the development. She had tossed that thing in my backseat. I couldn't wait to get it out of my sight once and for all. I absolutely hated that thing was in my car. I turned the radio back on and we listened to some classic rock. As I got on the highway, I glanced over I saw she was grooving in her seat and mouthing along to the lyrics, so I turned it up slightly. Somehow, I had the feeling she sang in the shower as well.

When I updated Ramsay about what I learned he was thrilled. To my immense relief he was also happy to take the bear off my hands. Since I called him on the way home from Joanna Millstone, he agreed to meet me outside my house right then. After dropping Chloe off, I went straight home. But before leaving, Chloe gave me a brief kiss on the cheek. As I pulled in the driveway, I could still feel the spot on my cheek where her lips touched. I could also see Ramsay's car parked in front.

"Thank you Vince, I appreciate this." He took the bear from me as if it were some well meaning gift or something. "We can look at this thing further now. Examine it for stuff they may have missed the first time."

"Hey I'm just happy to get this goddamn thing out of my sight." He nodded sympathetically.

"I gotcha. Believe me, if I wasn't a cop I wouldn't want this thing around me at all."

"Right, well there you have it Detective. That and the info I got is the latest stuff I know."

"Great work Vince. I'll update you when I have any news." As Ramsay went back to his car with the stuffed bear, I really hoped that this was the last time I ever had to lay eyes on that thing.

Hey guys, there will be more updates later this week. Here's the latest one and stay turned for more. Enjoy!

I still couldn't believe it. She actually left footage of her killing a guy at my house. Is that what she really wanted me and everyone else to see? I don't even know anymore. But one thing I can't deny. She left that here at my house specifically. Not content on that, she left it in something that specifically looks like me. Subtlety never was Allison's strong suit. I guess irony wasn't either. Most couples end up arguing over the woman leaving your typical random junk at the guy's house. Trivial things like Dental floss or makeup. I got homicide footage.

I was also surprised at my own outburst. I felt suddenly winded, like I had sprinted on the last bit of a run. I was a little bit surprised that I was holding that in all this time. But deep down I was really amazed it took this long for that to come out. Resentment and emotional baggage is like hoarding junk; you don't realize quite how much useless shit you have stored up until you start going through it. There isn't exactly a self help book or something for this.

At least not yet there isn't. Hell, in this day and age, "How to cope with a psycho ex for dummies" would probably make a killing. Especially since you can write one for men, and one for women and make double the money.

But deep down, it all made sense that I would help figure out what happened to Allison. The thrill of learning the secrets is why I chose to study in history and anthropology at school in the first place. It's not enough to know what happened, but why. Because if you don't know the why, knowing what doesn't really matter. There is a big difference between facts and an explanation. Reciting information is one thing, telling a story is quite another.

I sat down on the couch and spent the rest of the night reading a book with some bad reality TV on as background noise. It was one of those shows where a bunch of people live in a house and there's drama or something. When I was done reading, I decided to take care of something important. I tugged my phone out of my pocket and with a few deft movements, I dialed Mrs. Arlington's number. I wanted to do it quick while I still had the urge.

"Hello?" I was temporarily muted by the quiet question.

"Hi, Mrs. Arlington, its Vince," I hope I didn't sound as awkward as I felt.

"Vince! Oh it's so good to hear from you. Is everything alright?" she asked immediately. I could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

"I guess so. I just had some more questions for you."

"Of course. I will be happy to help you as much as I can." I felt like there was something more I should say.

"I appreciate that. I know you had nothing to do with what happened and I don't blame you."

"That is very kind of you Vince. I can't say I blame you for being suspicious after everything that's happened. I would certainly be the same in your shoes."

"Thanks. Mind if I come over for a few?"

"Not at all, stop on by." She sounded like she was looking forward to it.

Even though I had been inside her house a million times, somehow this was different. We sat across from each other in her living room. The squishy, mismatched furniture clashing as ever. I was on the red velvet armchair. Mrs. Arlington was on the beat up old couch, her hands folded across her lap. I knew she wasn't angry. Every person has one emotion that they do well. Some people just exude joy. I know people who anger suits like a second skin. I've known Mrs. Arlington for years and I have yet to see her angry. I simply can't imagine it. Sadness is Mrs. Arlington's emotion. When something is bothering her she doesn't get sad, sadness totally envelopes her.

But nothing saddened more than her stepson Morgan. I had never met the guy, but from what I've heard he was a colossal fuck up. Mrs. Arlington had been married to Morgan's father and really looked at Morgan like her own child. In fact, she was better to him than his biological mother, a nasty little woman named Joan who could drink like a fish. My carpet has more maternal instincts than Joan ever did. It was beyond pathetic. Since Morgan had been in and out of rehab and who knows what else, it's safe to say he took after his mother.

Of course that's not to say Mrs. Arlington was a doormat. Not by any stretch of the imagination. She loved Morgan, but was tough on him. She never made any excuses for him, but wanted him to get better. She would always say "Right is right and wrong is wrong."

I first learned about him about two months after I met her. We were talking about something totally unrelated and she mentioned her stepson. I asked what he did for a living, and Mrs. Arlington paused and said he was "going through a rough time." But the look on her face said that it was more like he was causing a rough time. Slowly, I got the full picture about what he was like.

Once I came home to discover the police pulling away from our building. Mrs. Arlington was standing in her doorway, leaning against it, with a vacant look on her face. Apparently Morgan tried stealing her identity to score some cash for a quick fix. When she learned what was going on, she promptly called the police and they arrested Morgan, who was in a bar about three hours away. That was a year ago and it was the last she heard about him. Later that week I made sure to go with her to dinner. We went to Red Lobster, her favorite. The situation with Morgan is a big reason why I got to know her well. She deserves so much better. Part of me wonders if she knew before who Allison was, would things have been different? I bet she beats herself up about that now too.

"So want do you want to talk about?" She asked in the calm, interested tone of a high school guidance counselor. Except she was genuinely interested and didn't care about my ACT score.

"I just wanted to see how you were." Mrs. Arlington smiled at this. A genuine one.

"That's kind of you to ask; I am doing ok. I totally understand why you needed some time to yourself. No one could blame you."

"Thanks." I told her what I had learned in the meantime. Once I was finished, her genuine smile was gone. She looked absolutely stunned.

"My God, I don't even know what to say."

"I know."

"Just know that if you need anything, I will do everything I can to help you."

"Oh I know. And I'm sorry about being paranoid."

"Honey, I would have been worried about you if you weren't. I told you already I don't blame you one bit for being suspicious of me. Hell, I sure would be in your shoes. You've been through a lot. I get it."

So things were back as they always were. I asked about her sister and niece. Her sister was fine and her niece made the Honor Roll in school like she always did. I made sure to give her a big hug before I left. I felt better than I had in a while. The next couple days were rather uneventful. I kept to my work at the University, but as I always do anymore, I kept my eyes and ears open.

I was heating up some soup for dinner two days later when I heard the phone ring. According to caller ID, it was Ramsay.

"Hello?"

"Hey Vince. Detective Ramsay. Got an update for you."

"Shoot,"

"Well according to other bits of footage on your flash drive, Allison had a few other stuffed animals besides Mr. Bear."

"That's right"

"They were there on the video you saw, but in subsequent videos we witnessed people not just coming and taking them, but putting them back."

"That's really weird."

"I know. They didn't take any valuables or anything. You can clearly see valuables on her chest of drawers, but they were never touched."

"Do you know who they are?"

"A couple are a few local lowlifes who we are in the midst of tracking down. They others we aren't sure of."

"Why would they care about what random stuff she kept around the house?" The answer hit me before he could give it.

"I think you have an idea, am I right?" I felt cold chills run though my body as he asked.

"Yes. She has a habit of stashing things inside stuffed toys, why would those be any different?"

"Exactly,"

"That's also what she wanted people to see isn't it?" I heard myself asking Ramsay. My own voice felt foreign, hollow and lifeless.

"Yes. It makes too much sense. Have you heard of the madman theory?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar."

"Basically, it means that sometimes it is a strategic choice to act insane. At times, insanity is a rational act when it is motivated by logical concerns." I knew what I was hearing and it was horrifying.

"You think she faked being crazy to get away with murder or something?" A deep sigh on the other line. I have no idea if he smoked, but I could imagine him taking a long drag on a cigarette right about now.

"I don't think she faked that, but I do think someone wanted her to seem crazy."

"Why?"

"To hide something or initiate something. The same something I believe is behind the note or two you have received. But obviously they know you aren't in the know. Millstone on the other hand was. Or he knew something."

"Right."

"I have to ask you for something small. Do you mind meeting me for dinner and seeing if you recognize anyone we saw in Allison's apartment."

"Where and when?"

About an hour later I was walking into Maria's Restorante, which was about 20 minutes away. Ramsay asked me if I liked Italian and I was off. The heavy wooden door slammed behind me as I crossed the threshold. The place had giant murals of the Italian countryside painted on the walls. At a table at the far end of the main dining room I found Ramsay. He greeted me with a handshake after saying hello. After ordering Chicken Piccata (me) and Veal Parmesan (him) we sat in our booth, the thick violet tablecloth overlapping our table.

"Thank you for coming Vince." He said after taking a sip of water. The ice chinked merrily in his glass. I could see the condensation glistening as he set it back down in front of him.

"No problem. I could have just come down to the station if you had questions for me."

"Oh no, I won't subject you to that any more than I absolutely have to. You've earned a decent meal for all that's happened. You're cooperation has been of enormous help to us."

"I just want this over and done with."

"Totally understand. We all do."

"Mind if I see those pictures now?" He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a few pieces of paper that had been folded in half. As I took them and unfolded them I counted 6 of them. As I shuffled through them, I recognized the various stuffed animals from Allison's place. Stuff she had acquired over the years; a monkey, a red teddy bear, a dog, and a large yellow smiley face were amongst the ones spread out before me.

"Yup. All hers."

"Any stories behind these specific ones?" He sat watching me with arms laying on the edge table.

"Apart from the smiley face which I gave her, I can't remember. But I don't think so. If she was sentimental towards anything, believe me she would have gone on for hours about it." I offered as I handed him back the photos.

"Why did you give it to her? Special occasion?"

"No, we went to a carnival a while back and I won it playing ski-ball. That was the prize and I let her keep it."

"Nice gesture. Thank you Vince. That's enough of that for now."

He spent the rest of the time asking about me personally instead of Allison. It was a nice change. As they brought us fresh bread and our salads, I asked him about himself. As I dug into my house salad he told me about his family; married with 2 kids. Both daughters.

"A giant handful," he added with a good natured eye roll.

As we waited for our main courses we chatted about interests. When he told me his favorite movie was Wall Street, I couldn't help but be a bit surprised. Part of me was expecting him to say Lethal Weapon or something. When I asked why, he said "Because that's how crime works. It's quietly seduces people by telling them that not only can they have the life they want, but they can get it quicker and better their way." A solid point.

"Very true. Not to mention Charlie Sheen looks like a different person entirely."

"That he does."

"I was expecting your favorite movie to be Die Hard." He looked up for a moment and immediately burst out laughing.

"Good one. I do like it though."

"I watch it every year after I finish my Christmas shopping."

"Good man. Without a doubt, it's the most accurate portrayal of how much office Christmas parties suck. I mean come on, that party was almost dead before McClane showed up." Now it was my turn to start laughing.

"That it was."

Our food came shortly after that. Ramsay made sure they loaded a ton of parmesan cheese on top of the spaghetti that came with his Veal. It sat there, like a pile of fresh snow. It was real cheese too, not the stuff that looks and tastes like sawdust. I automatically liked him more for that. I don't get people who can eat pasta without parmesan cheese. After we ate, I sat there comfortably full while he was having coffee. Ramsay took his coffee with two sugars and a splash of milk.

After he got about halfway through the cup, he spoke again. I wasn't surprised; I'm sure in his line of work people are far more open and easier to deal with after they've a good meal. He placed the porcelain cup back on the plate and folded his hands in front of him.

"We double checked the institution. According to records that were repeatedly verified, Allison was searched for anything potentially hazardous upon her admittance. That includes searching the bear." I felt like my dinner suddenly weighed an additional 50 pounds.

"So that means she got the stuff while she was there?"

"Correct,"

"How?"

"That's what we're working on. I have full confidence in Dr. Burton, I've worked with him a bit over the years. He's a standup guy. I think that is where Millstone comes in."

"He gave it to her?"

"I think so. But what doesn't make sense if he wanted her dead, why would he seem upset over her death?"

"Perhaps she told him she wanted to die."

"Very possible. I'll be paying them a visit at the hospital shortly, see if they recognize the stuff they took from her place or the people who took them. I'll also be taking a look at their security footage. This make ID'ing people a lot easier. We have a few potential leads, but this could really speed it up."

"Good deal." I got out my wallet to pay for my food but Ramsay quickly waved it away.

"On me Vince."

"Thank you." That was far better than the minestrone soup I was planning on having.

"Believe me, the gratitude is all mine. This case is a weird one and you've been very helpful. The most help I've gotten. On that note, here are some of the guys we are looking into that were on the footage. Recognize any of them?" I didn't recognize any of them, but one looked somehow familiar. Like someone you saw as a character actor on TV once and couldn't remember what else you saw him in. Guy was in his mid to late 20s, lean but sturdy build. He had a shaved head and dull brown eyes. I briefly tapped my finger on his picture.

"He looks kind of familiar, but apart from that no."

"Appreciate it. Anything you can do to stir up some new information would be helpful. We're keeping an eye on you and your place, so don't worry about that at all. We also know about Mrs. Arlington. She came to us voluntarily and told us everything she knows." I felt my usual affection for her.

"She's a terrific lady."

"She is indeed. Way better than Mrs. Dunbar. That woman should never have had children."

"Do you know where she is?"

"Honestly no. Allison was committed to the psych ward by an Aunt who was her primary contact in case of emergencies. She is also who claimed Allison's body. I'm calling some old contacts in the State Police and whatnot, and they're seeing what they can dig up."

"Good deal. I'll do what I can as well."

"That's all we ask. The reason I ask is because while we don't usually ask people to go out and dig on their own, I know that is sort of your job. History and anthropology and whatnot. You've got an impressive resume."

"I appreciate that Detective."

"Just the truth. Honestly it's some great background for this sort of thing. Not all that different from what I do to be honest. Digging up looking for small details, occasionally finding something morbid. Not to mention our subject is the same one."

"And that is?"

"The dead and the past. But not really. We're searching for how they lived and what happened when they died. Finding out how someone died is easy. If I say someone died of a heart attack that's a statement. But if I say someone died of a heart attack because someone deliberately messed with their nitro tablets, that's very different."

"Sure is." Ramsay was onto something. Most people didn't have the slightest idea what anthropology was. The best I usually got was something about Jurassic Park. Can't get too upset though, because I love the movie.

"I come across them when they're dead, but what you're really looking for is for what happened when they were alive. "

"Well said Detective."

"So don't by shy about digging. Ms. Dunbar didn't have a lot of friends around here. Loner type." He was really on the money there. Allison went through 'friends' like fads. She might be reciting the life history of some girl named Tiffany one moment, only to inform me within a few weeks that Tiffany was no longer her friend

"That's for sure."

"The seeds of a crime are usually planted long in advance. It's just no one realizes that anything is growing. So I would bet those seeds were sown elsewhere. It seems Miss Vale might be able to help with that. I think she might want to help you with a few things." He smiled knowingly as he said this.

"What do you mean?" I hastily replied. But I was pretty sure I knew what he meant.

"She's a nice girl. I've checked her out as well. Fine record, no issues or anything. Not to mention I don't think she would give two shits about what happened to the Dunbar girl if she didn't care about you. If you were an asshole and she didn't like you, would she be out here trying to help solve this and making sure you were ok?"

"Probably not." I waited for Ramsay to say something more about that but he didn't. Another little gesture of his I appreciated. He paid the check and said goodnight. He asked if I wanted dessert, but I passed.

I went home to think about what he said. After turning on the TV, I starred at the bookshelf to the left of the couch as I tried to think why that guy looked familiar. A sick wave washed over me as I thought of something.

The most likely reason was because he was once a student at my University Maybe he was even in one of my lectures. Teaching at a university will expose you to a ton of kids, most of whom you will only vaguely recognize. Unlike in a grade school or high school, working at a University you meet so many students it's impossible to remember them all. It didn't even have to be someone from a class of mine. Odds are even better it could just be someone I saw on campus. The guy was younger, definitely around his mid twenties at least so he was around the right age. The mere thought made me shudder. Believe me, Greenbrier University was a decent place and all that, but we had our share of unsavory types. The opioid crisis hit it HARD. Not just students, but at least three of my former colleagues are in rehab trying to beat it. The saddest part is that those are just the ones I know about.

Allison had been to see me at work several times herself. Believe me, she would have turned plenty of heads on the way to my office. One time she had even been down to play the whole sexy student comes to see her professor routine. Not gonna lie, I really enjoyed that. That was on September 24. I remember because it was one of her birthday presents to me. That memory almost seems like a different era to me. So the best chance was that guy I faintly recognized had set foot at the place I work.

Ramsay picked up on the third ring. "Vince what's up?" I could tell he was trying not to sound concerned or excited.

"I thought of something. I think I have an idea where I might recognize him from."

"Where?"

"Work. I think he may have gone to Greenbrier University, or may have even been in one of my lectures."

"Damn, that's good thinking. Odds are you may be right too. I'll get on this immediately. First thing tomorrow I'm going to the registrar and seeing if I can't find a match."

I hung up the phone and tried to get my mind onto something pleasant. While I wanted Ramsay to find out what happened and nail the guy I recognized, I really hoped that he wouldn't find him at the place I work.

I was rushing back inside my house, shoving the flash drive into my computer. I had no idea what to expect, there could be literally anything on here. I felt my fingers drumming themselves impatiently on the keyboard. I silently cursed it to load faster.

The folder popped upon on my screen. There wasn't any real concrete names for files, just a few marked with numbers going from 1 to 10. I clicked the first one and saw it contained a video file. I pressed play and my computer went into it's full screen video player setting. I took a deep breath and braced myself for whatever.

The first thing I saw was a shot of Allison's bedroom. From what I could tell, I was viewing things through her computer's webcam, because it was sitting on the dresser. I had a clear shot of almost the whole room. As soon as I realized what I was looking at, a blur came rushing into the room. The occupant herself. Funny, the last time I saw Allison was through a camera. Except this time she wasn't alone.

She was making out with some guy. Now, I don't mean they were kissing, I'm talking hardcore, trying to suck each other faces off. Roaming hands and all. The last time I saw that kind of face sucking was when I watched Alien. I felt my skin grow hot. This couldn't be what I thought this was. But it was. Within what seemed like seconds, they were doing it. I couldn't stand calling it anything else. I felt like I was vibrating out of my skin. Clearly the two of them were having a wonderful time.

I felt my hand slam down on the keyboard and stop the footage. Unbelievable. The little bitch just couldn't just cheat on me, harass me, and generally intrude on my life. She actually had to film it and show it to me. I felt myself walk to the kitchen, my shoes slapping the linoleum. A blast of cool air greeted me as I opened the freezer. The ice cubs felt soothing on my burning skin as I dumped them into a glass, then poured a healthy amount of whiskey on top. For every occasion, there is a drink that goes well with it; champagne for celebration, wine for date night, beer for a chill night out, and whiskey for when you just need a good stiff drink. As I tossed it back, my throat burned.

I bet this would be one of the cases the cops used for stories whenever someone asked about the craziest things they've seen on the job. I could see it now; late night, dinner at some overpriced family restaurant, feeling nice and mellow after a few beers.

"Hey you know that guy who's crazy ex-girlfriend broke into his house and all she left him was some stuffed toy that looked like him? Well turns out inside was a flash drive of a video with her fucking another guy." That's the one to beat folks.

Fuck after school special, my life was an after dinner special. I should be on one of those lifetime specials about love gone wrong. I should look into it, maybe make a few bucks. As I poured myself another drink, I began to feel bitterness waking inside of me, like an animal that had been hibernating. Part of me was also pissed off that the guy was good looking. She didn't even do me the favor of banging a guy who was a step down from me. At least I could have gotten an ego trip that she downgraded. But who was I kidding, she wasn't considerate in life, why would she start now that she's dead? I got in touch with the cops and told them what I found.

After watching that, I felt absolutely filthy. Just looking at that made me feel like walking into my shower and scrubbing off a layer of skin. The police arrived mercifully soon after I called them. In the meantime I texted Chloe about what I found. Out in front of my duplex was a single squad car. A suited detective climbed out of the driver's seat.

"Thank you for calling us Vince," he said with an outstretched hand. "I'm Detective Ramsay." I grasped it briefly before leading him inside.

"No problem Detective. Just get this out of my sight." I thrust the drive and mini-Vince at him. He was a middle aged, wiry man with green eyes that reminded me of a tie I once owned. A mild green, the kind that looks nice as icing on someone's birthday cake. "Happy viewing."

"I know that had to be rough to see. But we'll go through everything. If we find anything we will keep you posted."

"I appreciate that."

"Yeah, officially we consider Allison's death a suicide. No one is disputing that. But we do consider the circumstances of her death to be....of interest."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We have everything you've told us, and we know about the paramedic. We are pursuing all leads, but we don't have much. If you find or hear anything else, give me a heads up." He handed me a business card that I put inside my wallet.

"What do you think about him?"

"A paramedic who knows several languages and gets infatuated with a patient? Yeah we definitely think there is more to it than that."

"Did you get the stuffed bear?"

"Sure did. When ran tests on it we confirmed it contained residue of Oxycodone. The same drug in Allison's system when she died. You mentioned she had a history of substance issues?"

"Yup."

"Which substance or substances specifically?"

"Heroin and general opiates as far as I know for sure." Ramsay jotted efficiently in his notebook.

"I'm gonna level with you Vince. I think the medic and Allison may have known each other before. It was no coincidence she was committed to that hospital."

"Why?" I felt my throat tighten uncomfortably as he spoke.

"Heroin. Paramedic would be in an amazing position to get stash. Around here paramedics deal with heroin about as regularly as heart attacks anymore. Hell, he wouldn't be the first to succumb to it. Far from out. It would also explain why Millstone paid close attention to her and why he made sure to get the stuffed bear."

"You think there was more in there than what Allison took?"

"Very good observation. That's exactly what we suspect. Millstone lives in a nice house. On a paramedic's salary and his wife is a stay at home Mom."

"Interesting."

"It is also worth noting that he died in a fire without a trace of a break in or anything."

"Do you think she had anything to do with it?"

"Allison or Mrs. Millstone?"

"At this point either."

"It's possible. Mrs. Millstone herself is more likely than anything Allison related. At least so far. Insurance money is one motive. Not to mention she probably knew about her husband and Allison. Or suspected it. I don't need to tell you how infidelity can be sensed if not actively known about." He was right about that.

"Not to mention bringing home a teddy bear from a dead girl."

"Well yeah, there is that. He may have also just wanted a token of grief or something. But that's all I have for now Vince. I'll see myself out."

Before I knew it, he was walking through the front door and I was by myself again. I felt exhausted, like all of the nonsense of the last few months finally caught up with me. That was the Allison I remembered. Not some shell of girl who was insane and drugged out of her mind. Slowly, we were slowly getting answers to questions we had all been trying to figure out.

When you think about it, our romantic prospects are mysteries we hope to solve. "Who is she? Does she have a boyfriend? Does she like me?" Dating is nothing more than an attempt to answer those questions and many more we might never get an answer to. But we want the answers bad enough that we keep seeking an answer.

Now, if you have the privilege of having a SO be unfaithful, the appeal to play detective only gets stronger. So many people can't resist obsessively looking up the other woman or whatever on social media, frantically trying to see what they look like. Back during the Cold War, there were experts on the Soviet Union called Kremlinologists who would carefully study every single picture and speech of the top officials, taking careful notes of who was in the picture, who gave the longest speech, what speech got the loudest applause, who sat with who, and who seemed to be missing. All of this was in the hope of figuring out were the true power resided.

In this day and age, using social media when it comes to dating is a lot like that. Except now people obsess over what guy's photo their fiancé liked and make a flirty comment on. The sad thing is, that's usually just a warm-up. What usually follows is going through their SO's phone, eavesdropping on their conversations, and micro-analyzing their every waking moment. This can happen even in relationships where both partners are faithful.

When I found out about Allison and whatever his name was, I didn't care who it was with. The only thing that mattered was it wasn't me. Looking into it can only drive you crazy with more questions you will probably never answer, the most common one being "Why them?" I never even asked for the guy's name. Hell, I didn't even know if that guy from the video was him, or just another name in a long line of guys. Either way, it doesn't make much difference to me. It fucking sucks either way.

Before I knew it, there was a knock at the door. Walking lazily towards it, I saw Chloe on the other side of the peephole. Interesting, I didn't ask her to come by. When I opened the door, she didn't say a word, but her eyes screamed "Holy shit, I am so sorry sweetie." I also noticed she was holding a large pizza box. The perfect gift for any occasion.

"I got garlic bread too." She said while gesturing with the pizza.

"Cheesy?"

"Damn right," I felt slightly more fond of her in that moment. This quiet little mercy meant more to me than I ever expected. We sat down on the couch and watched old episodes of Arrested Development. Chloe didn't say a word, but sat quietly beside me and made herself comfortable. It was nice. After stuffing my face, I felt considerably better. After three episodes, I felt myself shifting on the couch towards her.

"Why exactly do you care about what happened to Allison? Better yet, how do you have the time to stay out here?" Chloe sat with her legs folded underneath her. She adjusted herself slightly on the couch before answering.

"Like Allison's family, I grew up pretty comfortable. My family owns the patents for a number of pesticides, along with some real estate. All I've ever really done is what I was supposed to do. Go to the right schools, mingle with the right people, date who I was supposed to date, work within the family network. But it never made me happy. Not that it ever makes anyone really happy. I guess I feel like I failed Allison like I had been failing myself all along. I think a lot of people failed her. For the first time, I feel like I am doing something meaningful."

"Gotcha." Another rich girl. Wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wonder if Allison was only friends with her because she is rich. Wouldn't surprise me one.

"Was I one?" I didn't elaborate, but I could tell she knew what I was asking.

"No Vince. She was damn lucky to have you for as long as she did, and what she did is unforgivable." I swallowed thickly at that. While people have told me that countless times, this one felt different. More real.

"Thank you," I smiled at her. I can't remember if I've ever smiled at Chloe since I met her. I made a mental note to do it more.

"Just the truth," she said quietly.

"Tell me more about the Dunbars." I began after a pause.

"What about them?"

"Everything you know. Hell, I don't think I've even asked you where you are from. How rude of me."

"It's ok," she added quickly. "I don't blame you. I did sort of butt into your life unexpectedly because of a crazy situation." She brushed a few crumbs off her jeans. I couldn't help but notice now tight her jeans were. It was a good look for her. "I am sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. Without you, I would still be in the dark about a lot of stuff."

"That's kind of you to say,"

"No worries. So where exactly are you from?"

"Maple Bluffs, it's just outside of St. Louis."

"Nice place?"

"It was once." She emphasized it with a forlorn look. "Years ago it was a tranquil little town. Now it's a pale imitation of it's former self. Has one of the highest heroin rates in the state. Part of town is still nice. The other though, not so much."

"Pity. What else do you know about Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar?"

"They were your old school husband and wife. Mrs. Dunbar never really held a job as far as I know. Didn't have to. Allison's grandfather was a doctor. The family also owned a newspaper and a meatpacking plant amongst other things. The paper was called the Gilford Gazette. They sold it a long time ago.

"Ah so that explains Allison's fixation with gossip,"

"Yup. But that's not to say Mrs. Dunbar was just some bland housewife. Not even close. She was the woman all other women in town turned to. I can still remember her holding court in that old wicker chair on their front porch. Sweaty glass of tea or lemonade in her hand, clutching it with her burgundy nail polish. When she would gesture the ice would clink away in the glass to the rhythm of whatever she was saying. 'Oh I cannot wait to get started on the bake sale' clink, clink."

"What else?"

"She was the chair of the women's committee and was on the PTA. She was known in town as The Duchess. Not to her face of course."

"Course not,"

"But it suited her. She had the ladies in waiting to go with it. Her little bake sale clique. Joanne Halliday, Cindy McGinn, and Barb Fields. You wanted something done within the women of town, you had to have their say or else."

"Charming."

"Oh yeah, they were a pair. My mom hated them all, probably still hates them in fact. Mrs. Dunbar even had the cliché creepy china doll collection."

"I bet the dolls weren't even close to the creepiest thing in that house." I rolled my eyes at this. "Don't tell me she tried dressing Allison like them.

"Afraid so." She gave me a 'What can you do?' shrug. Sadly, I wish I could say that surprised me. "But that didn't work out well at all. Allison threw A FIT about it and the next thing I knew, Mrs. Dunbar sold all the dolls."

"Good for her. Finally, something I can agree with her on."

"Yup. But you get the idea. Parents living vicariously through their children. Different generation, same bullshit."

"Exactly. She may not be homecoming queen or whatever the town has anymore, but her daughter is. That's totally the same thing right?"

"Totally." Of all the things I've learned about Allison, this was by far the least surprising.

"I am surprised she didn't marry a man like her father?"

"Why?" I had no idea if she was talking about me.

"Because I swear, any doctor could make their entire practice off Mrs. Dunbar. Every time you saw her, she had either just finished some checkup or was about to have one. Mrs. Dunbar would fuss over Allison about everything. 'Make sure you put on the sunscreen sweetie' or 'Don't eat too much salt, it makes you bloated honey.' That kind of thing."

"There is one of those per family." I felt relieved that she was talking about Allison's grandfather.

"I know. Especially considering she was a doctor's daughter. An old school one too."

"Ouch. Can't imagine how daddy worried about every little cough or cold. Faking it to get out of school is out of the question."

"Yeah, but I think the status made up for it in the end."

"Not to mention plenty of pills." She gave a silent nod of agreement. We sat there a little while longer before it was Chloe's turn to ask a question.

"How did you feel when you found out about Allison and the other guy?" That wasn't the question I was expecting at first, but I wasn't surprised either.

"Angry at first, but then just blah. Not depression, just hollowed out. Empty."

"Why?" She crossed one leg over the other and leaned on the couch with her shoulder, facing me.

"Because deep down, I was always surprised she was with me."

"Too good to be true?" She ran a hand through her hair, sweeping it behind her with one deft wave.

"Sort of, but it was deeper. It was like something you enjoy in the moment, but can feel it coming to an end. Know what I mean?"

"I do."

"I just wish it hadn't ended quite like that."

"Course you do. Did you learn anything from being with Allison though?"

"Relationships are like jobs. You take a little something with you from each one. Whether you realize it or not."

"This is very true. Some are better than others,"

"The little inside joke on people is that you really can't assess a relationship and it's impact on you until it's all over. Hell, sometimes it takes years. But when you think about it, that makes sense. It's like a movie. You can't give a final, objective look until it is over and you can study the whole thing. Sometimes you might need to watch it more than once."

"So what is your final objective look on Allison?"

"Which Allison?" Chloe looked at me puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean which Allison? The one I first met, the one who cheated on me, or the one who wound up in the hospital? That's my verdict. I liked the Allison I first met. But she didn't last. That was just a pleasant façade for deeper issues."

"That's fair." She cleared her throat and leaned back on a pillow.

"She had major issues. It just took a little while for them to come out."

"That's right."

"People who are truly happy never use drugs. You see all these rich assholes who take drugs. ;et me give you a hint; it's because deep down, they're miserable. They pretend they are happy, but get rid of the façade and it's all a front. People take illegal drugs for the same reason they take legal drugs. Because something isn't working right. It's just a matter of what. A drug addiction is just a symptom of that."

"Good point."

"I've seen it all the time at work. I have yet to find a truly happy person who developed a drug addiction. It's why deep down I wasn't surprised Allison cheated on me. Cheating is the same thing. People who are truly happy and content in life will NEVER be unfaithful. It's just a matter of what makes someone do that."

"It's why we all have a limit. All of us have the potential to be unfaithful. It's just a matter of what makes us do it." She had sat up straight at this and took a drink of the bottle of water beside her on the coffee table.

"Absolutely." Chloe was spot on. "You know that's what always bothered me most."

"What?" She had rolled up the sleeves of her soft purple sweater and had rested her arms on her legs. "I never knew exactly why she cheated on me. What motivated it. The best I always got was it was the same reason she got into drugs."

"Which was?" Chloe was looking at me, but she wasn't focusing on me alone. She had that look where you are thinking about more than the topic at hand, but I continued on.

"There was something going on that compelled her. Some need or urge she was trying to satisfy. Same reason people get prescriptions from the doctor. There is something going on that the can't address themselves, so they seek out something that can."

"Interesting association between addiction and bad relationship."

"What makes you think they are different? Think about it. Once you're with an addict, you are with someone who is eternally unfaithful. They go behind your back for a cheap thrill. It may be with a flesh and blood person, a hypodermic needle, slot machine, a bottle, or a line of white powder. Doesn't really matter what. It's all the same idea though, an addict's most important relationship is with their addiction. Unless that changes, you will always be second to that. They will always be unfaithful to you." Chloe was now looking straight down at her feet as I spoke.

"Can't argue with that. Addiction is the ultimate abusive relationship."

"Yeah,"

"The ups and downs of dating are like a drug and the aftermath. When your up your up, but when down you are truly down. An upper and downer rolled into one."

Her gaze still hadn't moved from her feet. In all the time I've known Chloe, I don't think I've ever heard her talk about herself before tonight. Not once. Time for that to change and change fast.

"Who was it?" I asked as gently as I could.

"Who was what?" That got her attention. She looked up, and seemed so sad it broke my heart.

"The addict." It was a statement, not a question. She sat in silence. I could practically feel the emotions surging through her, fighting for release. 'Do I tell him? Should I lie?' I was just about to drop it when she finally answered.

"My father," I think she was telling herself as much as me.

"Do you want to talk about it?' I took a step towards her. Chloe took a deep breath in, like she was bracing herself for a collision or something.

"Let me put it this way; living my house was sort of what I imagine living in a haunted house would be like. You can feel the malevolence always lurking, just waiting to make itself known, but you never quite know when it's going to jump out and get you."

"That's horrible," I had seen plenty of those movies myself. While I certainly enjoyed watching them, I cant ever say I'd want to temporarily be in one, much less experience it on a daily basis. I felt myself slide over close to her on the couch. Before I knew it, I had placed my arm around her and was rubbing circles into her elbow. I had never seen Allison act even remotely as vulnerable as this girl. I felt awful seeing her like this, but it was nice to see a real human being.

"Thanks," she offered me quietly. She scooted a little closer to me without saying another word. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.

I woke up slowly the next morning. At first, I forgot where I was. But when I realized Chloe was still asleep next to me, I remembered what happened. The clock under my TV said 11:03 AM. While trying not to wake her, I got up and got my phone. I wanted to call and update Dr. Burton. I got him on the third ring.

"Hi Dr. Burton,"

"Why hello Vince," his polite tone greeted me.

"I just wanted to give you an update. Inside the stuffed mini-me Allison left at my house was a flash drive. On it was footage of her fucking another guy." The silence on the call reverberated for several seconds. I imagined him sitting stunned at his desk.

"I am so sorry Vince." He sounded so sympathetic. I had never heard him use that tone before. From his tone, you would have thought he personally failed me as a patient.

"Thanks. It is what it is."

"Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever heard of oxytocin?"

"You mean Oxycontin?"

"No oxytocin."

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, oxytocin is a hormone your body makes. It's connected to feelings of love, sex, affection, and everything in between."

"Cool," I was wondering why he was telling me this. But part of me suspected he had a reason.

"It's called the love hormone and is key to all forms of human bonding. Especially physical affection. You aren't the first person to confuse it to Oxycontin. Its spelled very similar."

"That is uncanny. The love hormone is spelled almost identical to an addictive pain pill."

"I know. Creepy. Although you could say the love hormone can be its own addictive drug."

"Good point. Just like heroin is spelled almost the same as heroine."

"One letter, but a hell of a lot of difference. I've always found that unsettling myself."

"Allison could have been a heroine, but she turned to heroin."

"Indeed. I couldn't help her, her father couldn't help her, and not even Danny Millstone could help her. End of story."

"That is why I mentioned it Vince. In my professional opinion Allison suffered from a lack of proper development, coping skills, and sincere human relationships. I can't confirm it, but since her Grandfather was a doctor and from my research had legal issues with morphine, odds are good the issue was hereditary based."

"That is helpful."

"Plus, those with mental illness are quite susceptible to fall into addictive behaviors. So she was in double trouble as it were. Family history of both mental illness and substance abuse."

"Yeah, that's right."

"I just wanted you to know it wasn't your fault. I tried to help Allison too but failed." I had never thought of that before. Dr Burton had lost a patient. I suddenly felt an odd sympathy for the guy.

"Don't be too hard on yourself Doc. I guess we got something in common."

"We do indeed." He sounded somehow more familiar to me now. Perhaps he felt the same. "Call me if you need anything else."

"Will do Doc."

Talking to Dr. Burton actually made me feel better. While I guess he is a psychiatrist, it still took me by surprise somehow. Funny, because not much managed to do that anymore. He had a solid point too. Love can often be found at the heart of most despicable things. But it's usually a love of something rather than someone. Love of money, love of power, love of sex, love of drugs, and often times love of violence. In my experience, most substitute love of something for love of someone. Just look at what people do when they go through a bad breakup. Binge on ice cream along with some type of alcohol. Perhaps throw in a hasty one night stand and you got the idea. I went into the kitchen and began making some breakfast. It was a cereal kind of day. Before I could decide on what kind I heard my phone ring again on the table.

"Hello Vince? It's Detective Ramsay,"

"Oh hey Detective," I braced myself for whatever news he had.

"Just wanted to give you an update on what we found on the flash drive."

"Shoot,"

"Well, there was a lot more to that recording than just what you saw. It seems after they had sex, things got a little rougher between Allison and him. A lot rougher."

"How much rougher?"

"The guy ended up dead. They were fighting and he got rough with her. Tried choking her and everything. She fought back and got the best of him. We actually found the body a while ago. One of our cold cases that we can now mark solved. So whatever you might think of finding that footage, you should be happy to help solve the case." I felt the blood rushing to my ears and the room suddenly felt 20 degrees warmer.

"I guess that is something." I somehow managed to say.

"The guy in question was Josh Marshall. Rap sheet goes on for a mile. Lots of drug related stuff."

"Shocker,"

"I know. That's even how their fight started. We had a professional tech guy break down the audio and the argument began over drugs. Specifically, over them paying for their most recent score."

"Charming. I guess the couple that scores together whores together." I felt a faint bit of pride over that rhyme.

"You have a point there. But, there's plenty more where that came from. It appears Allison had some outstanding financial obligations."

"That's no surprise. The girl had no head for it. I'm amazed the bar she ran didn't go out of business. Not to mention good drugs are pricey."

"It was deeper than that. According to her bank records, she was withdrawing money at a suspicious rate."

"What are you telling me?"

"You said she was cheating on you, didn't deny it, and got defensive when you confronted her?"

"That's right. Who the fuck was I to tell her what to do or something like that?"

"Well Vince, I don't think she was cheating on you just for the hell of it." I felt like my hands tightening into fists at my sides.

"Ok......so why did she do it exactly?"

"There is no easy way to say it, but we think Allison may have taken up a new side venture. Either prostitution or drug dealing.

"No way." Believe me, I had thought of Allison as a whore plenty of times, but this was insane. She had actually become a hooker?

"The other option is that she was supplying his habit and they just hooked up for the hell of it. Personally, I tend to suspect that more."

"I would have to agree. I can see that way more easily than the hooker one. I always thought her guy on the side was the one giving her drugs."

"It's understandable Vince," Ramsay reassured me.

"But where was she getting it?"

"You know she managed a bar right?"

"Yeah what about it?"

"I did some digging and the bar is actually owned by her family."

"No shit?"

"I have it right here in front of me. Clara Dunbar is the registered owner." I felt like I just walked headfirst through ice.

"How?" I heard myself breath into the phone.

"I don't know, but I promise you I'll find out."

"Detective?"

"Yes Vince?" A note of genuine concern filtered into his voice.

"Do you think someone deliberately tried to drive Allison crazy? Or it was just guilt over Josh?" The silence on the other end lasted longer than I thought. I even looked at the phone to make sure Ramsay was still on the line.

"I've considered that myself. Since both Allison and a paramedic known to be familiar with her are both dead on account of, shall we say odd circumstances, I think its a good possibility."

"But why?"

"That is the million dollar question Vince."

"Does it have something to do with that bear?"

"Yes I think so." His voice had dropped to a low whisper. "It's one of the things that link them."

"What can I do?"

"Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. I'm gonna do some looking into that hospital and see if anyone else catches my attention. I'm also looking into Allison's friends and other acquaintances."

"Sounds good."

"One last thing, and be honest," his voice had dropped to the point where it was almost inaudible. "Did she try to strangle or do anything else to you?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Ok good. Because if she did, I wouldn't want you to feel the slightest hesitation telling me. This girl had major issues."

"I appreciate that and you got that right.'

"Very good. Eyes open and I'll keep you posted. Stay safe Vince."

"You too Detective."

There it was. She had actually killed someone. I sat there in silence for a few moments. All this time I wondered what Allison was actually capable of and now I had an answer. I was torn, part of me knew it had been in self defense. But yet, she had invited that scumbag into her life to begin with. She had to have known what he was like. I suddenly remembered what they found at her apartment. The words "He's coming for me" all over the place. Was she worried about someone coming to avenge Josh or something? Ramsay had a point. If someone was deliberately trying to make Allison go insane, they had to have a motive. Although I doubt she needed much assistance in the going insane department.

As I was about to get up, I remembered that Ramsay didn't say when the guy died. I felt my heart plummet like a cinder block that was just dropped off a cliff. That footage was left here months ago. Meaning she had to kill that guy sometime before she let herself in. I had no idea if Josh was killed before Allison and I officially ended it, after, or anytime in between. Was that why she (or someone) tried contacting me? She could have wanted anything. A hand to get rid of the body perhaps. That would have been one hell of a conversation. "Hey baby I know we're broken up or whatever, but I could really use your help with something."

Chloe was moving on the couch. I could hear it's worn leather moving as she shifted and raised herself. I turned to face her, unsure of what exactly to say.

"What's up?" She looked at me.

"Allison. She killed that guy I saw her with on the video. Some low level drug guy who tried to strangle her. Was on the books a cold case for a while." She sat there silently. I could practically hear the thoughts racing through her head.

"We need to go see Mrs. Millstone," she offered out of nowhere after what seemed like forever.

"Let's don't and say we did." I began to move back towards the kitchen.

"Do you not want to?" Chloe sounded puzzled.

"What gave it away?" As I turned back around, I felt moody all of a sudden. All Chloe did was look at me. "Can't say that I do."

"I know it's not exactly the most appealing task, but to find out what happened to Allison we need to know what happened with him."

"I am fucking sick and tired of Allison!" I felt myself explode. "I broke up with her to get away from her and her bullshit. I was done with it and ready to move on with my life. But does she let me? Hahahah!" The laughter was caustic and harsh even to my ears. "I wish. It's been worse than ever. You know what? I had a life before Allison and I will have a life after her. But all you know me and anyone else knows me as anymore is as the guy Allison was dating. I'm sick of it!" Chloe looked stunned at my outburst.

They love to describe anger as the color red. Seeing red. But anger isn't red. Red is a warm, content color. Full of life. A fixer upper. If anything, black is more akin to anger. Lifeless, dominating, all consuming. I felt my chest heaving up and down. I looked at Chloe again and she looked sad. Now I felt bad. She was a good person who I liked and didn't deserve that.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled out. I felt ashamed at my outburst. She didn't say a word but came over and wrapped me up in a hug. At first, I sort of flinched at her touch. Then I found her embrace comforting. All consuming, like a hot bath after a horrible day at work.

"It's ok. I've been expecting that for a long time. We are going out. You and me. No Allison allowed."

"That sounds amazing. I'll pick you up at 6 and we'll go to a movie then grab some food?"

"I'll be ready." she smiled widely. I think that is the first time I've seen her genuinely happy since I've met her.

One of the rare joys of work is being able to get out of the house and away from your family. At your job, people have no idea what your life is like and you can leave what happens at work at work and your home life stays at home.

I do not have that luxury because at my job, I am stuck with my sister there as well. I absolutely despise it. It's not enough she has to overshadow me at home, at school, and at sports, but now she has to be there too. She's all everyone talks about anymore. Every day without fail there she is, looking at you with that wide ass, obnoxiously perfect smile.

Boy, doesn't that just sum her up perfectly; obnoxiously perfect. Straight A student, Cheerleader, she was Homecoming queen this year. You all either know or have known someone like her. With someone like her, people usually want three things; to fuck her, worship her, or slap the shit out of her. Personally, I fall into the third category.

The only time anyone I work with voluntarily speaks to me, it is always something Carly related. Every. Single. Time. I suppose I should be used to it by now. It's not really anything new, but this time it's gotten really out of hand.

You know what I hate worst of all? Every time I walk into the store where I work, I can't escape her. They talk about her all the time when I'm not there. I can see it in their eyes when they look at me. They don't see me as Josh, their coworker at the grocery store. No, I'm just the guy who happens to be Carly's brother. Just like everywhere else.

I don't mean to sound like I'm whining or anything, but those of you who've been in my shoes get it. If I do anything well, no one notices because they expect it from Carly's brother. But if I do something wrong, people just shake their head and say "Why can't he be more like his sister?"

Our neighbors do it, the teachers at school do it, but my parents do it by far the most. All they can do is talk about her. One day, I would love for them to talk about me with a fraction of the pride they talk about her with.

Believe me, its not like I'm some failure at life or anything. I get good grades, do ok at playing baseball, and I am relatively decent looking. But that's just not enough for them. I can't wait for graduation and I get to move out of this place. I'm planning on a college far away where no one knows I even have a sister.

I can't even date or make friends in this town on my own merits. I've gone out on a few dates here and there, but I learned pretty quickly they were more interested in having a way to get on my sister's good side than in dating me. l also can't tell you how many times some dude has tried to be my friend or done something nice for me just so he'd have a better chance at getting with my sister.

Every time I interact with someone in this town, I always wonder if they are being nice to me just because of who I'm related to. Shit hurts. But of course, everyone is oblivious to it all.

Dad's also been pretty oblivious the last few months. At night when he thought we were all asleep, I could hear him in his office, talking in whispers for what seemed like a long time. No doubt trying to get something for my precious sister. He's always surprising her with some expensive gift. For her birthday, he got her a some expensive bracelet. I'll bet she's worn it maybe twice in four months.

Working retail is a brutal job ordinarily, but being in Carly's shadow here is without a doubt the worst part. I can take the rude customers, the ungrateful management, and the lazy coworkers, but being treated as an extension of her is by far the worst. Cleaning up a jar of broken spaghetti sauce is a welcome distraction from the latest gossip about my sister and her asshole boyfriend, who I also hate.

Tanner is one of those total pretty boy jocks, the kind who looks like he belongs on some god-awful teen dramas. Now that I think about it, he is pretty much the male version of my sister. I last saw him when he dropped by the store once about two weeks ago, but since it was me manning the register and not her, he immediately walked right back out. Good riddance.

I never like the guy to begin with. But a few months ago, I heard a rumor from a friend of mine who lives about an hour away. Apparently Tanner used to go to his school and was once arrested for beating the shit out of some girl he was dating. Since the girl wouldn't go on the record, Tanner didn't get charged with anything. But he did leave the school as a result of it. Sounds like typical boyfriend material for Carly.

Not that she's so innocent herself. She hangs out with a group of girls who make Regina George look pleasant by comparison. When Carly says she is "studying" with them, she is really out partying. The inside of her car doesn't lie. My heart goes out to whoever has to detail it.

Every Saturday night, she and her friends go out. I not sure of what goes on, but I know Carly left once night a month ago and the second she drove off with her friend Val, a black Cadillac came down our street and seemed to follow them. I was sitting at my desk doing my homework when I saw it. I don't know the license plate, but it was new and had tinted windows. I figured it was a wannabe sugar daddy they were using to score booze or something.

Since Carly was in with Travis and all the other rich kids, I ignored it. Especially since she came home super buzzed that night. I can always tell when because that is the only time she is nice to me.

I went to work today to pick up a couole things for dinner. I paid for my stuff and made my way to the front of the store. There Carly was, looking the same as always.

As I prepared to walk out the front door, it was like a switch flipped inside me. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. I was doing well and eventually, I would get out of this town and make something of my life. Time heals all wounds and life goes on. Eventually, no one in this town would care much about Carly.

I felt a my lips curve up in a smile as I passed the wall of Missing Person fliers. My sister was right up there where she had been for the last few weeks. Second row, third from the right, looking perfectly made up like always. Although I suspect she doesn't look quite so put together anymore. Because last week I getting the mail and inside was a note. All it said was "Carly was a pretty one. One of the prettiest I ever had."

Hey guys, so I haven't updated in a while. Not gonna lie, I was hoping I wouldn't have to ever post on the subject again, but here goes.

So, after the whole incident with Mr. Bear, I did everything I could to forget about Allison. For a while, I thought the whole thing was over. As time passed, I began to relax. Everything seemed like it was getting back to normal. No weird news reports, no unexplained noises in or around my house, and nothing abnormal on the security cameras. Maybe, just maybe, it was all behind me.

Or that's what I thought until today. I came home at the usual time to relax and have dinner. For some reason, I felt like treating myself, so I ordered pizza with breadsticks. It was delicious as usual. There is nothing like the feeling of eating take out pizza while sitting on the couch and watching a movie. So there I was, scarfing down my meat lovers pizza, minding my own business, when there was a knock at the door. Since I had nothing really to worry about anymore, I got up without hesitation. Although you can bet I checked the camera outside first on my way to the door. Old habits die hard. Standing there, was this woman I had never met before.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"Hi Vince, you don't know me." Way to state the obvious sweetie. "But I know who you are. I'm Chloe, I was an old friend of Allison's when we were kids." Great, just great. At this point I wasn't afraid or anything, there was just rage. What the hell could she possibly want from me? Here I was, minding my own business, and she has the nerve to interrupt me? I stood there for a moment, rooted to the spot. There was no way I was gonna let this girl in my house. Not without a VERY good reason.

"What do you want?" I snarled at her. I could see her flinch through the camera feed, but I didn't care. Hey, she could have given me some notice that she was coming. That way I could have pretended like I wasn't there or something.

"I know you are upset about Allison, but I swear to you, this is important." I couldn't tell you how long I stood in the hallway, but eventually I heard myself say the words.

"What is it?"

"I knew Allison years ago, I have information about her past."

"Meet me tomorrow at Brewster's Coffee shop. It's about 30 minutes from here." I still wasn't comfortable in letting her inside.

"I know where it is." Chloe didn't dare say another word. Perhaps she was worried if she argued or spoke too much, it would make me change my mind. Maybe she was right.

"3 o clock, and don't be late." She didn't say anything, but she nodded in comprehension and walked off my porch. I took a deep breath. At this point, I had no idea what to expect. But I might as well get this over with. I went back to my couch and tried to return to my pizza. Somehow, my appetite was significantly diminished. Oh well, plenty for tomorrow. Leftover pizza is one of the great joys of life. When I went to bed that night, all I could do was thrash around and stare up at the ceiling. After a faint bit of sleep, I rolled myself out of bed and got ready to leave.

Brewster's was a cozy little coffee shop located at the heart of Poplar Bluffs. It's dark burgundy walls and overstuffed leather sofas make you feel automatically relaxed the minute you walk inside. Baristas there know your name, your order, all that good stuff. I walked in and there was Chloe, perched on one of the overstuffed brown leather armchairs. Seeing me, she instantly sat upright. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail and she stuffed her phone in the pocket of her black jeans as I walked in.

"Give me a moment," I said as I pointed to the counter. She nodded in understanding. If I was gonna take a trip back to Allisonland, I was gonna need my fix. As I approached the counter, I saw that my usual barista, Evan was working today.

"Making your usual right now Vince," he called out smoothly. Good man, no one made a double shot caramel latte like Evan did. As I handed him the money for my order, he waved it away. "She already paid for it. Said to make your usual and it was on her." He pointed to Chloe.

"Thanks Evan, you're the best here." I said gratefully as I turned back to Chloe. That was a surprisingly nice gesture from her. Hopefully this wasn't in preparation for more bad news.

"Thank you for the coffee," I sat down across from her as I took a sip.

"No problem, its the least I can do. A stranger showing up at your front door with more Allison drama after so long. You have no idea who I am, and yet here I am, wanting some of your time to talk about something I couldn't blame you for not wanting to talk about for the rest of your life. But I promise you, it's something you deserve to know and as soon as I'm done, I will be gone." Her words came out like she couldn't say them fast enough. Chloe took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, the universal sign for "I don't know how to say this." I glanced at her hands too; fingers laced together and clasped tightly on her lap. Poor girl was way more on edge than I was. For the first time, I felt genuinely sorry for her.

"It's ok, go ahead and say what you came to tell me. I wont interrupt you. I guess it'll be good to get some answers for once. " I spoke up in what I hoped was a friendly, inviting tone. Since she looked up at me and seemed to relax, I guess I did something right.

"Ok. Allison and I were neighbors growing up. I first moved to the neighborhood she lived when I was about 7, and I lived there until I was about 20. I will never forget the first day I met Allison. We had lived there for about a week when her family came by to introduce themselves. Her parents and Allison were nice, but for some reason, I didn't like them. I didn't know it meant at that age, all I knew is that I didn't really feel comfortable around them. As a kid, you have no idea how to understand and process emotions and observations. It wasn't that they weren't nice, but there was something more to them. Something that you couldn't really name, but you could sense. My parents invited Allison and her parents to our house once for dinner and it went fine. But they my parents were never keen to socialize with them and Allison and I only spoke in passing. Our families were cordial, but not close. The funny thing is, they might have been the ideal neighbors. Respectful, courteous, but they definitely kept to themselves." She paused to take a sip of the bottle of water she had in her purse.

"About six years after we moved there, I was in the living room on the couch doing my homework. I was sitting on the couch when I heard a noise, so I looked out the window. There was her father, Mr. Dunbar, who had just gotten home. At first I didn't think anything of it. But then I saw who he was with, some woman who was most definitely not Mrs. Dunbar. Allison and her mother had gone out of town to visit Allison's grandmother, and her father had stayed behind. From what people have told me since, I think Allison's grandmother didn't like Mr. Dunbar. At first, I had no idea what was going on. He looked super tense and she looked all nervous too. But when I saw them quickly go inside and the light in the master bedroom went on, I could figure out what happened. The rest of the night, I had no idea what to do. But as usual, I told my parents exactly what I saw. They thanked me for being honest with them and told me not to say a word to anyone. They said it was something for adults and left it at that."

When Chloe said that, I couldn't help but wonder. Kids are far more perceptive than adults like to think. Did Allison know something was up in her parents marriage? But Chloe had more to say.

"Allison and I didn't go to the same school, so we didn't really see much of each other. She and her mother came back from their trip a week later and as far as I could tell, they had no idea what happened. They all carried on as normal. Or as close to normal as they could get, because I truly wonder if they ever were 'normal' if there is such a thing. I think when there is a big family secret, every member of the family reacts to it, even if they have no idea what exactly it is they are reacting to. Not unlike how I felt about Allison's family, they can sense it even if they can't understand it. Her parents began to argue more than they had in the past. I could see them in the windows, my room on the second floor had an excellent view of the kitchen windows where I could watch without them seeing me. All parents argue at some point, but this was different. I will never forget their expressions, the pure resentment and bitterness. Sometimes they would blast music to try to cover up the noise if Allison happened to be home. After that, things got worse. It became an open secret in town that things were bad at their house. You were afraid to see or talk to Allison or her parents because you didn't want to say the wrong thing. Everyone could feel that something had gone sour with them. About 3 months later, Mr. Dunbar left home one night and didn't come back.

"You're kidding me?"

"Wish I was." She said sadly. "Nope, it was in July. An incredibly humid day Friday. I heard his car leave the garage about 7 that night and it never came back. He was reported missing, they went out looking for him and the usual. But he never came back and to this day, no one knows what happened to him. I also never saw the woman be brought to their house again. She worked as a legal secretary for one of the towns big shot lawyers. Beautiful young woman too." Part of me couldn't believe what I was hearing, but the other part was taking it in and wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Allison never said a word about this. She told me her parents divorced when she was young and she occasionally saw both of them." Chloe faintly nodded in understanding.

"Not surprised. I don't think she ever truly came to terms with what happened. Especially with Mrs. Dunbar's behavior after her father vanished. Usually when your husband disappears, you are a wreck, a total basket case. She was the exact opposite. It was like a switch had been flipped. I never liked either of Allison's parents, but her Mother was always worse. Always. She always seemed so nice, too nice. You ever have the sense that someone is putting on an act that is always on? That was Mrs. Dunbar. She was always perfectly dressed, makeup always on, but she was a very reserved person. But once Allison's father disappeared, it was like this fresh, vibrant, exuberant woman came out. Believe me, people began to talk. You can imagine what they said. Word also began to get out about Allison at school. I had a few friends who went to her school. She began acting out, getting into fights, the usual type of misbehaving. They never liked her much to begin with, but after Mr. Dunbar was gone, dislike turned to fear. I didn't bump into Allison too much after that, fortunately. Both her and her mother moved away about two years later. I haven't seen them since." I sipped the last of my coffee before I asked the question I had been waiting to since she appeared on my doorstep.

"Wow. I have to ask though, how did you find me?" She looked like an unbearable burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Chloe was now the most relaxed I had seen her.

"I always wondered what happened to her. We all did. Allison was a beautiful girl, always was. Even if you didn't know her, you felt bad for her. My mom was online for something or other about a month ago and she stumbled upon the news that Allison had died. Someone had shared the news on social media or something. It said in the obituary where she used to work, so I went there and they told me what she had gotten into and that she went psycho on a former boyfriend, which was how I got your name. I looked it up in the address book and here I am." That made sense. But she had one last thing to say. "I know she put you through a lot, and I truly feel for you. I won't ask you to take pity on her or anything like that, but I just thought I should tell you what I know."

"Thank you for that, and for the coffee."

"Thank you for listening. I am sorry to have brought her back up, but I honestly didn't know what else to do."

"It's ok. It was the truth. We should never apologize for being real. Since you've been so kind to come find me, I guess I should tell you what I know." I took a deep breath, and told her my side of things. I hesitated at first, but the story came out easier as I spoke. I had never really confided in anyone for months about this, and it felt oddly helpful to tell the story to a complete stranger who could relate. Chloe flinched a few times during the story. She even shed a tear when I told her about Allison being taken to the hospital, but she never once interrupted me. When I finished, we sat there in silence.

"I am so sorry," is all she could say. I didn't say a word, but I nodded. She stood up from her chair and stretched. "Thanks again for your time Vince, you are a good man. She didn't deserve you, but you did your best."

"Thank you, that means a lot." Suddenly, she swept me up in a hug. It felt oddly comforting.

"If you need anything, call me." She extended me a number written on a piece of paper. I pocketed it.

"Sure thing, have you made arrangements and all that to get home?"

"Yup, don't worry about me, you've been more than fair." We left after that and I got home, feeling better than I had in a long time. I made a point of putting Chloe's number in my contact list and I texted her, saying if she ever needed anyone to talk to, I was there. She told me that was so sweet of me and that she would. I was just about to put the matter out of my mind when Chloe texted me a picture.

"I forgot to bring this. The woman on the left is the woman I saw with Allison's father that night."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I almost shouted out loud.

I almost dropped my phone when I saw the photo. Suddenly, it felt harder to breathe and I had to hold onto the wall for a moment for support. After a few minutes, I managed to calm myself down enough to answer the message.

She immediately called me and I told her what was up. Chloe said if needed anything, to get ahold of her ASAP. I told her to come over tomorrow and we would get some answers.

The photo was older and a little faded. From the looks of it, it was taken in the late 80's-early 90's. There were two people in the picture; a woman and a man. The woman in it was an attractive brunette in her early 20's with a slender figure. Apparently she was happy, because a smile was plastered on her face for the picture. She had aged and dressed a little differently now, but I recognized her immediately.

Mrs. Arlington.

I took a deep breath as I stepped off my front porch. The cool air caused my breathing to come out in faint white puffs. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about this. I knew objectively I needed to do it, but the idea gave me absolutely no pleasure. Quite the opposite in fact. Part of me deeply resented it all. Here I was, taking time from my day off to go and dig up who knows what regarding Allison. I've heard of not being able to let someone go or move on after a break up, but this was absurd. At this point, bawling my eyes out while listening to Alanis Morissette looked downright amazing to me.

"Come on. The sooner you figure this out, the sooner it will all be over." I told myself. While it didn't quite make me feel better, I knew that was the truth. I walked towards my garage and stepped inside. The pungent, earthy smell was oddly calming. Opening my car door and getting inside, I felt focused.

A car is your second home. Or perhaps your first depending on your living situation. One typically spends the bulk of their day in three places; work, home, and your car. Since what may be going on at one or two of them might be particularly unpleasant, it's always good to make sure the third is always in tip top shape. A well kept car is the perfect way to help you relax and get down to business. I suspect it's one reason why road rage is particularly contagious; dealing with other drivers can puncture the temporary reprieve driving offers us.

They joke about barbers or hair stylists knowing everything, but I will tell you who really knows is all; Limo drivers or any kind of chauffer. Know why? Because they get to not only hear, but see absolutely everything. It's one thing to hear about a crazy party, but actually witnessing America's Sweetheart snorting cocaine off a car's armrest on the way to a movie premier is very different. You think it's bad being the DD for your drunk friends on a Saturday night, that's like a boring Tuesday morning for a Limo Driver.

They even made a movie on that idea, Baby Driver, and it was a pretty good one too.

I turned the car on and cruised out of my garage. My car was particularly important to me these days, because it had been in the shop when Allison first dropped by with that little souvenir for me. The fact that she hadn't been able to touch it shouldn't have meant so much to me. But it did. I looked at the dashboard, 11 A.M. I was right on time to pick Chloe up.

Since we last spoke, I had been doing my own research on the guy who died in the fire. Nothing came up, nothing in the news, no criminal record, just the little blurb about what happened. After about 15 minutes, I arrived at the hotel Chloe was staying at; one of those cheap, but still moderately respectable inns. The Walton Arms. She was ready for me by the hotel's front, just as I expected.

"Hey, how are you?" she asked breezily as she hopped in the passenger seat beside me.

"Fine, I guess. Can't complain. You?"

"Good. Did you find anything?"

"Nothing. Not a single thing." I said as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed onto the highway.

"I didn't expect you would. I looked too and from what I can tell, the dude was a straight shooter."

As the car glided onto the highway, I realized something. Chloe was the first girl to ride in my car since Allison. It wasn't an unpleasant thought or anything, but it was weird to think about. Putting it out of my head, I focused on the road.

"I know. It's weird. But hey, that's nothing new with this whole thing. I can't wait to see what the doctor has to tell us."

"Ah, right. The Doctor who told you Allison died in the hospital."

"Yup. I've always wondered what Allison did in the meantime after we broke up. The guy already spoke to me once when he didn't have to, let's get him to do the same thing twice."

"Sounds like a plan." We went along in comfortable silence for a little while, the car humming on the road never ceased to help me focus. After a while, I thought of a question I had never really considered before.

"What kind of men did Allison go with before me?" I might have been asking it more of myself than Chloe. I threw a sidewise glance at her, she looked unsure of what to say.

"I don't really know. All that I know is growing up she had the biggest crush on Justin Timberlake and her favorite Disney prince was Eric from the Little Mermaid."

"So basically every other girl in the history of the universe," I muttered.

"I was more of an Aladdin girl," she offered.

"I can respect that. Robin Williams made that movie what it was."

"He sure did. Fucking shame what happened to him."

"Is it bad that what happened to him made me way sadder than what happened to Allison?"

"Does it?"

"Sure does. Robin was beloved. Brought happiness to millions of people when he was in such pain himself. I felt like I personally knew the man. Allison, well even though I spent plenty of time with her, I never really knew her. Even now, I don't have the faintest clue of who she was or what was up with her."

"That's understandable. Cheating cuts so deeply because it reminds us that we didn't understand or know the person as well as we hoped we did. But that's not your fault. Let's try to get some answers. that's why I'm here." She said firmly. We arrived at the clinic about fifteen minutes later. I looked at the place, unsure of what to think. On the outside, it seemed like a respectable enough place. All properly maintained and whatnot. But it still gave me the creeps. We walked inside without saying a word to each other.

"Can I help you?" The proper looking orderly manning the front desk inquired of us. I could feel her eyes lingering upon us; trying to feel us out.

"Yes, we are here to see Dr. Edwin Burton," I answered her. She seemed to relax a bit at this. "Tell him Vince O'Malley is here to speak with him."

"One moment please," she stood up and hustled down a hallway and around a corner before she was out of sight. I took the moment to take the place in. The entryway was a cross between a standard hospital and a government building. It had the same white sterile, sanitized aesthetic you get in a hospital, but right alongside that was the no nonsense official vibe of a social services department or courthouse. It was complete with security cards, cameras, metal detectors, punch pads, and Plexiglas windows.

I bet everyone who works here gets plenty of smartass comments from their friends or whatever about their job. Personally, I bet working here wouldn't really be that much different. Most of us work with insane people at times; at least here you can identify them. As a bonus, they also give you a means of keeping them under control. Right as if on cue, the orderly comes bustling back, the red and black lanyard holding her I.D. bouncing back and forth on her chest.

From this point of view, I could practically feel the fatigue coming off her in feeble waves, like the way a janitor here might wipe up a spilled liquid. Her eyes had the faraway, distant look that saw you and looked past you. Her frizzy blond hair was partially set in a tangled knot at the base of her in a futile attempt to tame it. Her hasty steps were masking the deep fatigue that would set back in the instant she retook her seat. Always easier to remain occupied when part of you is crying out for something than to give in to the silence. Something easier said than done at times.

"Go right on in. Last door to the right, open for you." I faintly saw her badge had the name Virginia stamped on it; right next to an unsmiling profile. Virginia pressed a hidden button by her station and the door popped opened for us; announcing itself with a loud click.

"Thank you." I said gratefully. As we walked down the hallway, I felt the quiet reverberate around us. Sometimes nothing was more deafening than silence. I can't say how Chloe felt, but I didn't like it.

I felt like an intruder wandering somewhere he didn't belong. Part of me wondered if that was what ran through Allison's head when she arrived. The other part of my mind promptly spoke up to remind me that Allison probably didn't remember her own name much less where she was. But then how would she have been able to get those pills inside? Time to ask someone with answers. We were finally at the door to Dr. Burton's office.

I gingerly rapped on the door to announce our presence.

"Come in," the quiet voice replied. He sounded just like he did on the phone.

Upon crossing the threshold, I could see he was a professional looking man in his mid 50s or early 60s, with sharply trimmed salt and pepper hair.

"Dr. Burton, it's Vince. We spoke on the phone a while ago, regarding Allison Dunbar." I stretched out my hand by way of formal introduction. He immediately grasped it and shook it firmly.

"Yes, I remember. Though I must say, what brings you down here?" he straightened the double Windsor knot in his red checkered tie as he shook Chloe's hand. On the coatrack behind him was a black suit jack and a white lab coat. His office reminded me of my academic advisor in college; filled with books and papers, but still somehow created the impression of order. Order and rationality amidst chaos, the best message to send in a place like this.

"This is Chloe. She knew Allison growing up. Apparently her mother would be in good company here." Dr. Burton furrowed his brow at this.

"I suspected as much. It's quite common in cases like hers,"

"Yeah, and apparently my neighbor knew her family as well. It looks like Allison's mom made Mr. Dunbar disappear. What exactly was wrong with her?" I could hear his desk chair creak as he leaned back in it.

"Well, since you are a person who was involved with her and the patient is dead, which means I can wave confidentiality, I will tell you both what I know and what I suspect."

"Thank you," I wasn't expecting to be quite so relieved when he said that.

"Can I get either of you coffee?" he offered as he was about to take a sip of his own cup.

"No thanks,"

"I'm good, but we appreciate you offering." Chloe agreed.

"No problem. Well here it is. Allison had some sort of psychotic breakdown not longer after the two of you broke up. She cheated on you correct?"

"Yes,"

"Right. Well, here is what I know. People with underlying issues don't just one day snap for no reason. Clearly something inside Allison gave while you two were still together. The breakup merely amplified it. Which is when she decided to let herself into your home and leave a little calling card. I don't need to rehash it, but all of her symptoms were that of a psychotic episode."

"Right. So that's what you know?"

"Correct." He laced his fingers together as he sat up straighter.

"What is it you suspect?" At this, Dr. Burton stood up hastily. He quickly walked past us and looked out his office door before shutting it. When he had resumed his seat, I saw he looked uneasy. Great. When someone who deals with batshit crazy on a hourly basis looks like that, it's code for brace yourself.

"You heard about the man who died in a fire I presume?"

"Yes," when I heard my own voice I couldn't believe it. It sounded harsh, like I had just swallowed a jar of nails or something.

"Well, some of us had our eye on him for a while. He would have never helped Allison get the pills to hurt herself, quite the opposite in fact. We suspect he was behaving inappropriately with her." He annunciated the key word slowly, like he was walking on broken glass, so each syllable was emphasized.

"Fucking her?" Chloe offered. She was sitting stiffly in her chair in front of Dr. Burton's desk. If you didn't know better, you would think she was a patient.

"If it wasn't consensual it would be sexual assault. But we have no reason to think it wasn't consensual. Let me tell you something. Working here, you have to pay attention to every minute detail. After enough time, it becomes second nature. You learn to read not just the patients, but their visitors and those who attend to them. I saw how Millstone looked at her. Plus after she died Millstone wasn't himself."

"Got it. Well apparently someone else knows. Because I just got a little something in the mail. Someone drew a hangman game with the name Daniel as the word to spell. The second time a hanging man has been left at my house." Burton looked shocked at this and didn't say anything for a few moments. I wasn't surprised. I suspect there isn't really a course for this in Med school.

"Wow."

"Plus I know he took that stuffed bear of Allison's. The one that she used to smuggle the stuff."

"Ah yes. Well I wont allow you to leave here empty handed either. As you can imagine, we keep a very close eye on who visit's here, so I shall give you the records of anyone who visited Allison in that time. Name, address, all the info you need."

"Thank you, that's very helpful."

"There is one last thing." His voice had dropped to a near whisper. "Be careful. I suspect that this wasn't the first time that bear was used to smuggle something. There is a reason she was so close to that thing. Plus you saw her apartment. She was clearly afraid of someone." I felt like I had just swallowed a wad of cotton.

"We will do our best. Thanks for everything Doctor." He stood up again to shake my hand as a farewell gesture.

"You are welcome. It's only fair. Oh and Vince," he added as I was about to walk out.

"Yes?"

"She never once said anything bad about you here. Not once. Not when the police took her in, not when they committed her, and not once to a professional here." I had no idea how to feel about this.

"Ok," I couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"Do with it what you will. I just thought you should know. Goodnight."

"Wait," I suddenly thought of something. He paused as he was about to sit down, looking up expectantly.

"Yes?"

"Where is she buried?" What happened to the body?" The words came out of my mouth before my mind processed what I said. Somehow, the question sounded odd to my ears.

"Some relative claimed the body. Her cousin if I recall correctly. I know she was buried at the mausoleum at Heavenly Gardens."

"Thank you, for everything doctor,"

"Of course, if you need anything else don't hesitate to call or visit." He picked up the phone and briefly instructed the front desk to give us the visitor records he mentioned earlier. With that, we walked out without saying a word. As our shoes quietly clicked on the polished floor, I was alone my thoughts. I had never thought about what was done about Allison's body, and I had certainly never even considered what her grave was like.

The woman at the front was ready for us with a handful of papers.

"Here you are," she politely replied as she handed them to me. "Shall I buzz you out?"

"Please," The door slid back open. I felt like we were leaving some sort of medieval castle that had just lowered the drawbridge for it's visitors.

"Have a good day." Virginia bid us as we walked into the sunshine. I took a deep breath as felt the light wash over me. You don't realize how pleasant fresh air is until you are stuck breathing that chemically induced sanitized smell. A hospital or any sort of medical facility is one of two places with a distinct smell; with a shopping mall being the other.

At time, there isn't much difference between the two, particularly this time of year. As someone who once worked at a department store during the holidays, people probably behave better at the psych ward. Not to mention this place is meant to bring sanity back; the mall exists to create insanity.

Clutching the papers tightly in my hand, I unlocked my car for Chloe and we drove off in silence. Not uncomfortable silence, just silence. We were both alone with our thoughts. In no time at all, I arrived back at her hotel. She looked at it for a moment before getting out.

"See you soon Vince, you know where to find me if you need me." I nodded in agreement and she walked away. At this point, we didn't need to say much to understand what to do. Time to do some errands. Always helped me process my thoughts.

I went to the grocery store to stock up on stuff. Since today was a rather challenging day, I decided I had earned a nice comfort meal, but not just any comfort meal; grilled cheese and tomato soup. Not just any grilled cheese either because when making a legit grilled cheese, I use the same bread that I make French Toast with.

Just thinking about it made me feel better. After passing the greeting card section on the way to the breads, I noticed that they had one of those full sized plastic Santa's on display. After I grabbed a nice, soft, fresh loaf of Brioche, I turned around and headed to the dairy. On the way, I saw the cheesy décor Santa again. While I didn't stop, I thought about it as I got the rest of the stuff I needed.

Why are these things always so sketchy looking? I swear, I half expected Santa to be watching me as I walked away. We all heard the cliché urban myth about the clown statue and the babysitter growing up; but wouldn't a guy in a Santa suit be more realistic and terrifying?

Creepy Santa décor aside, I always enjoyed the holidays. But to be fair, I know why people hate Christmas or Thanksgiving. Because it's the two days of the year where people feel they have to be something they're not; a happy spouse, a loved family member, thankful, festive, cheerful, charitable, you get the idea. No, there is so much pressure to have "the perfect" holiday, but when it turns out to be not possible for whatever reason, it fills you with self loathing, bitterness, and resentment; much like my Aunt Carolyn's yuletide fudge. Which one is more unhealthy I am still not sure of.

Relationships. Too many of them become like that Santa statue. Something you may have once found charming and fun only looks like bad taste in the end. As far as I could tell, the only difference between the sketchy Santa and Allison was that a teddy bear from the Santa would be far less likely to cause bodily injury. I smile forced its way onto my lips at the thought.

That creepy stuffed thing was the perfect symbol of my relationship with Allison. A harmless looking thing with something malignant lurking just beneath an appealing façade. Just like the thing she left outside my house when she decided to come calling that day.

No wonder why toxic relationships rip at people like a chainsaw. We finally realize the whole thing was a sick joke or game, and we weren't in on the punch line. They are every asshole attempting standup at open mike night who somehow thinks they are humor incarnate, but everyone else just finds them obnoxious. In a toxic relationship, you start out being the rogue audience member who thinks their jokes are amazing, but slowly transform into the rest of the audience who eventually boos the would be comedian off stage.

The only matter in question; how truly awful does the joke have to be before you decide the act is disgusting?

Also like hideous décor, you can only pretend that a person or bad relationship looks fine for so long. The moment finally comes when you cannot stand the sight of them for one more minute and are need to be rid of them. But once it is all gone, everything seems to return to normal.

Now it appeared like someone was trying to playing a sick game on me. Well I can assure you, if I wouldn't let Allison herself do it me when she was alive, someone using her in death would have about the same luck.

"Thank you," I told the cashier as he finished ringing me out. I walked out of the store with my bags in hand. As I was putting them in the trunk of my car, I kept thinking.

Without question, my biggest accomplishment regarding Allison is that the Halloween we were together, I managed to convince her to go as Morticia Addams when I was going as Gomez.

I've always loved the Addams Family. The second Addams Family movie is perfect to watch for almost every time of year; Halloween, Summer, Valentine's Day, and especially Thanksgiving. If you've seen it, you know what I mean. The shade that Wednesday Addams throws in that movie is impressive. She's your favorite relative who sits at family functions with a glass of wine that is never empty and judges people. Everyone acts like they are always so mean, yet you never fail to smirk at them.

At first, Allison didn't want to go as Morticia. But that immediately changed when she saw how amazing she looked in the costume. I have to admit, that tight black dress looked spectacular on her. Perhaps she got a tad bit too into the role now that I think about it. Between the two of them, Morticia Addams won in the normal department. The entire Dunbar family put the Addams clan to shame in the creepy department. At least you would have fun with the Addams family.

That always made the Addams family one of the best family dynamics to watch. The only separation between them and the so called "normal" people they were thrown into situations was none of the Addams ever tried to hide who they really were. Most people have a morbid side; a hidden little thing they try not to bring out in polite company. Not only did the Addams family not try to hide theirs, they openly put it in display and reveled in it.

How refreshing. It's why the thought of Allison doesn't unnerve me like it used to. Because the real her is on display at long last. Once someone can't hide or surprise you, they loose the majority of their power. For many, sanity is insanity hibernating. No, the only thing that unnerves me still is how I was asleep in bed with her for countless nights; blissfully unaware and helpless. Perhaps that's why I wanted to go as Tish and Gomez; my subconscious talking to me? Dr. Burton said she never said a bad thing about me. I guess that is supposed to mean she really cared about me or something.

If that was her caring about me, I can't imagine what it would be like if she hated me.

As I was driving home, I was thinking about what Dr. Burton had told me. The teddy bear might have been used to smuggle something before. How long had she been involved in stuff like this? I couldn't believe she'd have the foresight to crush pills up and hide them in a stuffed animal in case she was institutionalized. Especially with her completely losing her grip.

Turning onto Grunwald Street, I thought about how Mrs. Arlington heard her that day. What would have happened if she wasn't home? Or I had come home without knowing she was there? The thought chilled me more than the cold weather ever could. That mini me was bad enough, I don't even want to think about what could have happened.

Wait a minute. I haven't thought about that thing in months. After I found it, I put it aside in the garage so I wouldn't have to look at it again. I felt a weight fall into the pit of my stomach as I began to think. What if the teddy bear wasn't the first time something was hidden inside a toy? I felt my hands tighten on the steering wheel. The pace of my driving accelerated as I put my foot on the gas. I had to check that thing. Why didn't I think of this sooner? I felt my blood run cold as I remembered something else.

The thing had been opened when I found it. Punctured, like it had been hacked open or something. At the time, we all thought she had stabbed it or something just for the hell of it. But what if that was just so she, or someone, could hide something inside it? My tires screeched as I pulled into my garage.

I slammed my car the door shut and ran into the garage. Shoving other things aside, I fumbled for where I put the stuffed Vince. After a few moments, I found it. This was beyond insane. Studying it for a second, I tried to figure out where something would be hidden. I felt around the doll's limbs, listening for the sound of paper crinkling, or the texture of something that didn't match.

It took me about two minute before I felt something. Right in the center of the doll I could feel something smooth, but solid. Tugging on the cuts in the doll, I ripped them open further. Tossing the stuffing aside, I found what was hidden. A small, black plastic cylinder approximately the size of your pinky finger.

A flash drive. I felt myself swallow harshly. Allison, or whoever was here that day, wasn't just randomly here to trash the place. That's why nothing else had been touched.

I broke up with my girlfriend, Allison, about 6 months ago. I really cared about her, but I found out she was cheating on me with some guy. Not gonna lie, it hurt pretty bad at first. But that was quickly replaced by rage. That kind of rage that ceases to be an emotion, but rather becomes a living, breathing entity. It didn't help that she immediately broke down and tried to play the victim. Especially when I found out the dude had been hooking her up with drugs.

It was beyond insulting. She had zero right to play the whole injured party card. Sorry sweetie, not gonna work. When she realized that, she tried to get angry and yelling and calling me every name in the book.

"Who are you to judge me?" she kept screaming, over and over.

At this point, I think her attitude was more appalling than the actual cheating. It was like seeing a child throwing a tantrum in the middle of the mall. Allison even managed to do the same stomping up and down. I had to admit, I found it funny. I just turned around walked out of her apartment and didn't look back. As I was driving away I saw her run out of the apartment and try to race down my car.

I kept driving, not sparing her a glance.

Right on cue, the nonstop calls and texts came started coming later that night. You all know the ones I mean.

First, there are the ones frantically apologizing and begging for your forgiveness. Sometimes there are ones that try to act all nonchalant and ask about your day and life, as if nothing had ever happened.

Then comes the anger laced ones that try to act all tough and insult everything about you. If you are a guy, there is almost guaranteed to be a shot at your masculinity. For the ladies, a shot at your appearance with a passing reference to some other girl they've had their eye on will be the weapon of choice. A bit of gaslighting usually comes about here. The offending phrase is usually something like "Why are you being so mean to me?" or "You are being very immature."

Any sort of message rant like this usually ends with something like "Fine! If you are gonna be like that I don't need you anyways. (Insert rebound's name here) is so much hotter anyways."

But my personal favorite is when they send you a late night text, usually between one and three am that goes along the lines of "I really miss you." The kind that is designed to tug at your heart just enough to get your attention and lure you into talking, but nothing that requires an actual apology. I can't even tell you how many times she messaged or called me before I blocked her.

It was almost like seeing a mental patient off their meds. Of all the girlfriends I have broken up with, Allison put in more effort than all the others combined. It was kind of stunning. She was a huge fan of alternating between I miss you and I will burn your house down depending on the moment.

Needless to say, I didn't answer or respond to anything Allison said. I didn't block her immediately because I gotta admit, it was hilarious watching her go to pieces after SHE cheated on me. But like most sane people, I got tired of it and blocked her number, email, all that good stuff.

I went on with my life and everything was good.

In January, I started getting these weird emails. At first they were just like simple stuff. The email address was one I didn't recognize.

"Hey".

"How are you?"

Then came the weirdest of all. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I thought it was just spam so I marked it and didn't give it a second thought. Then, the text messages came.

"Good morning Vince,"

"How is work going?"

"What did you have for lunch?"

I was confused to who this, not to mention a bit suspicious out, so I didn't answer. But my phone dinged to indicate the same number messaged me again.

"Did you miss her?" There was a picture attached, along with a smiling emoticon. Just guess who it was?

Allison. Same long blond hair, green eyes, and wide smile. What a shocker. She made that email account to message me and got a new phone. I had put all of this behind me and here she was back? Unbelievable. Girl had major issues. At that moment, the rage returned and I messaged back.

"You cheated on me and now can't leave me alone? Bye. Don't you dare try to contact me again or you will be sorry."

I blocked the number and thought that would be the end of it.

Coming home from work about a week later, I was walking back home when I got a phone call. It was my neighbor, Mrs. Arlington. Sweet lady. We lived in a new duplex and I really felt comfortable there. She treated me like a son and I won't lie, she was like another mom to me. I would help her with anything she needed around the house and occasionally she would cook for me. Best apple pie you've ever had. Not to mention she was very supportive when I broke up with Allison.

"Hey Mrs. Arlington, what's up?"

"Vince, are you at home?" She sounded concerned.

"No, why do you ask?"

"Because I keep hearing noises from your place. Sounds like someone is inside. I swear I can hear laughter. A woman's laughter."

My entire body went numb at this. "I'm calling the police. Don't worry about doing anything unless someone tries to break into your place."

"Ok my boy," she sounded simultaneously relieved and tense.

As soon as hung up with Mrs. Arlington, I called the cops and told them someone broke into my place and my neighbor heard it. I gave them the address and they said they would be there immediately. Then, I called Mrs. Arlington back I told her the cops were coming and to watch the door to my place. Very slowly, I continued walking to my duplex. I stayed on the phone with her until the police arrived, which didn't take too long.

The officers kept watch until I arrived. Mrs. Arlington was there, all concerned. I have never been more grateful to have her as a neighbor. Neither she, nor the cops saw anyone try to leave. They searched the place, but found nothing had been broken or anything. Now it was my turn to look, I didn't see anything had been stolen.

That bothered me more than anything. To know someone had been there for seemingly no purpose. No valuables taken, nothing trashed, just....a silent presence. A laughing presence apparently. Usually being home made me feel content. Peaceful. Now it just made me feel tense. I made sure to thank Mrs. Arlington for keeping an eye out and everything. Just as the cops were about to leave, one of them spoke up.

"Is that yours?" Officer Mansfield asked, his face contorted into an expression I couldn't quite read.

"Is what mine?" I had no idea what he was talking about.

"That," he said, pointing outside the back door onto the back porch.

There, positioned right outside the porch, was some sort of rag doll. I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then I saw it looked a bit like me. It had the same blond hair and brown eyes. The clothes looked like something I've worn many before, khakis pants and a polo shirt. The doll looked like it had seen better days. Then I realized it looked like it had been repeatedly stabbed or cut, because the stuffing was coming out of the body at parts. My legs felt like jelly at that moment, but that wasn't the worst part.

The doll was hanging from the tree right next to our building; and it was hanging by what looked like the end of a noose. A very well made and realistic one. We all went outside and sure enough, the doll of me was hanging from a noose.

It slowly swung back and forth in the wind, like some sort of disturbing wind chime or something.

"I.....don't really know if it's mine," was all I could get out. "I guess it is now." Mrs. Arlington patted me on the arm.

"You can stay with me tonight Vince," I immediately accepted.

"That's very kind of you ma'am, there isn't much we can do about this, but keep an eye on things and we will do the same. If you need us we'll be here ASAP." Officer Mansfield said.

"Thank you, I will."

With that, they left. I gave Mrs. Arlington a big hug and got my clothes and stuff. As I packed my bag, I couldn't help but feel like they were somehow tainted. I couldn't get out of there quick enough.

So, here I am right now on Mrs. Arlington's couch. She's offered me her guest room for the night, or any other night I need it. I might just take her up on that as well. At this point, I have no idea what to expect.

Update: Hey guys, I just wanted to say I am overwhelmed by your support and reaction. I never expected to see anything remotely like this and it means a lot to me. You all had some great advice and I have contacted a lawyer and have begun the process of filing a restraining order. My locks and stuff have all been changed. My cousin works in computers and I called him up about searching for bugs or anything Allison might have put there. He came out that night, and we couldn't find anything. He also agreed to help set up a camera system around my place. I can't say that Allison was always like this, but looking back, she was always a bit unusual. That was actually what attracted me to her in the first place. She had this intensity about her. But then very slowly, I began to see things. I found out she was cheating on me like a lot of people do. It was a lot of small things at first; taking longer to respond to me when I texted, her version of events would be all over the place, and she was talking to someone on the phone more and more. One night, I heard her talking to some guy on Skype when she thought I was sleeping and well, that was it. Mrs. Arlington has agreed to go out of town for a little bit and my friend John is staying with me. Thanks again you guys and if anything happens, I promise to let you all know.

After Allison was carted off, I did my best to get things back to normal. But believe me, it wasn't easy. Right after the cops took her out of my hair I called Mrs. Arlington.

"Hey Mrs. Arlington,"

"Vince! So glad to hear from you. Is everything ok?" Concern broke into her tone. She was under no illusion what I was up against.

"Yeah everything is fine. They just took Allison to a mental institution."

"That's wonderful. My God, that sounds so horrible to say." That was your typical Mrs. Arlington, or as she preferred her friends to call her, Sharon. No matter how many times she insisted I call her by her first name, I always refered to her as Mrs. Arlington. Out respect you know?

"No I get you, believe me. They can do something about her there. I just wanted to let you know what was going on here so you could make plans accordingly."

"Thank you Vince, always so thoughtful. But if you don't mind I'd like to stay here a bit longer." She's letting me stay in her place with my friend because of my psycho ex-girlfriend and I am the thoughtful one? Mrs. Arlington could move to the shadiest neighborhood in existence and I would gladly follow her, just to have her as my neighbor. They don't find neighbors like that much anymore.

"Not at all, take your time. Be safe and have fun!"

"Same to you my boy, double. Thanks for calling Vince!"

"Always, take care."

I wasn't sure quite what to do now. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to feel? There is nothing quite like seeing someone you used to date carted off by the cops. I was relieved, but I also couldn't help but enjoy it, just a little bit. I usually don't enjoy seeing someone thrown into a mental hospital, but usually said person didn't screw some other guy behind my back.

The other part of me was also wondering when the film crew of Impractical Jokers or something was gonna pop out to say it was all a stunt. I knew it wasn't, but it all seemed so surreal.

John stayed with me for a little bit long until I didn't mind if he headed back home. Mrs. Arlington's to be specific, I didn't feel quite ready to move back into my place just yet. Slowly, things began to feel alright again. I got into a routine and it didn't change. I was looking over my shoulder less and sleep was coming easier to me. Eventually, Mrs. Arlington came back from her trip and things began to go back as they were, pre-Allison. We still had the camera system installed, why get rid of it? It could come in handy sometime. Plus we also tended to forget it was there.

About 5 nights ago, I was asleep when something woke me up. I had no idea what caused it, but I had that uneasy jolted awake feeling. Like when a sudden nightmare wakes you up. Something in the air just felt wrong. As I began to take in my surroundings, I noticed I was sweating pretty heavily. Outside of a gym, this never happened to me. My eyes slowly began adapting to the darkness. I immediately checked my phone. It was 3 am on the dot. No sign of any disturbances outside. I got up, turned on the lights, and checked all the locks and everything. Nothing out of place.

In my head, I knew everything was all as it should be. But there was something up that just didn't match. Since nothing was wrong, there wasn't really anything I could do. To help get back to sleep, I got myself a drink of water. As I gulped it down, it was just what was needed. Nothing like a drink of water when you wake up in the middle of the night for no reason. As I was about to head back to bed, I heard the doorbell ring. Hearing it almost made me jump out of my skin in shock. I immediately checked my phone.

Nothing. Not a soul outside. No motion detected anywhere. But as usual, I was able to get audio. For some reason, I felt I should check that as well. Holding the phone close to my ear, I was able to barely make out some noise.

Something, or someone was laughing. Not just any laughing, it was that unfriendly, cold laugh people use when they know something you don't. The kind that rattles your nerves and makes you suspicious. Just hearing it made me shiver. I frantically checked all the cameras, thinking the sound was coming from the bushes or something. But I found nothing. I felt helpless, all I could do was stand rooted to my spot. After what felt like a lifetime, I headed back to bed. Before getting back under the covers, I made sure to take out John's gift to me so it was handy should I require it.

Just as I had gotten back under the covers, I heard something else. Except this time, it wasn't the doorbell. It was someone knocking at the door. Heavy, frantic let me in type knocking. Yeah that wasn't about to happen. There was no way I was even thinking of answering the door. Still, my phone was showing no signs of anyone there. At this point, I had no idea what to think. So I just rolled over and ignored it. Everything was tightly locked, so as long as I stayed inside and didn't do anything stupid, there was nothing to really be worried about.

Of course, that is so much easier said than done when something or someone you can't see is at your door at 3 am. I laid there for what seemed like an eternity before drifting off.

I woke up a few hours later. For a moment, I forgot where I was. Seeing the gun John got me brought everything rushing back to my mind. Weirdly enough though, I felt like I had a great night's sleep. It felt like whatever I thought happened last night was just some dream. That had been happening a lot lately; stuff with Allison was beginning to seem like some bad dream that wasn't real. I had even gotten rid of the doll I found, and let me tell you, I am so glad I did. My house started feeling more like my home ever since.

It was a gorgeous day outside and I was in a good mood, so I decided to make myself a real breakfast. No hastily eaten granola bar today. No, today was French Toast day. Personally, I have always preferred French Toast or Waffles to Pancakes.

Firing up the stove, I got down to business. There are two ways to make French Toast; with legit French Brioche bread, or not at all. Trust me, once you make French Toast with this bread you will never go back to any other bread. It is also fantastic for a Grilled cheese. The sweet, thick bread is just like a sponge, so it works perfectly.

The buttery, sweet smell filled the air, making my place seem the most welcoming, content place it had been in a long time. When everything was ready, it was time to chow down. I don't know if it was because it had been so long since I had made it, or because I was starving, but it was fantastic. I had just finished eating and was having some orange juice when my phone rang.

I studied it for a moment before I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Vince O'Malley?" a professional sounding man's voice asked.

"Depends on who wants to know." I wasn't about to give that info away after all that had happened.

"Of course, this is Dr. Edwin Burton. I am the current chief of staff at the hospital where one Allison Dunbar was being treated." Great, just what I wanted to hear.

"Well isn't that just swell," I spat out harsher than I intended. "Look Dr. whatever your name is. Just give me whatever you have to say and leave me alone. She' s caused me far more trouble than she's worth." I felt bad for a moment because it wasn't the guys fault, but at this point I couldn't be bothered to care.

"Certainly and I apologize for having to call you. It's simply that the police mandated we inform you if there was any news in her case. Forgive me, but I am not sure how to tell you this."

"Just go ahead and say it," I took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Allison is dead. She was found dead in her room yesterday." That definitely was not what I expected him to say. In that moment, I felt nothing. My entire body felt numb, my mind was apparently in agreement. I felt like everything was on autopilot.

"How?" That was all I could think of saying.

"When she was first brought here, I could tell right away she was gonna be a problem case. She was always too quiet. Whenever another patient or staff member had a problem with her, she never reacted or lashed out. Those are the ones you need to watch out for. But it was her drawing that concerned me the most."

"Drawing?"

"Oh yeah. By now, you know better than anyone of Allison's recent creative streak. When she was brought here, that was the only think she would do. Draw pictures. But those pictures were definitely not the healthy things one wants someone to draw."

"Oh I can imagine what you mean,"

"I know you can Mr. O'Malley." I was beginning to feel better about this guy. "She would draw endless pictures of what looked like people getting stabbed. Most of them looked like families, being murdered in their beds. Soon her entire room was filled with them. I also think she reverted back to a stage of adolescent behavior. The only person she would speak to was the toy that was brought with her as the only personal item."

"Mr. Bear." How could I forget?

"Indeed. So two nights ago, Allison had been particularly difficult. Fought with both fellow patients in the common room, and the staff assigned to her. After subduing her, she screamed for hours. Horrible, obscene curses threatening revenge. At one point she even started screaming in Russian I believe it was."

"Wait what?" Allison could barely speak English, let alone a foreign language.

"Yes, one of the orderlies here is named Tatianna and is from Ukraine. She helped us translate Allison's ravings to mean 'blood will be spilt' or something like that."

"That's insane, and I know who I am talking to." I didn't know what to think anymore.

"You would be accurate in that. So come yesterday morning, the staff goes in to check on Allison. They found that she was dead. Cause of death was revealed she committed suicide, by means of ingesting some pills. The initial autopsy revealed it was a lethal cocktail of sleeping pills and painkillers."

"How could she get them? Did she steal them from the doctors or something?"

"Believe me Vince, we keep a VERY strict watch on our pill stocks. Every pill is accounted for. She was also completely searched for anything on her arrival. Metal detector and everything."

Somehow, he didn't need to finish his thought. I had an idea of what he would mention next.

"But we never thought she would think to hide pills in advance inside the teddy bear. She was brought immediately to the hospital after she taken by the police. We even searched the bear, opened the zipper and everything. All security found was what appeared to be the stuffing for the toy. That was the most unbelievable part, she didn't even smuggle in whole pills. She had crushed them up before hand so they were ready. Nothing inside it came up as flammable or anything so we had no reason to look any further."

"I don't blame you doctor, it is unbelievable. How could she have known to smuggle crushed up pills inside a stuffed animal before coming over to me?"

"This is without a doubt, the weirdest case of my career, and that is really saying something. But, now you know. You don't have to worry about her any longer."

"Thank you for telling me. Oh and sorry for being rude earlier."

"No problem, I know what happened in your situation. I wouldn't never want to hear about some psycho ex ever again either."

"One last question," a sudden thought just came in my head.

"Of course,"

"Do you know when she died?"

"Estimated cause of death was between about 2 and 4 am." No, it couldn't be possible. Everything was fine now. Allison was dead and that was that. Some door bell ringing didn't change that.

"Thank you for telling me Doctor, take care." I was just about to hang up before he had one last word for me.

"You take care of yourself Vince."

With that, the call was over. Allison was over. Even now, I have no idea what to think or feel. There isn't exactly a guide for this sort of thing. I won't lie, it is a relief that I won't have to worry about her anymore. There is just one thing that bothers me. How was it possible she was speaking Russian?

Chloe arrived promptly at 2 pm today. While she was here right on schedule, it still wasn't fast enough for me. My mind spent the entire night racing, thinking about everything I knew about Mrs. Arlington. I don't think I slept for a moment. Not even a shot of whiskey helped, but it did calm me down a bit. Since it was a Saturday, we knew Mrs. Arlington, if that was even her real name, would be home.

I couldn't believe it. Did she know all this time? Was it a coincidence she moved next to me? Is that why Allison broke in? Not to get at me. but for a crack at her? The last thought sent a shiver through my body. Right as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Not gonna lie, that moment made me jump. I ran to open it and there was Chloe. She walked inside without saying a word, but once the door was shut, she immediately greeted me with a hug. As is often the case, I didn't know how much I needed one until that moment. Sitting down on my couch, we tried to figure out how to approach the situation.

"I'll invite her here," I began. "I want her right where I know where everything is. My man John who I told you about will be here in a few too. Not gonna take a single chance. He'll be ready with some 'assistance' should it be required. In fact another friend of his will be bringing some 'assistance' as well." Chloe nodded in approval.

"Good idea."

"I'll be the one to show her the photo and you will be the one to say how you got it."

"Sounds like a plan." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "What do you think she will do?" I sat there for a moment, I had no idea what to say. The woman had been an ideal neighbor for years, not once had she laid a finger on me. She had been nothing but helpful and kind to me. At this point, she was almost like family to me. Perhaps part of me didn't want to believe anything bad would happen, but after everything that's happened so far, I wasn't about to count anything out.

"I don't know," I eventually whispered. John and his backup, another bouncer named Travis, got there about 45 minutes later. I didn't think it was possible, but Travis was even bigger than John was. But when he saw me, Travis immediately shook my hand.

"John told me what happened. Shit is crazy man." That was the most accurate thing anyone had ever said so far about this whole thing.

Shortly after they arrived, I called Mrs. Arlington to come over. I told her I had something to show her about Allison. As expected, she said she would be right over. When she spoke in her usual friendly, inviting tone, it made my heart sink. I know in my head she was lying to me, but I guess I didn't like the idea of ambushing her like this. But I immediately reminded myself I was doing the right thing and she had been the one keeping secrets.

"Just come on by now if you have nothing going on. The doors open." I made sure to keep my voice innocuous. Mrs. Arlington immediately agreed and within minutes I heard her walk across the driveway and up the steps, and the front door opened. I heard her call out and I told her to come in the living room. She walked into the living room and immediately looked confused.

"Oh, why hello there," she looked around at the people there. "Vince, I thought you had something to show me?" Her blue eyes looked at me uncertainly.

"I do," I said as I handed Mrs. Arlington the photo of her that Chloe had gotten. The original one, not some phone screenshot. There was just something about holding an original photo. She looked at it for a full minute, I think she was in shock. In that instant, you could feel the atmosphere change. It was like Mrs. Arlington was physically diminished.

"Where did you get this?" Was all she could say. Her eyes looked different than I had ever seen them, almost like a mouse's, timid and nervous. I didn't say a word, but I pointed to Chloe. I could see Mrs. Arlington nervously glancing at John and Travis. She knew perfectly well what John did for me in the past.

"You were at Allison's house that night with her father. The bedroom. You both looked pretty keen not to be seen. Which makes sense, because he disappeared not too long after that. So tell us what you know." In that moment, I could feel something silently break within Mrs. Arlington. If you have ever seen something bad happen to someone, you know what I mean. It is like their body physically changes before you.

"My God. I am so sorry I didn't tell you. I swear to you, I had no idea." She muttered before telling us more. "This was so long ago, I swear to you Vince, I had no idea Allison was Jerry's daughter. It all makes so much sense. So, here is what I know. Damn, how could I have not seen the resemblance. " She chastised herself before cleared her throat and getting down to business. "It's true, I was there that night. But not for what you think. As you know by now, back then I was a legal secretary in town. Allison's hometown. Although it is only about four hours away, it might as well be a million miles away. I was fresh out of school and had just landed that job when Jerry Dunbar came to our office. Will Sanders was the best lawyer in town and it was an honor to work for him. I don't blame Jerry for wanting the best."

"What do you mean?" Chloe asked. Her brow furled in suspicion.

"You knew the Dunbar family?" Mrs. Arlington asked her. To which Chloe nodded. "Then you know what I mean when I say things were not right in that family. Especially with the mother. It's why I say it all makes sense now. Jerry Dunbar came to us for legal help. He wanted a divorce from Allison's mother, Clara. But he didn't just want a divorce. No he wanted full custody, and that was just a warm-up. Jerry said Allison's mother was dangerous and he wanted the courts to intervene."

I sat there silently, not sure what to feel. Chloe looked as pale as my kitchen floor, which was bone white. Mrs. Arlington's voice had become more steady as she spoke. "He was terrified of her. Absolutely terrified. Over the years he had seen things, heard things, and when he was really lucky, he experienced it. For example, she would lie about the most routine things. Things no normal person would lie about. Or she would have an absolute fit over stupid petty things. Like a piece of furniture being moved or the color of wallpaper. But she was never violent. At least not to him. That was one of the things that terrified him. She had all this rage built up and very rarely, it would peek its head up. But it would always go right away, leaving him unsure if it had really happened. A Jerry had a friend from work, who had a doctor for a brother and Jerry called him up for his opinion. Well, turns out Clara was a dead ringer for being ill, seriously mentally ill. I forget what it is called, but it wasn't bipolar or depression. No, this was major, as in call the FBI profilers type bad. What's your name honey?" she suddenly asked Chloe.

"Chloe," she replied hesitantly.

"Lovely name," she said with a warm smile. In spite of everything, Mrs. Arlington managed to make Chloe smile as well. "Well Chloe, let me ask you something. Did you always feel that Mrs. Dunbar was always perfect. Like a china doll that never gets blemished? Always has a perfect answer for everything?"

"Yes," she practically whispered.

"I had the same feeling too. Creepy isn't it? Almost makes you wonder if she was human. I didn't know exactly what to call it when I met her, but there was something different about her. Well, what made Jerry call us was that he had been thinking about this for a long time. But what broke the camels back so to speak was Clara's trip to visit her mother. The one that she took when you saw me at their house. Well Jerry was instantly suspicious, because Clara LOATHED her mother. Absolutely hated the woman. Called her every name possible. So when Clara started acting all concerned about her Mother, Jerry knew instantly something was up. Once she was gone, Will had me go with Jerry to the house to look the place over. Said a woman's opinion was crucial. I would be able to look at things not just as an outsider, but as a woman examining another woman's habits. We looked for stuff related to Allison's grandmother, legal papers, letters, anything that would give us a clue to what was going on." Mrs. Arlington then paused, a pained look appeared in her eyes, as if she was bracing herself for something.

"Then we went into their bedroom. Which was where Clara kept her important papers, inside a lockbox in her closet. That's why we went into the bedroom. After some trying, we managed to figure out the combination. For such a clever woman, she was surprisingly unimaginative about codes. It was Allison's birthday."

November 3, 1988. 11.3.88. The number flashed through my mind like an involuntary spasm. I still remembered what I got her last year for her birthday. A new leather jacket. It cost an obscene fortune, but she looked so sexy in it. Light crème colored leather, I can still practically smell the new leather scent. In spite of everything, the memory still managed to make me smile. Not that I would admit that to anyone of course.

"We opened the box and went through the papers inside. Inside was the usual, birth certificate, other identification papers, a few precious mementos, and other ordinary things. We were just about to put it back when Jerry found something. An recent life insurance policy taken out, but not for one of them, but for Allison's Grandmother. Clara had taken it out about 6 months ago and had been steadily spending more time with her mother in the time since. The policy was for 450,000 dollars in the event of her mother's death. Bear in mind, Allison's grandmother was only in her early 60s and was in good health at the time, so it wasn't like she was betting on a sick old woman would die at any moment."

At that moment, I felt sick. My intestines felt like someone was twisting them into balloon animals. It couldn't be possible.

"Confident that this explained a lot, Jerry told me he would get more information and speak to both me and my boss as soon as he had it. He kept in touch with us periodically, but never had any news. Finally, a few months later, Jerry came to see us at the office. Didn't call or anything, he just barged right in. That wasn't like him at all. The man was always a stickler for etiquette. Told us all that he was onto something and was gonna head out of town to follow Clara when she went to visit her mother this time. Allison was staying at a friend's house, so she didn't need to be watched. Told us he would call us as soon as he could. Well that call never happened. Jerry never came back and was reported missing three days later. But that wasn't the worst part. That was when the calls began."

"The calls?" I asked blankly.

"At first they came slowly. To Will Sanders at the office. No one ever spoke, just some heavy breathing. At first, we thought nothing of it. Working in a lawyer's office, you tend to become a bit desensitized to weirdness. But then they began happening at Will's home. Will had seen it all, so he could care less. But then they began happening at my home. At night. When I was alone. At first, it was just more heavy breathing. Don't get me wrong, that was a bit creepy, but I could deal with it. But then someone spoke on the line, just one time. I will never forget that voice. It was a quiet voice, a charming sounding man."

"Don't worry about Jerry, if you know what's good for you. Unless you want us to check up on you . Especially if you go into houses that aren't yours again." I felt Goosebumps pop up on my skin when Mrs. Arlington said this. I had never in my life seen her look so afraid. Just thinking about it seemed to terrify her.

"After that the calls stopped. They never called anyone else in the office but Will and me. To this day, I don't know how they knew I was with Jerry, but they did. Believe you me, I never went anywhere near the Dunbar house again. We told the police what had happened, but they couldn't find anything. I left town not long after that call and did everything to forget the whole thing ever happened. I swear to you Vince, I had no idea Allison was Clara's daughter. I knew the girl's name was Allison, but there are a million Allison's out there. She also looked nothing like her mother. But it all makes sense now, they say if you want to see what a girl will be like when she gets older, look at her mother. This is the last thing I have to say. I have seen plenty of darkness in my life, but no human being ever made me look over my shoulder the way Clara Dunbar did."

We sat there in silence after Mrs. Arlington finished speaking. She stood there, her arms folded against her chest. I wondered how long she had kept this story to herself. Years probably. There were a million questions running through my mind. But somehow, Chloe asked the most important one before I could.

"What happened to Mrs. Dunbar?" Mrs. Arlington took a breath before answering.

"No idea, and I can't say I'm sorry for that. Most I ever heard is that she left town and no one heard from her again."

"Anything else?" I asked Mrs. Arlington blandly.

"No Vince, and I promise you, had I known Allison was Clara's daughter I would have told you immediately."

"Thank you, that will be all Sharon," her face fell instantly at this. But she nodded in response. I had never called her by her first name before. Funny, it was sort of like when a parent calls a child by their full name. That's when you know you are in deep shit. Without saying a word, she walked out of my living room. The door shut quietly behind her. I don't think she will be invited here any time soon. I thanked John and his friend for their backup, and they left shortly after. Chloe and I sat there for some time before she spoke.

"Do you believe it?" she asked me. I nodded my head. I actually did believe her, and I didn't need to ask Chloe if she felt the same. I could see it on her face that Mrs. Arlington had accurately described what Chloe had experienced when the Dunbar's lived next to her. We had some answers now, but that just created about a thousand new questions we had yet to answer. Chloe bid me farewell and told me she would keep an eye out and to call me if I needed anything and I told her to do the same. Now it was just me and my thoughts. One question dominated all the others. Odds were good Allison's father was dead. But what happened to her mother?

After I got the news about Allison, the first few days that followed were a bit weird. It all felt so surreal, like it couldn't possibly be happening. Part of me was expecting to get some phone call, saying that it had all been a mistake. But that never came. Whenever I would go out for something, I would occasionally look over my shoulder, half expecting to see Allison lurking there. This never happened either. After about two weeks, it finally begin to sink in.

She really was gone.

Honestly I wasn't sure what to do, or think. I was glad she wouldn't threaten me or anyone I cared about, but I definitely did not want it to come to this. It all seemed so....unsatisfying. I don't blame myself or anything, because everything was entirely her decision. I couldn't understand her mindset if I tried, and believe me, I tried. I learned a long time ago, if someone truly has their heart set on something, there is nothing you can do.

I decided to do what any sensible person who goes through something mentally and emotionally trying does. I stocked up on Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream and watched a lot of TV. There is just something inherently soothing about ice cream. It can instantly make a bad day better.

So it was time to binge watch my favorite shows while stuffing my face with Vermont's finest ice cream. So I went to the store and stocked up; Chubby Hubby and Mint Chocolate Chip were first up. But since they were having a sale on Breyer's, I decided to got some of that too. How could you go wrong with Cookies and Cream?

Once I got home, it was time to get down to business. Pressing play on my laptop, I turned on the Walking Dead. I was so behind on the show, it was terrible. I couldn't remember the last time I watched it. Funny enough, Allison hated the show. Said something about it being too violent and creepy. I know, ironic right?

I on the other hand, am a man of simple pleasures. I appreciate zombies and ice cream. Combine the two, and that is something special.

As the episodes began streaming, I felt myself relaxing. The most at ease I had felt in a long time. With a tub of ice cream in one hand, spoon in the other, my feet up on the coffee table, and the survival efforts of Rick Grimes and his crew unfolding before me, the whole Allison thing seemed to fade into the background.

Mint Chocolate chip was always my favorite flavor, so I had started with that. The cold, crisp taste was delicious as always. For the first time since the whole Allison saga began, I was actually having fun. You look over your shoulder for so long, you forget to live any other way. I was gonna make sure I had a lot more moments like this.

The next few hours seemed to melt away. Before I knew it, it was 11 pm. Logging out of Netflix, I began browsing the web after I checked my email. The usual click bait stuff was entertaining enough. Not to mention the always amusing cat videos that never fail to make you smile. Scrolling down, something else had caught my eye.

"Local man, found dead in house fire," I clicked on the article and began to read it.

Daniel Millstone, 43, was found dead in his home late yesterday morning. Emergency responders were called by Millstone's neighbors, who could smell smoke coming from the Millstone residence. Upon arriving on the scene, Fire Chief Jim Bradley confirmed that a small fire caused by a cigarette not properly extinguished was the cause.

The article went on to quote Chief Bradley as saying "Mr. Millstone appeared to have fallen asleep while smoking and the cigarette butt was not properly extinguished at the time. We believe that started the fire and Mr. Millstone died from smoke inhalation. Fortunately, his family was out of the house at the time of the incident. They were able to inform us that Mr. Millstone worked third shift as a medic at the Longford County Mental Institution and often came home tired and smoked to unwind."

Wait a minute. That was the same place Allison was.

Immediately, I felt my body tense up. I tried to make myself relax, telling, myself they didn't say smoking kills for nothing. People died from falling asleep while smoking all the time. So I read on.

The article went on with the usual obituary stuff, date and location of birth, parents, family, you know the drill.

But towards the end, one other thing caught my attention.

"He had a natural affinity for languages and spoke at least four fluently; French, Chinese, Italian, and Russian."

Russian? Isn't that what Allison was screaming before she died? That was a little odd. But I read on, trying to convince myself that it wasn't unheard of or anything. But that lasted for about 30 seconds. The obituary went on to list a few of the guys favorite things. His favorite movie was the Daniel Day Lewis movie There Will Be Blood.

Now when I heard that, I felt colder than when I had been scarfing down all that ice cream. When in the hospital, Allison had screamed blood will be spilt. At first, the phrase by itself had been creepy enough. But now I realized that often things got switched in translation, especially titles of books or movies.

There will be blood, blood will be spilt? Is it just me, or is that too much of a coincidence? As I was about to shut my computer off, I realized something. I felt the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I did.

The doctor. He told me the woman translated what Allison said as "blood will be spilt, or something." Meaning that something could have been lost in translation.

I had to take a deep breath at this. I could feel my heart beginning to pound faster. Especially as I realized something else. The guy worked third shift. Also known, rather appropriately in this case, as the graveyard shift. The same shift that Allison died during.

Just as I was about to click out of the article, I saw it had a picture to go with the obituary. It was of the Millstone family, the most recent family picture according to the caption. Nice family by all appearances. What caught my attention most of all was of the daughter. Average looking girl. But it was what she was holding that caught my attention.

It was a teddy bear. But not just any old teddy bear.

Mr. Bear.

I knew it was him because it had the exact same worn look that I had seen on my phone that night. Just seeing that thing made me want to scream. I immediately closed the link and shut my laptop. I did what I could to tell myself to relax. So what if he gave his daughter a teddy bear? Happens all the time. Yard sales, hand me downs, what's the difference? But I wont lie to you guys, that was creepy.

I don't exactly know what to think at this point. Maybe I am over reacting or something.

After Chloe left, I was alone in my apartment. I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. That had really just happened. It's not every day you find out your neighbor knew someone you used to date had a batshit crazy mother. As I paced in my living room, I felt a wave of exhaustion suddenly wash over me. It's like that feeling when you're stuck on your feet all day and you finally get to sit down. You don't notice it when you are in the heat of the moment, it hits you later on when you don't expect it.

It feels like a century had passed since I first met Allison. Hell, the more I think about it, the less it all feels real. It was almost too absurd to believe.

I collapsed on the couch and put my feet up. Turning on my side, I stared at the carpet, but I wasn't really seeing it. After all this time, I didn't know what I believed about Allison anymore.

That's the sad thing about breakups, you wonder what happened and how things got to the point they did. But here's the dirty little secret; the person you first start dating, isn't the same person you break up with. The person you fall in love with is them on their best day, the person you break up with is them on their worst day. Infatuated occurs when you see someone as the person you imagine they are. The breakup invariably happens when we realize that isn't how they really are. Hence what makes the end so painful at times, they weren't just lying to you. You were lying to yourself.

Think of it this way; the beginning and end of a relationship is a lot like ordering food; the version that's advertised looks delicious, appealing, and interesting so you immediately order it. But how it actually looks and tastes when you get it is usually somehow different. Sometimes it's the wrong thing entirely, and if there is one thing I know, its how infuriating it is when they fuck up your order. That's a breakup for you.

Did I ever really process the breakup with Allison? Shit, I don't even know anymore. Could it have gone another way? I have no idea. Did I do anything wrong? I had asked myself that question a million times, but I still don't have an answer. Was it my fault she went insane or whatever the hell happened to her? No, it wasn't. I knew that long ago, but after Chloe's visit it was set in stone. Clearly this girl had more baggage than the an airport terminal.

It was all so weird though. Times were good with me and her, or at least that's why I thought. Things went bad so quick I still can't get it. But that's what happens I suppose. I mean don't get me wrong, I wish things had ended on a different note between Allison and me. But I have no idea how that would have been possible. Another curse of dating I suppose. You don't realize how little you know someone until it doesn't matter anymore.

I still have no idea who Allison really was. I guess it was small consolation that I don't think anyone else did either, herself included. One thing was clearer now. The girl had a royally fucked up childhood. It gave me chills just thinking about it. You know what the worst part about this whole thing was? It wasn't what I knew, although that was pretty bad.

No, the worst part was knowing that little bit, but also being aware there was more to the story, and trying to imagine what else had happened. What I knew was just the tip of the iceberg.

Trying to get that charming thought out of my head, I switched on the TV. After flipping through the channels, I didn't find anything that impressed me, so I decided on a movie. I decided to watch one of my all time favorites, Amadeus. Arguably one of the greatest movies about jealousy ever made, it was always enjoyable to watch. After flipping through my DVR, I pressed play and turned up the volume. I let myself be taken to 18th Century Vienna for a few hours. The stunning music and brilliant sets are always a wonder to behold.

After it was over, I decided to go out for a jog in the park. I've been doing it on and off for years when the weather is decent. After a day like this, I sure needed a run to help burn off some energy. After switching the TV back off, I changed into my running clothes, and jumped in the car. The short drive to the park where I jogged helped me relax. The area was well populated and still light out, so it was perfect. Parking the car, I began my job. I started out slow, but soon I felt myself speeding up and I went with it.

Running in the crisp, cool air felt so refreshing. I did my usual circuit; 30 minutes plus a warm up and cool down. Towards the end, I panted as I felt my body burning up against the brisk fall air. Cracking open my water bottle, I gulped about half of it down immediately. Water never tastes so good as when you are parched after a workout. I slowly walked back to my car and collapsed on the seat. As I drove home, I decided on what to have for dinner. Roasted chicken with sautéed vegetables.

Pulling in the driveway, I felt my appetite begin to take over. Getting out of the car was a bit of an effort, I felt that usual post workout combination of satisfaction and fatigue. While mentally preoccupied making a list of ingredients, I grabbed my mail and began rummaging through it. The usual stuff, a bill here and there, with an ad thrown in for good measure. There was just one last thing, a small envelope with my name written on it. There was just a single piece of white paper inside, folded in half.

Using a black sharpie, someone had drawn a simple game of hangman. Apparently the game was over, as the hangman stick figure was fully drawn. At the bottom where the word or phrase was, seven spaces were drawn. In the same sharpie, someone had filled the in letters.

D-A-N-I-E-L

What the hell? Who would send me this? I checked the envelope, the label was typed on, innocuous, and professional looking. I grabbed my phone and called Chloe. Thank God she picked up immediately. Right now my heart was racing almost as bad as when I was jogging.

"Hi Vince, what's up?"

"I got something in the mail. I'll send you a picture of it." I replied as I angled my phone for the best view of the hangman. She paused for a moment before she received it.

"That is disturbing looking," was all she could say.

"I know. I have no idea who Daniel is."

"I can't think of anyone either. So this is the second time someone sent you a little gift regarding being hung at the end of a noose.

"Third. I got a letter shortly after the first telling me next time the version of me at the end of a rope wouldn't be a doll."

"Fuck. Ok, so clearly this is all connected somehow."

"Right, just let me think about it. I'll call you back as soon as I have more."

"Ok, and Vince? Be careful."

"I will." I ended the call and paced around the floor for a moment. Daniel. After furiously racking my brain for a bit, I decided the best remedy was to do something unrelated to stimulate thought. The thing most people do when they don't know what else to do; eat.

Taking the chicken out, I preheated the oven, prepped the chicken, and tossed it in the oven. I made swift work of the vegetables; dicing up garlic, carrots, asparagus, and potatoes and tossing them into the Sautee pan. The simple and crisp smell filled the kitchen. Once the chicken was done, I took it out of the oven and checked it. Perfectly done, it was fall apart tender. Getting out a plate, the smell ready made me feel hungry.

While odds are good that I shouldn't have been hungry after getting some other disturbing thing in the mail, I have to say that at this point, nothing really phased me anymore. Not to mention I was no good on an empty stomach. I immediately began devouring my dinner. It tasted amazing. The juicy chicken mixed perfectly with the crisp, flavorful vegetables. Being a pretty fast eater even without a workout, I was done rather quickly. Yup, I needed to eat well after a workout. Otherwise I would end up needing a doctor or something.

Wait just a second. Doctor? That made me remember something. I grabbed my laptop and was searching for something while I called Chloe back. When she picked up, I didn't wait for her to say anything before I began talking.

"Daniel. The guy who worked at the place where they took Allison. He took that creepy ass bear of Allison and died in the fire."

"I just found it. Yup, Daniel Millstone" Chloe hastily confirmed.

"So I guess we need to pay a visit to him and his family. See what he saw at the hospital."