Chapter 05

Olivia woke the next day to the news that Allen and his field team had successfully taken out the targets that had come through the Florida gate. Less than forty eight hours from crossover to termination. Not a bad stat to start off their stint under Wynters’ leadership.

“Good news,” she said as Noah and Hayden pulled on their clothes and readied themselves for the day ahead. “Allen and the others mopped up five of these things in Florida last night. Zero issues. Total success.”

“Any idea what they were?” Noah asked as he took her phone to read the message Atticus had sent as well.

“No, but he says they have pictures,” Olivia said as she laced up her sneakers.

“Looks like Wynters actually knows what she’s doing,” Hayden said around his toothbrush.

“Looks like it,” Olivia agreed.

“Well let’s not be the disappointing ones then,” Noah said. “You two can drop me off at that little gas station just outside of town. Shouldn’t take me long to hit everywhere on that stretch of road. I’ll probably end up meeting you two in Doumont.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hayden said, grabbing the car keys off the small desk that sat between the two twin beds and tossing them to Olivia. “Figure Liv and I will just park on Main Street and go our separate ways. Doubt we'll need more than a few hours to canvass, so be back at the car around two. Anything that hints at something being here that shouldn’t be, and we call it in and make scarce. Hold down the fort until the commandos show up. No need to stick our necks out.”

They were out of the small motel room and on the road in twenty minutes. Hayden let Olivia drive, as he usually did. Hayden was many things, but he was a city boy through and through, and you could tell the open road was not a place he was comfortable. Hayden preferred his spaces cramped and crowded it seemed, which fit his personality pretty damn well once you knew him. She dropped Noah off at the gas station that marked the first of the handful of businesses leading into Doumont and fifteen minutes later she and Hayden were pulling into an empty parking spot on Doumont’s main street.

“See you in a bit,” Hayden said with a wink that made her skin crawl. The man had been openly infatuated with her since the first time they’d met and made a fool of himself because of it more often than she’d hoped he would. Without another word he crossed the street and headed into the north side of town.

Happy to be rid of him, Olivia headed south and tried to figure out just what questions to ask and which people she should focus her attention on. She’d faked being a reporter before with varying degrees of success and saw no reason not to try it now. The term journalist was such a loose one these days, she figured it was always worth a go even if it got her some flack from the right wing crowd.

Doumont wasn’t much of a town and the southern side was even more desolate than the north; a bait and tackle shop and diner were the only two businesses on this side of main street that were still open. Three boarded up buildings sat between them and didn’t exactly give the place an inviting look. A general store sat about a half mile behind the bait and tackle shop and the town’s only real neighborhood was just a few blocks from that. Everything else on this side of town was abandoned or had been cleared away after one of the area's many storms.

She decided to start at the diner, mostly because she was starving. Hayden and Noah seemed to be able to live off of gas station food, but not her. She needed some real, warm food, and fast. Walking into the little diner, she joined the only two other patrons in the place, an older man and his wife, in the booths lining the long window that faced main street. Neither looked at the other as they slurped up their grits and sipped their drinks from small, grayish mugs.

“Morning darlin’,” a young waitress said as she set down silverware, a pot of coffee and an empty mug. “What brings you into town today? Can’t say I’ve seen you in here before.”

“Just a little breakfast while I’m passing through,” Olivia said, not thrilled that she already stuck out this much.

“Well we’re glad to have you,” the girl said happily as she filled Olivia's mug. “Most people stop in at Willy’s, out towards Baton Rouge. They’re big on Yelp.”

“I think I’ll have the Hungry Man breakfast,” Olivia said, unsure of how to respond to this giggly young woman. She’d never acted like this at any age and growing older didn’t seem to be helping her understand this type of person any better.

“You looked hungry when I saw ya,” the girl said, scooping up her menu with a wink only slightly less awful than Hayden’s had been.

Olivia watched as the girl put in her order and then went back to reading something on her phone. It seemed like Olivia, the elderly couple, the waitress and the cook were the only people in the building. As Olivia sipped her coffee, she looked out the window at the main street of the little town. Not a single car passed by in the ten minutes it took for her food to make it out to the table.

“So how’s life going in...Doumont is it?” Olivia asked the waitress as she shoveled scrambled eggs into her mouth. Now this was food.

“Oh more or less the same as it always is I guess,” the girl said, leaning on Olivia’s table as Olivia continued to dig into her more than adequate breakfast. “People come and go around here. As I’m sure you noticed, ain’t much going on in Doumont.”

“Nothing exciting at all?” Olivia asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Not to my knowledge,” the girl said. “Same old, same old.”

Olivia finished her meal, paid and left the little diner. She hadn’t learned much over breakfast, but she was full and that was encouraging. The fact that the waitress hadn’t noticed anything odd didn’t surprise her. The girl had been glued to her phone every second she wasn’t talking to Olivia and seemed young enough to still be in high school. Olivia might not have been so giggly at that age, but she hadn’t really been tuned into the goings on around town either.

With limited options, she decided to cut through the little residential area behind the diner, stop in at the general store and then end her circuit at the bait shop. As she made her way past a battered old sign that said, Welcome to Doumont Plantation, she saw that these little houses weren’t much better off than the buildings on main street. Every other house seemed vacant and the ones that had cars or people out front didn’t look much different outside of being obviously occupied. She waved at a few of the porch sitters, mostly older folks, as she walked by, but none of them returned her greeting. Instead they watched her like hawks as she passed through their quiet little neighborhood. Any ideas she’d had about asking the folks in this area questions concerning their sleepy little town quickly dissipated.

Emerging from the neighborhood unscathed, but less confident in her ability to gather information than before, Olivia crossed an open field to the little general store that served as the town’s main focal point this side of the highway. The large parking lot was virtually empty and of the cars that were present, most struck her as employee vehicles. Figuring she may as well poke around anyway, she ducked into the store.

The inside was as rough as the outside. Bargain bins full of random items dotted the store’s aisles and open spaces while half the shelves were either unstocked entirely or in complete disarray. There were three employees that she could see as she did a lap around the odd little mart. An older woman, a manager it seemed, was walking the store with a little clipboard. She seemed irate enough as it was and Olivia did her best to avoid the woman as she perused the store. The other two were cashiers; one was a younger guy with some pretty unfortunate tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin sans his face, which was no joy to look at either, and the other was an older man who seemed on the verge of falling asleep where he stood. Olivia looked to be the store’s sole customer, but still no one seemed bothered to address or acknowledge her in any way.

Grabbing a vitamin water and some gum, she walked up to the younger man and plopped down her purchases in front of him. “That gonna be all?” he asked in a nasally voice.

“Should do it,” she said as she handed the man a five dollar bill. As he handed her her change, Olivia leaned towards him and asked, “Seems pretty dead in here, you able to sneak a cigarette?”

The man looked surprised at first, but soon that expression gave way to a smug one Olivia knew all too well. “I can dip for a minute or two, sure” he said cockily as he ducked out from behind his register. “Keep an eye out for the old bitch, will you Tom?” he said to the older man as he followed Olivia outside into the nearly abandoned parking lot. Once outdoors, they walked around to the side of the building shielded from the road and the man offered her a cigarette.

“No thanks,” Olivia said to the man’s confusion. “I don’t smoke. I wasn’t exactly being honest in there. I’m actually a reporter for a major news website focused on increasing coverage in America’s rural areas. You guys don’t have a local paper of your own do you...Vince,” she said, reading his nametag.

“Not really,” Vince said, lighting the cig he’d offered her and placing it in his own mouth. “USA Today with a few local pieces from the Baton Rouge or New Orleans area, but nothing about Doumont ever makes the papers. The parish pops up once in a while after a bad storm, because of the flooding and all, but never Doumont itself. Not much going on around here.”

“Nothing at all?” Olivia said. “I find that hard to believe. Wherever there are enough people, stuff is happening.”

“Well I guess you’re right about that,” Vince said, inhaling deeply. “Now that you mention it, people have seemed a little off lately. Irate you might say.”

“This a recent development?” Olivia said halfheartedly. She wasn’t interested in a recent spat of rude old ladies in the grocery line, awful as they might be.

“I guess so,” Vince mused around his cig. “Been in the last month or two. Locals are usually pretty friendly around here, even the cops aren’t half bad, but recently everyone’s seemed on edge. Might be some budget shit or something to do with the school closing, I don’t know.”

“The school is closing?” Olivia asked.

“Not enough kids and no teachers worth a shit from what I hear,” Vince said. “Not surprising, half these little swamp kids never make it out of middle school. Going to start busing the kids that do wanna learn to Baton Rouge next year. Long drive. People aren’t happy.”

Olivia didn’t like to hear that the town was having problems, but this really wasn’t what she was looking for. All of this, no matter how depressing, was totally normal for a place like Doumont. She’d seen hundreds of places like this around the country; old towns with dwindling populations evaporating slowly but surely off the map.

“What in the hell are you doing out here Vincent?” the one of the most cajun voices Olivia had ever heard shouted from behind her. Turning to see what had made Vince’s already pallid face even paler, Olivia saw the dumpy little manager marching towards them.

“Afternoon ma’am,” Olivia said.

“And who might you be?” the woman, Trish her name tag said, spat at her.

“She’s a reporter trying to see if anything worth writing about was happenin’ here in Doumont,” Vince said defensively. “No one was in the store so I figured I could give her a little info.”

“A journalist eh,” the woman said, saying the word as though it was a slur. “Peddler of fake news and enemy of the people. You and your kind can stay out of places like Doumont. We don’t need you spreadin’ lies and tall tales. Take that garbage back to New York or California or wherever you came from.” The woman ended her tirade by spitting inches from Olivia’s tennis shoes.

Crossing the distance between them in seconds, Olivia placed herself inches from the frumpy woman’s nose. “I understand some people down here are going to have run of the mill hayseed opinions, but if you spit at me again woman, I’ll tear your tongue out with my bare hands. You don’t have to like me, but you will tolerate me like an adult. Are we clear, Trish?”

The woman sized her up for a moment, but seemed to realize a physical altercation with Olivia was not one she would come out well in. “Get inside Vincent,” she snapped at the man behind Olivia. “And you get the hell off our lot. You’re barred! Banned! If I see you again I’ll call the police. Let them show you how things work outside of the big city.”

“Like I’d ever come back to this shithole,” Olivia muttered as she turned her back on the nasty woman. “Sorry for the trouble Vince.”

“Not your fault. She’s always like that,” Vince said as he sulked past her and back to his post.

“I better not see you round here again girl!” the woman called as Olivia left the parking lot behind and made her way towards the bait shop.

“You won’t, you old cunt!” Olivia called back and she flashed the woman her middle finger.

The woman returned the gesture with feeling before waddling back into the dilapidated store.

Olivia looked at her watch and saw that it was barely noon. Unless the next visit was ten times as fruitful as her last few, she was going to have a fair amount of downtime before the others would be ready to meet her at the car. Normally this wouldn’t bother her, but she had already developed a strong disdain for this place and was ready to leave it behind if nothing promising turned up soon.

A few more abandoned buildings lay between the general store and the bait shop back on main street. The first looked like it had once been a bike shop, but Olivia couldn’t see how it had stayed open even a month out here. Very few of these muddy roads seemed conducive to biking and every one of the few people she had seen seemed to have a pickup truck of one kind or another. The other two buildings were unidentifiable, but both were covered in crude graffiti. At least it wasn’t gang related, she thought, though around here she wouldn’t be surprised if a local gang’s symbol was a cartoon penis with three balls.

Finally she made it to the bait shop and had to fight a strong urge to just go back to the diner and eat another good meal before they returned to the motel for the night. Forcing herself up the creaking wooden stairs she stepped into the shop, already resigned to her fate. Once inside though she found herself pleasantly surprised.

“Well, good afternoon,” a kind faced woman said from behind the new looking counter. “What brings you in today? A little fishing? My husband’s usually in but he ran down the road for a quick bite to eat. If you’re willing to wait around he can show you some of the good spots on one of our maps. Only two-ninety-nine, but for a beautiful young woman like you I’d knock it down to one-ninety-nine. Us ladies need to stick together you know.” The woman was positively beaming and after the last few interactions Olivia had suffered through, she wanted to run over and hug this nice, normal woman.

“Not here for anything like that,” Olivia said. “I’m actually in town trying to see if Doumont qualifies for our local news program. My bosses aren’t thrilled with the state of local reporting around the country and are trying to identify places that could benefit from a bit of the spotlight a good small town news apparatus can bring.”

“Oh dear I hope you haven’t been saying that to too many people around town,” the woman laughed warmly. “You’re in the bayou now sweetie and they’re red as it gets down here.”

“I’ve gotten that impression so far,” Olivia replied honestly.

“I can imagine,” the woman nodded. “Ole Burt, that’s my husband, is a bit of a righty himself, but not one of the crazies. I mean he’s a little crazy, but not in that way, if you know what I mean. My name is Cass by the way.”

“Olivia,” Olivia said as the woman came around from behind the counter, shook her hand and then, without releasing her, began dragging her towards the back of the shop. Had the grip not felt so motherly, Olivia might have had to get back into tongue removal mode, but their destination turned out to be a back office of sorts. Cass pulled out a chair for Olivia at the small round table at the center of the room and filled her up a styrofoam cup of black coffee.

“So you’re trying to see if anything interesting is going on in Doumont, eh? Well you’ve come to the right place. Me and Burt’s daddies and their daddies’ daddies’ have all lived in Doumont long as anyone can remember. Quiet little place. Not much going on most of the time. Bit of crime when times get tough, but mostly stealing, not a lot of violence.”

“I’ve heard the storms have been rough on this place,” Olivia said, sipping her coffee. She could tell Cass considered herself a bit of a local historian and figured this was as good a way as any to spend the time. Worst case scenario, she got herself a nice little history lesson.

“The hurricanes are what make Doumont, Doumont,” Cass said somberly. “They won’t ever stop comin’ and some of us just ain’t leaving, so you make do. We’ll never turn into New Orleans, I’m sure of that, but we’ll linger on a while yet.”

“I heard the school’s getting shut down and they're going to start busing the kids to Baton Rouge,” Olivia said, sipping her coffee. It was awful, but better than nothing.

“Yeah that’s true I’m afraid,” Cass said. “But it didn’t make sense to keep the place open. Not enough kids around here anyhow.”

“Someone I spoke to said that a lot of the kids don’t even go to school after seventh or eighth grade,” Olivia said.

“Lot of people out in them swamps,” Cassie nodded. “Too many young ones. Some folk have houses or shacks out there in the bayou, but even more are basically homeless. They wander into town now and again, sometimes for supplies, other times to beg, but the police send them runnin’. Most of the time anyway. Come to think of it, there ain’t been too much of that recently.”

“Too much of what?” Olivia said, leaning forward.

“Well,” Cass said, her face conveying deep thought, “we always had a fair mix of swamp folk and homeless that run in and out of town, like I said. Wars don’t help none either. Lots of our boys go to fight and some of the ones that come back ain’t right, most of ‘em really. Got real bad after Vietnam, but we seen an uptick again since we got tied up in Iraq and all that nonsense. Worst it’s ever been was a few years back, but in the last month or so I can’t say I’ve seen as many outside faces as I’m used to this time of year. Lots of the swamp folk come here for fishing supplies and a chat with Burt and myself. We’re like their own little newspaper I guess you could say. Anyway, February and March are usually a big time for them as far as comin’ into town is concerned, but not this year. Hard to imagine why though. Ain’t no where else they’d go and I can’t imagine they all up and left?”

A jingling of bells behind them cut her short and announced that someone had come through the front door. “Burt!?” she called, half screaming into Olivia's face.

No one was perfect.

“Yeah it’s me,” Burt called back in a thick accent that made all of his words sound like they were running together.

“Play along,” Cass said to Olivia, placing a hand on her arm and winking at her like they were old friends. Olivia had no idea what the woman had in mind, but she could hardly preempt what she didn’t know was coming.

Burt walked into the back office with two white plastic bags in his hands. From the smell of it this was he and Cass’ lunch. “Who’s this?” Burt asked, looking Olivia up and down.

“I should be asking you that Burt,” she said in mock anger. “Claims she’s one of your girlfriends from up in Houma.”

Burt stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes going wild and locking onto Olivia’s. His expression seemed to say, Who the hell are you and why are you doing this to me? Luckily Cass began laughing almost as soon as Burt’s reaction had begun. Confused, but clearly relieved, Burt said “You trickin’ me, eh?”

“Yeah, I trickin’ you,” Cass laughed back, mocking his verbiage playfully.

“Burt,” the man said, extending a hand to Olivia as he deposited lunch on the table.

“Olivia,” she said, shaking his meaty, calloused hand.

Cass took a few moments to explain to Burt who Olivia was and what she was doing. He didn’t look thrilled by the idea, but at least there was no spitting or yelling. “We were just talking about how no one been comin’ in from the bayou yet this year. No fishermen, no bums, nobody.”

Burt took all this in with a bemused look on his face, but by the time his wife was done he seemed to be thinking hard on what she’d said. “Aint nobody been here? None?” he asked finally.

“Not that I can recall,” Cass said. “Should’ve seen a handful of them by now, but just out-of-towners like Olivia here and the regulars.”

“Come to think of it,” Burt said, stroking his long mustache as he did, “I ain’t seen nobody out in the bayou neither. Not a soul.”

“Very strange,” Olivia said. “Would you consider telling anyone? The cops I mean?”

“Naw,” Burt said, shaking his head. “Them people comes and goes.”

“He’s right,” Cass said, nodding sagely. “They wouldn’t bother looking into it. Too much ground to cover and not enough information to go on. Could have been a rough winter or maybe some flash flooding we haven’t heard about yet. It happens. We make enough on fisherman passing through on their way south to get by. I just hope everyone’s alright.”

Olivia didn’t get much more out of Cass and Burt, but with nowhere else to go she spent the next couple of hours sipping coffee and hearing Cass talk about growing up in Doumont, her sisters, nieces and nephews, and a number of other things Olivia had no real interest in. Soon enough her phone began to vibrate but she clicked it off without pulling it out. The alarm had been set for one forty-five. It seemed her time in Doumont was coming to an end.

Cass had wanted her to stay for an early supper, but Olivia had fended her off politely enough. It was a short walk down to the car, but even from here she could see that no one had reached it yet. Opening the vitamin water she’d bought at the market, she got into the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. The only options for radio out here were country music stations and static-plagued bible nuts.

She preferred the quiet.

----------------------------------------

Hayden left Olivia behind as he began his exploration of the north side of Doumont. The town was a whole lot of nothing as far as he could see and he wanted to avoid catching the wrong people’s attention, but with so little going on here, that might prove to be harder than it seemed. The school, the police station and some sort of catch-all municipal building lined the highway and behind them was a little fried fish restaurant and two bars, both looking like the worst type of dive.

Figuring that little could be gained from poking around the police station and the school as a strange man with no real business in town, he decided to check out the odd little government building at the far end of the street from where he’d crossed. As he reached the main doors, he was still unsure quite what this place was. It was the definition of nondescript and the only verbiage anywhere on the building’s facade simply said Doumont Township.

Stepping inside he found himself in a lobby of sorts. The place kind of reminded him of one of the rest stops out west that served as both a place to take a leak and a small local museum/visitor’s center. Directly in front of him was a large, poorly-executed mural that he guessed was supposed to represent Doumont, but in reality looked like a bunch of badly drawn buildings sitting in front of gray looking water. Or was it sky? Even the letters spelling Doumont seemed to have been created by someone unfamiliar with the word or possibly new to forming letters. To his right was a small nook full of books with a take one, leave one sign hanging over the entrance. Hayden was worried this was the town’s sad excuse for a library. To his left was an open space that was filled with signs and billboards explaining the history and the quote unquote many attractions of Doumont and the surrounding area. Just beyond this sad little space were some offices, but not a single one was occupied.

Wandering into the mini-museum to his left, Hayden poked around at the various pamphlets and signage scattered across the room. Half of the places the pamphlets described were nowhere near Doumont and the rest Hayden had to assume were closed based on their drive through the area earlier today. The signs told a similar story. The events, job fairs and notices were all months, if not years, out of date and from what he could see, nothing new had been added to the mess in recent memory. He even decided to peek into the offices. All were locked, but he was able to get a look through the thin vertical windows set in each of the worn wooden doors. No computers, no desk chairs. Just single desks devoid of knick-knacks, pictures or papers. Hayden felt safe assuming this building was not staffed currently and probably had very little use in this small town.

Leaving the mundane little building behind was his best option, but on his way out he popped into the library just next to the entrance. The book selection was dusty enough to suggest no one used these things and dated enough to explain why. Still, Hayden wasn’t getting great wifi reception in the motel room and Olivia’s taste in television was awful, so he skimmed the weathered spines until he found two acceptable reading options. Salem’s Lot was a classic he hadn’t read in years and A Brief History of Time would keep him occupied even if he didn’t understand half of it. Shoving the paperbacks into his pocket, he didn’t bother to leave any sort of replacements as he exited the building. He doubted most people in this town read anyway, and if they did they weren't getting their books from this dusty old nook.

The remaining options, two bars and a small restaurant, almost made Hayden feel guilty about taking the north side. He hadn’t had so much as a drop to drink since joining the team, but he was happy to change that. Walking towards the closer of the two bars, he reminded himself to grab some mints or something before he went back to the car. His substance abuse issues seemed to have become common knowledge with his peers in the EDTF, though he was under the impression they thought he was an alcoholic. This wasn’t exactly true, though he could get himself into trouble with the sauce quicker than most people. No, Hayden’s problem was mental. When things in his head got too crowded or overwhelming, he was in danger of using anything and everything he could get his hands on to escape that sense of panic and paranoia. Jack had recruited him into this venture during one of these episodes and Hayden had been forced to go through mild withdrawals in front of his new coworkers even as he more than pulled his weight. He felt much better now though and everyone seemed to be relaxing around him a little. Even Atticus wasn’t being as big a prick as usual.

In other words, it was high time for a beer.

It was a short walk to the closer of the two bars and as Hayden walked inside he felt an odd sense of familiarity. It didn’t take him long to see why; this was obviously a cop bar. Hayden had been to a million of these little places and the look and feel were always similar. Taking a seat at the empty bar, he waited for someone to show themselves.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Oh hey there fella,” a voice finally said. The man had been in the back and had just emerged with a plastic carrier full of glass mugs. “Just me here today so I’ve got to jump back and forth. Sorry to keep ya waitin’.”

“Not a problem,” Hayden said, placing a ten dollar bill on the table. “Two beers, keep the rest if there is any. Am I ok to have a drink here?”

“Not sure what you mean?” the man said as he filled a mug from an unlabeled tap. “We’re open, if that’s what you’re asking. I know it’s a little dead in here. Easy to think we closed.” The man’s accent was noticeable and Hayden had to hang on each word carefully despite the bar being almost silent.

“I just meant this place strikes me as a cop bar. Sometimes they don’t like outsiders poking around their stomping grounds,” Hayden said, accepting the fresh beer from the bartender. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Well it is, used to be anyway, but I don’t think you have much to worry about today.”

“All the officers kick the sauce,” Hayden laughed, taking his first sip of alcohol in over a month.

“No, not hardly,” the bartender said, not laughing in the slightest. “Just stopped coming in about a month or so ago. One or two might pop in once and a while for a drink, but they don’t stay long or talk much. Can’t quite understand what happened.”

“You own the place?” Hayden asked.

“Naw,” the bartender said, leaning heavily on the wood bartop. “Mr. Guthry owns this place, but he don’t live here no more. Moved about five years back. Told me as long as the place don’t lose him money to keep the doors open. If this keeps up, that ain’t going to be long.”

“How’d the competition steal the cops?” Hayden said, assuming they had migrated to the other bar down the street.

“Jackson’s place?” the bartender scoffed. “They wouldn’t be caught dead in there. Awful little bar. Dirty, smoky. No good.”

“So I can’t smoke in here?” Hayden asked.

“Shit I don’t care at this point. You paying, you smoke what you want, long as it’s legal.”

Hayden thanked the bartender and lit a cigarette. He was having a hard time imagining why a small town police force with jack all to do but watch the water rise and fall would quit drinking en masse. Religion was all he could think of and down here that seemed more than possible, if still a little unlikely.

“How many officers does this town even need,” Hayden said, looking for somewhere to ash.

The bartender slid him an empty coffee mug as he said, “Well usually only the sheriff and four deputies, but I’ve seen some new faces in uniform around town, but I don’t think they let anyone go. Hard to imagine that’s in the budget if the school is closing.”

“Wouldn’t fly anywhere I’ve lived,” Hayden agreed. “How the hell are they closing the school?”

“Ain’t many kids round here to begin with and the ones that are don’t have much use for schooling once they can read and write. Shit, half of them can’t do that and still never bother to show up. Still, some folks are riled up about it and I can’t imagine flaunting them new officers is gonna help much in the long run.”

Hayden finished his beer and thanked the man for his time. Walking out of the former cop hangout, he decided lunch and then another beer at the second bar could pretty much round out his time here in Doumont.

The fish place didn’t have a name that Hayden could see, simply an old white and red sign that read Fried Fish, Fried Chicken and More! in the front window. It smelled good though and Hayden found himself a little table in the center of the restaurant to eat his lunch. So far this was the most populated place in town, though it would still be considered dead most places in the country. A group of older ladies out to lunch sat a few tables to his right and behind him was a middle-aged man and his son. Two waitresses were running the front and it looked like there might be one fry cook in the back slinging fish and chicken into paper lined baskets.

Hayden ordered the fried flounder, cajun fries and slaw and pretended to read his book while he listened to the people around him. Sometimes you learned just as much keeping your mouth shut as you did asking questions.

From what he could gather, the women behind him were some sort of bible study group, though thankfully that portion of their meeting seemed to have given way to gossip and complaints about town. They didn’t have much to say worth listening to, but they did mention the increased police presence in town and the audacity of expanding the force while the school was being shuttered. Something was definitely going on there, but Hayden had zero reason to connect it to the type of thing they were looking for. Olivia kept going on and on about how places like this suffered from not having true local news coverage. Maybe she was on to something after all. This type of behavior would have sent up red flags in any major city and likely would never have been allowed to happen in the first place.

The man and his son were the more interesting pair. Hayden got the impression that the man was estranged from the boy, probably on the raw end of a custody situation, and that he was struggling to connect with the kid. They talked about school and his mother and all sorts of other irrelevant shit, but then they had an exchange that piqued his interest.

“You think I might be able to go ride my bike tonight? Just round town a bit?” the kid asked.

“Damn it David I done told you already that I don’t want you out at night. Been too many folks wandering around when they got no business doing so. Sheriff don’t seem too concerned neither. No boy, you stay inside and watch TV with your da. Not so bad, eh? Come on boy…” The rest of the conversation was more of the same, but something about the father’s reluctance to let the kid out at night made Hayden uneasy as he wolfed down the rest of his fries and paid his bill.

Finished with lunch, he made his final trip to the last building worth visiting this side of town, the place the bartender at his first stop had called Jackson’s Place. The bar was one of those metal sided, tin-roofed dives that looked like it might fall in on itself at any moment. Making his way inside, Hayden saw that despite the rough exterior, the place was doing far better than the competition. Three patrons sat at the bar and a table of older men sat in one of the tattered booths smoking silently while they watched an old bowl game on ESPN Classic.

Leaving the good old boys to their football, Hayden sat down at the short bar with the other three patrons and ordered another beer. He’d cap it off at three for the day, but he couldn’t help but enjoy being back in this type of environment. The bartender seemed like a stoic fellow, but the others at the bar were friendly enough. Two were brothers who lived just south of town in one of the trailer parks fixing boat motors and diesel engines. The third was none other than Jackson himself, the bar’s owner. Jackson was a big man squeezed into a much too tight t-shirt and much too large overalls. He was friendly enough though and soon Hayden found himself discussing the Doumont PD once again.

“So you were at Doumont’s second best bar earlier,” Jackson chortled after introductions had been made. “Don’t seem like they long for this world. Good riddance too. Only opened this place to give regular folks somewhere to drink. Sheriff and his boys ran that place like they owned it for years, and ownership let them. Now look at them; them cops up and left them out to dry. Serves them right.

“Sheriff doesn’t seem too popular around here,” Hayden said.

“Wasn’t so bad for a while, little heavy handed,” the older of the two brothers, Roy, said. “Last month or so things have been different though. Seems like they drove all the homeless out of town, not the worst thing if you ask me, but they must have cracked some skulls to clean the place up this fast. On top of that, they ain’t been answering calls from people outside of town. Ms. Landon thought someone was breaking into her place last week, called 911 three times and nobody answered. Finally, when she gets through, they tell her to stop calling and jamming up the line. Can you believe that? What else is the damn line for!?”

“Did she report it?” Hayden asked.

“To who, boy?” Jackson scoffed, smashing his cigarette but into the glass ashtray in front of him. “Ain’t no one gives a damn about this place who don’t live here, and even half of them ain’t going to lift a finger for anyone but themselves.”

“Wish they hadn’t run everyone out,” Roy’s younger brother, Ryan said. “Some of them men are vets. Fought for our country and now they havin’ a hard time. Cops treat them the same as some crackhead who wandered in to cause trouble. It ain’t right.”

“Most of them ain’t like that,” Roy said.

“Plenty are,” Ryan shot back. “You saw that video been going round.”

“What video?” Hayden asked curiously, not sure who or what was actually being discussed.

“The cook over at the fish fry, Charlie I think he’s called, got video of two of them new police attacking some man out on main street. They roughed him up real good even though he was wearing one of them army jackets and everything. I mean, I guess he could’ve stole it, but I wouldn’t want to take the chance if it was me,” Ryan said.

“Can I see it, the video I mean?” Hayden asked.

“Sure,” Ryan said, grabbing his phone off of the bar in front of him. “My girl’s cousin knows Charlie and she sent me the video a few weeks back. It’s on here somewhere.”

“Be careful showing that video to everyone you meet Rye,” Roy said seriously. “Those men may not take kindly to you showing people what they done. Might be you on the next video.”

“Relax,” Ryan said. “Hayden’s just passing through. He ain’t gonna rat on me. Here we go. Don’t scroll up,” the guy added as he handed Hayden his phone.

Making damn sure not to scroll up as he took the phone from Ryan, Hayden pressed play on the small video widget and watched the scene play out.

The quality of the video was questionable and the guy capturing it on his phone was clearly trying not to be seen, but the series of events played out plainly enough for Hayden to get the gist. The video opened on the main street, just beyond where the four of them sat, in the middle of some sort of altercation. Three men were involved; two uniformed officers and the homeless man Ryan thought might be a veteran. The two cops were shouting at the man in the army jacket as they moved to encircle him. Their target, to his credit, understood what was happening and charged the smaller of the two cops in an effort to get away. The smaller cop managed to stop him, but it was the bigger man that turned the fight into a beating. The video cut off as the homeless man fell to his knees and tried to defend himself from the vicious kicks and stomps the officers were unleashing on him.

“Damn,” Hayden said after the video ended. “Anything come of it?”

“Nope,” Roy said edgily. “They just dragged him off and no one’s seen him since.”

“Wasn’t that right out in front of the police station?” Hayden asked. It had been hard to tell exactly where on the street the brawl had taken place, but here in Doumont pretty much everywhere was at least station adjacent.

“That’s what I said,” Jackson chimed in, tilting his beer at Hayden. “I know police work can get rough, but I ain’t never seen anything like that in the middle of town. If any of the older folks had seen, there would have been an uproar.”

Hayden let the other three bounce ideas off of each other and argue around him while he mulled over what he’d just watched unfold. If he was forced to make a guess at what was going on in Doumont, he’d put his money on out and out police corruption. It happened, and the smaller the town the longer it might go unnoticed, but this was as brazen as you could be without sending a letter of anarchist intent to the big bosses at the state or federal level. On top of that, a few things about the video had stuck out to him.

First off, the police had not seemed like police at all. Their behavior had seemed like run of the mill street thug bullshit, not something two cops would do to a perp accused of nothing more than vagrancy. They also had not been dressed properly. They had all the right clothes on, that wasn’t what the issue was, but all of it was being worn in such a state of disarray that it stuck out to real police like Hayden instantly. Most concerning though, had been the actions of their victim. He had not seemed crazed or agitated, on the contrary, he’d seemed to know that these weren’t men trying to arrest him, but enemies out to harm him. Judging by the video, he’d been spot on in this assessment and all that had failed him had been his ability to flee.

Reminding himself that he wasn’t here to look for anything and everything wrong with this dumpy little town, he steered the conversation away from the video they had shared with him and towards more run of the mill bar subjects; the Saints, the Pelicans and the downsides of Baton Rouge and New Orleans. By the time these topics had run their course, Hayden was due back at the car. Bidding farewell to his afternoon friends, he walked out of the little bar and back towards mainstreet.

On his way, the bartender from the former cop bar saw him as he was taking out the trash. The man looked genuinely hurt and hurried back inside before Hayden could wave or acknowledge him.

“You’re breaking my heart,” Hayden muttered to himself as he approached the spot where Ellis had parked.

He found Olivia lying back in the front seat, eyes closed, with a half-full vitamin water in her hand. Rapping on the window lightly to announce his presence, he watched as she opened one eye, squinting at him from her reclined position. Rolling her eyes in an entirely obvious and intentionally hurtful way, she unlocked the car and Hayden made his way to the passenger side and got in.

“Happy to see me?” he asked dryly. He really didn’t know why the woman despised him so much.

“Happy to get out of this place,” Olivia said, starting the engine.

“You forgetting a certain someone?” Hayden said, scanning the area for Noah.

“He’s probably still walking in,” Olivia said as she pulled a u-turn in the middle of town and set off back towards the hotel. “We can scoop him on the way.”

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Noah had begun his walk down the barren highway at a mid-sized gas station that marked the beginning of the Doumont area without technically being in town. The gas station had been a good place to start the morning; the place seemed clean and decently staffed. This was unusual compared to the rest of what he’d seen since they’d been in the area and he figured this place was simply in the perfect spot on this stretch of desolate highway. Noah had grabbed coffee and a few of the fresh beignets they made in the little fry area towards the rear of the station.

Munching on his regionally appropriate breakfast, Noah started his long walk down the highway towards town. There were no sidewalks, but a narrow dirt strip that served as a bike path allowed him to step out of the road if a car did happen to pass by. About a half mile down the road from the gas station, a little produce stand stood across from a vacant building that might have once been one of those old-timey general stores tourists seemed to love down south.

Noah decided to check out the produce stand more as a way to kill time than anything else. Truth be told he wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence now that the team was taking a more official and organized shape. It was an all around positive development to be sure, but it made him feel even more out of place than he had in the rag tag group he’d joined more than a month before. He’d figured this stretch of road would bear the least fruit, no pun intended, and that it would leave the real work to Olivia and Hayden. The last thing Noah wanted to do was miss something important.

Even though his colleagues had seemed to grow more and more openly hostile with each day they stayed trapped in that tiny motel room in the middle of nowhere, and despite his concerns over his worthiness in their company, Noah had actually been having a great few days. Compared to the lifestyle he’d been living before all this started, being around intelligent people roughly his own age who were as involved as he was in doing something positive was a one hundred percent improvement. Trying to capitalize on this good feeling, he’d been doing his best to lighten the mood between Olivia and Hayden, but whatever was going on between those two, he wasn’t managing to tone it down.

The produce stand was not quite what he’d expected. Very few actual whole fruits and vegetables lined the stands shelves, but a host of jarred, canned and jerkied things were in good supply. He was tempted to buy a few items for the motel room, but ultimately opted against it. There was a fried chicken place up the road that was supposedly the best place in the area, according to Yelp at least, and Noah never liked bringing outside food into a mom-and-pop.

Seemed disrespectful.

Lunch was about a mile and a half down the road, but Noah didn’t mind. He’d always loved going on long walks in the mountains when he’d been living in the Appalachians and this place had its own majesty to it. The uneven sprawl of swamp in every direction seemed menacing in its endlessness. There wasn’t much to look at, but the sea air hung thick around him and strong breezes and cold weather kept the bugs at bay enough for him to enjoy himself as he took it all in.

He’d expected to get a few pieces of fried chicken at the restaurant he’d picked for lunch, but the crawdad special instantly pushed that mundane and foolish idea out of his mind. About a third of the seats in the restaurant were full, mostly older couples, and the place seemed to be running smoothly. Fifteen minutes after he ordered, Noah found himself tearing through a pound and a half of spicy boiled crawdads that had been dumped onto a mass of paper in front of him. He almost felt guilty about his feast, but he assumed the others would have to eat as well. Why should he feel bad for hitting the jackpot purely by chance?

He tried to be productive while he ate and listen in for any useful information from the people around him, but he came up empty. Almost all of them were glued to their phones and the ones that weren’t sat in silence. The only conversation he did overhear was a fairly offensive one about a hippie granddaughter who’d met a quote unquote colored boy at school. Noah had asked for the check just as the woman’s friends began giving their equally distasteful takes on the situation and was back on the road with a full belly by mid-day.

The next stretch of road was the emptiest yet and only one more cluster of buildings lay between him and Doumont proper. Roughly two miles of empty road was all Noah saw as he kept moving steadily towards his goal. He kept looking out into the swamp, expecting to see something that might make this entire day worthwhile. It had happened before back east. The thought of seeing that evil little man at the tree line the day he’d been recruited, though that wasn’t quite the right word, by Hayden and Olivia still made his stomach go into knots. It had happened though and he couldn’t ignore the fact that it could just as easily happen again. He hoped it didn’t, but it could.

He reached the final couple of buildings before Doumont in good time and took in his limited scouting options with a growing sense of futility in his mission. On the north side of the highway sat a rundown, but open, auto shop. Right next to it was an equally dilapidated Dollar General. On the south side of the highway, Noah’s current side, there was one of those weird woodworking shops that clearly also doubled as the artisan’s house. Noah would never feel comfortable walking into a place like that, especially with zero intention of purchasing something, so he crossed the street.

Upon closer inspection though this didn’t seem anymore promising. The auto shop had no customers and neither did the Dollar General. He guessed that he could just wander in there and start chatting up employees, but that seemed both pointless and more than a little suspect. He knew Olivia had her reporter schtick she liked to bust out from time to time, but up until now he’d always had a badge to justify his questions. He’d never needed to make up a reason to ask a stranger something before and was finding it embarrassingly difficult now that he couldn’t force an interaction like he used to.

As he was mustering up his courage to go bother the guys in the Dollar General, he noticed a small footpath that ran in between the auto shop and the store he was about to enter. Diverting towards it at the last second, he decided this was as good a use of his time as any. The path wasn’t long, but wound behind a small outcropping of trees that kept whatever it led to out of sight. Hoping he wasn’t wandering anywhere he shouldn’t, Noah followed the path around the copse of trees and found himself staring at one of the strangest houses he’d ever seen.

The place was worn, but not rundown, painted entirely white, though the paint peeled in places, and with windows full of what looked to be Virgin Mary candles like the ones you found at Tiendas or Catholic bookstores. An orange and black open sign was tacked to the door, but Noah was now faced with the same problem he had had with the woodshop across the street. This was clearly a residence and no matter how inviting it looked, he just didn’t like the idea of waltzing in unannounced. That type of thing could get you killed out in the sticks.

Noah’s dilemma was solved for him however when a man came around the side of the white house and saw him standing there. The guy was about as odd looking as his house, something that didn’t necessarily settle Noah down. He was a middle aged guy with light brown skin, thick, unkempt dreadlocks and at least ten piercings in his ears, nose and lips combined. He was wearing long johns under a worn leather hunting vest and fisherman’s overalls, and what Noah could only describe as a Crocodile Dundee style hat sat atop his head. A long hand rolled cig hung from the side of his mouth, which broke into a wide smile when he saw Noah standing awkwardly in front of his house.

“Hey there man, whatcha doing just standing there in the muck? Come on inside and we’ll see what Jonathan can do for ya,” the man said jovially in an accent that seemed to flit between cajun and something more Caribbean sounding from word to word. He didn’t wait to see if Noah was following him as he strolled inside, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Curious enough to see what this man’s deal was, Noah followed him inside, shutting the door softly behind him. Taking the place in, Noah instantly knew what it was. While half of the stuff inside was traditional headshop fare, the rest was what came to mind when Noah thought of the word voodoo. Catholic themed candles and rosaries sat on one little shelf near the register, but everything else was bones, vials, incense and folk art that kind of made Noah’s skin crawl. He was not a superstitious guy, but people that were deep into stuff like this made him more than a little nervous.

“So what brings you to my humble abode,” the man said as he took his place behind the register. “Looking for some healing or just see dat little path and come a wanderin?”

“The latter,” Noah said, still eyeing the more macabre of the talismans hanging all around him.

“The most common answer I get,” the man laughed. “Good thing you came in anyway. Don’t need to be wandering these roads like you seem ta be doing.”

“Oh yeah,” Noah asked. “Why’s that?”

“Evil times round here boy,” the man said, lowering his voice and leaning in conspiratorially. “Been seeing the signs for a long time, but now I’m sure that evil’s found its way here my friend. You don’t need to be worrying bout it though, no sir. Old Jonathan will sort things out. Where there is darkness I will bring light, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the mass of strange objects around him as if this was all the evidence Noah needed of his good intentions and ability to handle whatever he thought was going on here.

Starting to regret dipping into this madman’s little shop of horrors, Noah began wandering towards the door as he pretended to peruse the shelves. “This stuff keeps you tuned in to things like that, huh?” Noah asked, playing along for now.

“No need to humor me,” the man said seriously. “I know you outside folk don’t understand the old ways. We do though. I’m just passing on a warning is all. Things been changing round here last month or so. People that used to be one way, aren’t anymore. The forces of darkness have descended on our little community and the battle is almost ready to begin. Best you get out of here while things are still calm.”

Noah froze just shy of the door. All of this sounded like the traditional religious mumbo jumbo, but their gate had supposedly been activated around a month ago. Maybe it was worth feeling this guy out after all. “What makes you think something’s going on,” Noah asked. “Seems pretty quiet to me.”

“Beg your pardon, but you don’t even know where you at boy. The bayou has her secrets in the best of times and these aren’t the best of anything. I know what I’ve seen on the faces round here; a shadow. First it was just a few, but now everybody’s getting sucked in.”

“So people have been acting odd lately?” Noah pressed. Whether the man was pulling Noah’s leg or not, he seemed committed to a certain degree of theater as far as this conversation was concerned.

“Oh yes,” the man nodded. “Been out when they shouldn’t be, going places they ain’t been before with folks they have no business with. This place has a rhythm to it you see. Live here long enough and you can feel it keeping things as they supposed to be. Rhythms off now. Been off. It’s not safe to be here anymore, not by a long shot. You need a little blessing to see you on your way and I can do that. Old Jonathan knows all the old ways. Nothing gets lost up here,” he said, tapping a long bony finger on his temple.

Deciding to change his wording a bit, Noah asked, “But so far things have stayed quiet you said? Maybe it will pass? We can hope right?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Jonathan said sadly, shaking his head.

“Why’s that?” Noah asked.

“First blood’s been shed,” he said, speaking low again. “Bodies out in the swamps.”

Shit, Noah thought as his time in Louisiana extended indefinitely before his eyes. “Jonathan,” he said finally, “if I end up in town for a few more days, would you mind if I dropped by again? Maybe take you up on that blessing?”

“You always welcome here my brother,” the man said, smiling. “Be good to know ya name though.”

“Noah,” Noah said, shaking Jonathan’s hand. “Noah Benjamin.”

“Alright then Mr. Benjamin, you come back in a day or so if you need to but don’t forget what I told you. Doumont ain’t safe anymore. You'd do well to get out of this place and never come back.”

Leaving the man behind, Noah wondered if he’d screwed up by giving the man his real name. Hoping it didn’t come back to haunt him, Noah set off towards the highway. It was a bit of a walk to town, but suddenly he had plenty to think about.

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Olivia saw Noah as he emerged from in between the Dollar General and the repair shop.

“What the hell was he doing back there?” Hayden asked as Olivia pulled the car over to let Noah inside.

“I’m sure he’ll tell us in like ten seconds,” Olivia said, trying not to let her annoyance creep into her voice. The Hayden-free time had been wonderful and being back in his presence was not sitting well with her.

“Good timing,” Noah said, slipping into the back seat.

“Find anything fun in the woods?” Hayden said mockingly.

“Fun isn’t the right word,” Noah said, “but I’m starting to think we’re in the right place.”

“Oh yeah,” Hayden said. “What did you hear? Because so far all I’ve heard about all day is how town is dying and the police are probably not on the up and up.”

“Not on the up and up?” Olivia asked. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently,” Hayden said, “they just hired a bunch of new officers even though there isn’t money to keep the fucking school open. On top of that one of the locals showed me a video of two of the newbies kicking the shit out of some homeless guy they thought might be a vet.”

Olivia ground her teeth at Hayden’s description of the man’s assault. She was a veteran herself and though her time in the military had left her with mixed feelings towards the war in the middle east and the military hierarchy in general, she supported her fellow vets without question. “That doesn’t sound normal,” she said angrily as she drove.

“Not as abnormal as you’d think, though it was about as dumb a stunt as they could have pulled, even if they didn’t think there was a chance of being filmed,” Hayden said.

“That actually falls in line with what the voodoo guy said,” Noah mused from behind them.

“The voodoo guy?” she and Hayden said together with equal indignation.

“Yeah, Jonathan,” Noah said as if nothing about his statement had been odd, “owns a little voodoo/headshop behind the Dollar General. Real odd place. Pretty sure he lives there. Invited me inside and started rambling about how evil had fallen over the town and how people weren’t acting the same…”

“I heard something similar,” Olivia cut in. “Lady and her husband that own the bait shop chatted me up for a while and they both said that people had been missing from town. Not people that live in Doumont per se, but folks from out in the bayou. She said they usually show up this time of year like clockwork to restock on supplies, but no one has so far.”

“Anything like that come up on your end?” Noah asked Hayden.

“Sort of,” Hayden said as if connecting the dots was something he’d rather not do. “Guy that ran the cop bar said they’d just up and stopped going to the place around a month ago. No reason given and they didn’t just start going to the other bar in town. Said that was right before the big expansion too. Also heard some dad telling his kid he couldn’t go out at night because too many people had been wandering around recently.”

“Jonathan said something similar,” Noah said excitedly. “Said people had been ‘going places they weren’t supposed to with people they had no business with’ or something like that. Most of it was pretty crazy to be honest, but he was adamant about one thing; he wanted me to get the hell out of here before whatever it is he thinks is going on pops off.”

“Did he give you any reason for his suspicions?” Olivia asked, preempting Hayden’s obnoxious comment deriding Noah’s source.

“He did actually,” Noah said in a serious enough voice that even Hayden lost his skeptical smirk. “Told me that blood had already been spilled in some sort of war that was brewing with these evil forces he kept going on about. Said he’s found bodies in the swamp.”

“Well that isn’t good,” Olivia said as they pulled into the parking lot of their motel and she parked the car just shy of the staircase leading to their room’s ugly green door.

“It was what tipped us off last time that something was up,” Noah said.

“Hold up,” Hayden said, turning in his seat so that he could face both Olivia and Noah while he made his case. “The last time this happened we didn’t just find bodies. We found mutilated bodies, children with no eyes who had been fucking flayed in front of their goddamned parents, and it wasn’t just us. That shit made the news, and not just local, it was on CNN for weeks. I’m not trying to be callous, but finding a body in the swamp out here isn’t really equivalent to that. I bet this fucking place is chock full of bodies from the hurricanes alone.”

“He said it was multiple bodies,” Noah replied, though he sounded less confident. Hayden had a point as hard as that was for Olivia to admit.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if there were fifty bodies in a twenty mile radius of where we sit. This isn’t North Carolina, Benjamin. This is the fucking bayou. No one knows what the fuck is going on down here and most people don’t want to,” Hayden shot back.

“Alright, alright,” Olivia said, putting two fingers to each of her temples as she thought. “Big picture seems to be that Doumont is dying, the people are discontent and that roughly a month ago some folks started acting oddly, including the police. Now we have a single, and I apologize Noah, unreliable source that says this is all part of some sort of brewing swamp war that has already resulted in a number of deaths in the area. That sound about right?”

“More or less,” Hayden nodded.

“And you think this all adds up to nothing and that we should leave?” Olivia asked him directly.

“I mean I don’t know if we need to hit the road tonight,” Hayden said, throwing his hands in the air, “but no, I don’t think all of that warrants us sticking around much longer if we don’t find any corroborating information or evidence.”

“You want to talk to voodoo guy then?” she asked him. “See if you read him differently than Noah did?”

“Maybe,” Hayden said cautiously, “but I also don’t want this guy sending us on a wild goose chase because he’s actually just some fucking loon we gave an audience.”

“What about you Noah?” Olivia asked the man in the back seat.

“Nothing seems concrete, but the timeline fits too nicely for me to chalk it up to coincidence. Even if none of these problems directly point to something having crossed through here, they all seem to have started right around when our gate supposedly opened. I’m not sure if Jonathan has the answers to any of our questions, but I’m not just going to ignore what he said because he’s…..eccentric. Get out of dodge doesn’t seem like an effective way to swindle people. He seemed genuine, even if it did come across as a little over the top.”

“That’s more or less where I am,” Olivia said. “One of the guys I talked to mentioned things starting to get odd around a month ago as well. I thought it might just be your average retail bullshit, but now it seems to fall in line with a lot of other people’s perceptions of how things have been going in the area lately.”

“So what?” Hayden said, “Have I been outvoted?”

“Looks that way,” Olivia said, taking off her seatbelt and opening the driver side door. “Try not to get too butthurt about it,” she added, smiling as she slammed it shut.

Not waiting for the other two, she went quickly up the motel stairs and to their room. She slid her room key into the doors electronic lock and stepped into the dingy little space she’d come to despise so much over the last few days. Flopping down onto her bed, she decided to wait until morning to let Atticus know what they’d found. It wasn’t anything that needed his immediate attention, not yet, but her gut told her they were onto something here.

She just wasn’t sure what.