Thomas Barton's Story

The obvious questions came first, and Barton answered honestly, "I'm still not sure. I've never met Renner before. I don't know how he knew what he knew. What he said was true. Which gets to your next question. Time for a story."

He sighed, then looked forward at the road. Merely recalling the details of that case disturbed him, but he forced the words out. Connor deserved the truth. "About three months ago, I was assigned to look at what was a suspected kidnapping that had crossed state lines. The suspect had allegedly taken his father from his home and was holding him in a small house on the outskirts of town. I talked to the old man, he was very quiet. I kept an eye on the house for the next two months or so, with no real legal basis for marching in there and taking the old man away. Then, one night, the house was quiet. I got no answer at the door...so I went inside." He swallowed, feeling the memory choke him. "I found the old man in there. What was left of him, anyway." He paused again, and realized he had been holding his breath the whole time. He forced air out violently, then breathed in and continued. The truth was paramount. "He was in pieces, and skin and bones. All those two months...the young man had been torturing him. Starving, mutilation, amputations...and the worst part was, I had lost the prime suspect. Incredibly, they caught him speeding not two hours after I phoned the old man's death in, and they took him in."

Barton continued to force breath. The worst was yet to come. "As the lead investigator, I interrogated him. It was only then I knew how twisted he truly was. He believed he had purified the old man, his father—his own father!—by ritually removing his hands and feet, then by starving him to death. He believed that ensured his father's place in the afterlife. When I told him he was going to jail, he went berserk. He attacked me. Spat on me. Said I was the devil. I requested leave off the case. They took me off the lead investigation, but I gave them my notes. The trial's going on now."

He sighed. "After that things seemed to be going uphill. I found a book called Down Along the East, and that's when I remembered Alex. Time for another story. This one's more pleasant.

"Alex is, for lack of a better word, my sweet. We met back when I worked in the Bureau's Richmond office, back in '88. She was travelling for her book, the Down Along the East one. Anyway, we had a fling while she was in Richmond, but eventually she had to go. We talked on the telephone an awful lot after that, but eventually I got transferred to this gig as a Special, and I couldn't call as often. Soon we just stopped. I guess there was a mutual acknowledgement that it couldn't be. Then, after I got her book, I decided to try and call her again. Now we're trying to see if it could work out. As for how he knew about her...I don't know."

Barton sighed again as he listened to Connor's response. "Yeah, long night. I doubt I'll make the night without some sleep. Check the walkie again," he continued as he saw the Station ahead. He parked the car carefully and got out. He wondered where Agent Blake was. Was he still getting the kids?

Thinking of Agent Barton in any kind of relationship took the fearful edge off that nights events and made Connor smile.
"Yeah, long night. I doubt I'll make the night without some sleep. Check the walkie again,", Barton said, snapping the Deputy back into reality.
Connor pressed down on the talk-button and raised to to his lips.
"Deputy Montgomery, this is Deputy Adams, come in.", He said before taking his thumb off of the button.
No answer.
"Deputy Montgomery, this is Deputy Adams, come in!", he said again, desperation starting to edge his voice.
We found Renner, what the hell could've happened to them? Does he have an accomplice?
"Damn it. We should check in with Agent Blake", he said to Barton as he got out of the car. "Somethings not right here".
Ha, seems to be the phrase of the night, he thought to himself wryly as he got out of the car.
Barton got out of his side of the car and both of them walked to the front entrance of the building.
"First we'll report in to Blake, try to get some food and caffeine in us, then figure out what the fuck we do about Montgomery and Temple's radio silence.", the Deputy knew Hayden could handle herself in a pinch, and paired with the FBI agent they would be a force to be reckoned with, but he still couldn't shake the uneasy feeling building up in his stomach.

"Agent Blake." Barton said as they entered the Squad Room.
"We found Renner, but he committed suicide before we could apprehend him". The Agent continued. " He exhibited strange behavior, such as speaking in third person before killing himself, acting like one with split-personality disorder, and uh..."
"Sickin' wolves after us and knowing about Bartons past", The Deputy finished where Barton left off.
"Also, we can't raise Temple or Montgomery on the Radio we need to look into that", Connor said, looking between the two agents.

Blake stood in the doorway of the communications room and asked Tina for an update.

“Nothing yet Agent Blake. With the weather coming in so bad it’ll be hard to get a signal.”
Blake nodded but didn’t like the cold feeling creeping into his stomach.

“Agent Blake."

Blake turned to see Barton and Adams enter the squad room.

"We found Renner, but he committed suicide before we could apprehend him". The Agent continued. " He exhibited strange behaviour, such as speaking in third person before killing himself, acting like one with split-personality disorder, and uh..."

"Sickin' wolves after us and knowing about Barton’s past", The Deputy finished where Barton left off.

"Also, we can't raise Temple or Montgomery on the Radio we need to look into that", Connor said, looking between the two agents.

“Whoa slow down. Tell me from the top.” Blake said as he held his hands up in mock surrender.
The two men launched into the story and Blake just listened. When they finished Blake nodded slowly while he thought for a minute.

“Ok if both you can swear that’s what went down and autopsy can back it up I don’t think internal affairs will look at this too closely. They will have to look at this though could be seen as a little too much like vengeance.”

He then thought about the rest of what the men said.

“Alright. This guy was probably nuts. It will end up being like the bell tower sniper Charles Whitman. They’ll cut him open and find a tumour on his brain. As for him knowing about Barton, that case was pretty big and sounds like he got a couple of lucky guesses. You guys never heard of cold reading? I’m sure when you sit down and think about it the whole thing won’t seem that miraculous.”

Blake looked at the two men standing in front of him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you both look like shit. You’re both done for the day, go get some shut eye. I’ll have Renner’s body collected and go look for Deputy Montgomery and Agent Temple they’re probably still checking out the Saw Mill. I want you two at the funeral tomorrow see if you can’t scare up some leads.”

Blake’s tone didn’t invite debate.

#

“You’re Karen Fellows!” Hayden cried with surprise as she slowly walked toward the girl. “My name is Deputy Hayden Montgomery and I’m here too...”.

Hayden stopped halfway before checking herself.

“... i’m sure someone will be along to save us.”
She looked at the girl who seemed to be unharmed save a few scratches and bruises. Although the bouts of cackling laughter where a cause for concern.

Hayden sat down on the bed beside Karen and was sure to keep her hands where the girl could see them. She seemed a little unhinged.

“Did they hurt you? Do you know anything that might help us get out of here?”

The girl was about to respond when her eyes went wide with terror.

Hayden looked over her shoulder and saw the door to her room had swung open and two men were standing in it. One holding a shotgun, the other a pair of cuffs.

Hayden’s hands instinctively dropped to her empty holster which caused one of the men to laugh. He tossed a pair of cuffs onto the bed beside Hayden.

“Put em on Deputy you’re coming with us.”

Hayden took a look back at Karen who seemed to be frozen with fear.

“You guys must be real tough to scare a little kid like this.”

“Put the cuffs on or I’ll put them on you. You can guess what I’d prefer.” The man said with a dirty smile.
Hayden stood and slipped the cuffs on her wrists before the man walked towards her and placed a hood over her head. Then she felt strong arms guiding her out of the room.

#

Blake was standing outside the old Mill with his flashlight drawn and his hand on his pistol. It was easy to be rational in the well lit Sherriff’s department but out here alone in the woods with the stormy weather it was another story. He noticed the only set of tracks where his own but figured the harsh weather may have filled in Montgomery’s and Temple’s.

He crept inside the old building and had a look around.

The place was dilapidated and falling apart but it seemed structurally sound enough for Blake to have a look around. The first floor was a bust, all he found was some empty beer bottles, probably kids.

The mill floor was large with only old rusted equipment to hold Blake’s attention. He quickly moved onto the second floor which was a mezzanine overlooking the Mill floor. It was a collection of offices which provided him with little information apart from a map of the complex. He noticed there was a basement he still hadn’t checked.

“Typical.” He moaned before trudging towards the basement with only his flashlight as a guide.

#

The cuffs where removed and Hayden was pushed through a doorway. She landed in a heap as a heavy door slammed behind her. She got to her feet and pulled the hood off. Her hands were slightly cut from where she’d stopped her fall.

“Deputy?” A loud booming voice asked her.

“What?” Hayden asked aggressively.

“Sorry about all this but I’m sure you’ll find it all necessary in time.”

“I’ll find you in time.” Hayden whispered.

“No need for threats.” The voice answered and Hayden grew stiff. She looked at her clothes in the dim light but was still able to make out the small microphone than had been placed on her lapel.

She looked around the room which was actually a cave. There were five flood lights arranged in a circle around the centre of the room which left the recesses of the room in darkness.

“Please step into the light Deputy.”

“First some answers. Who are you?”

“Blair Lamont. Please step into the light.”

“What do you want with me?”

“Right now I want you step into the light.”

“What is this place?”

“Deputy. Trust me it’s about to get incredibly cold in that cave and if you wish to survive you’ll need to be in the centre of the room.

Hayden had noticed a chill in the air. So she slowly walked towards the light. Each step though became increasingly difficult as she became colder.

“Saying you’re so inquisitive I’ll let you know all about the cave. It has some bizarre qualities. For example we’ve recorded the temperature reaching absolute zero and the force of gravity changing. The walls contain trace amounts of elements like Seaborgium, Hassium and Fermium which as you know are all man-made. In addition to a few that are totally new to us. We also conducted analysis on the material the walls are made out of and found it to be at least 15 billion years old. That’s older than our galaxy. We also noticed any attempts to measure the size of the room are utterly impossible as appears to be constantly contracting and expanding...”

Hayden collapsed. She wasn’t listening any more to Lamont’s ramblings, it was too cold and rumbling growl filled her mind. All she knew was that the stone in the centre of the room was hot. It took all she had to reach out and touch it.

#

Blake was in the basement but had turned up nothing apart from some strange carvings that looked like eyes. He snapped a couple of pictures when his radio crackled to life.

“... Explosion... dead...”

“Repeat last Tina.” Blake said he made his way up the stairs and back to the Mill floor.”

“...Bronco... one body...”

He decided it was useless until he got outside.

“Tina repeat, I got none of that.”

“Agent Blake they’ve found one of the Broncos. Its blown up and they also found a body. It’s Temple.”

“Rodger, give me the details.”

#

Hayden woke up in the mansion bedroom with a man standing over her.

“Eli?”

“Yep. How you feeling kiddo?” Eli responded with a grin.

“You’re dead.”

“Yeah... You’re not though don’t worry.” Eli said remembering Nathaniel being worried.

“Great so I’m just insane.”


“Don’t think so. You’ve been the cold cave with the stone in the middle?”

“Yes.”

“Then no, you’re not crazy. The stone gives people abilities...”

“Who are you talking to?” Karen asked from the far side of the room interrupting Eli.

“Eli. You can’t see him?” Hayden asked.

Karen slowly shook her head.

“Well this just got interesting.” Eli said.

"Yes sir. Thank you," Barton responded, nodding wearily. He hadn't considered a cold reading, but something about it still seemed uncanny. Either way, he wanted little more than a nice bed...and a chance to talk to Alex. He normally only called on the week-ends, and also would not call at this hour, but he simply had too much to get out of his mind. He turned and left slowly, remembering that there was a hotel only a block away. He would walk; driving at his state of wakefulness was downright dangerous. As he left the station he doffed his hat, grateful that the rain had abated for the moment at least. A quick stop at the car for his duffel bag of basic personals, and he continued to the hotel.

Once he had reached the inside, he approached the desk. "Hi, I'd like a roo—"

"Agent Temple?" the receptionist interrupted Barton with the sudden question. Barton shook his head. "Barton then," the receptionist amended. Barton nodded. "An Agent Blake called ahead with rooms for each of you. Here's your key. Room's just down the hall, 113."

Barton took the key, nodded thanks, and slowly walked down the hall the young man pointed out for him. The place was surprisingly tasteful in its decoration, with old carpets that seemed worn a bit thin. They could use replacing sometime, he figured. The walls were a pleasing light green shade. The wall inside his room was the same shade. He slid off his jacket and attempted to pull out a tie that was not there before collapsing on the bed, facedown.

A moment later, he found himself sitting in a plain interrogation room. There was no blood. He wore his tie. Theodore Gerhart sat across the table from him.

Barton remembered what this was, but could do nothing to stop it.

The scene proceeded as it had before. Gerhart calmly explained his motive for what he did, impressively quoting passage after passage of Scripture, and other writings. His attorney stood off to the side, clearly cowed, though at the time Barton didn't have the damnedest clue why.

Finally, he asked Barton what he did. Barton mentioned that this grandfather's remains were gathered at the morgue...

And then Gerhart exploded. He grabbed Barton's tie and pulled him forward, smashing his face into the table in a smooth motion. Barton felt warm spit on the back of his neck before he pulled himself back, dazed and pained. Before he could think two officers had restrained the screaming young man, and another was pressing a handkerchief to Barton's nose. He realized it was broken.

A part of Gerhart's rant suddenly stuck out clearly. "I did what I did to save him! The evil inside him; I had to purge it! All the evils outside cannot hurt you. Your soul is your own enemy!" Suddenly the officers vanished, and Gerhart had morphed into the mad bearded face of Kyle Renner...

Barton startled awake, feeling sweat cool on his face. The room was dark; he had forgotten to turn the light on. He slowly eased himself upright and found the lamp, turning it on and shielding his eyes from the incandescent light. He couldn't sleep now. He had to call Alex.

He found the phone on the nightstand, and fished the number out of his discarded jacket's pocket. The phone was a rotary-dial, which he operated carefully, as though he might break it. After being certain he had the number in right, he put the phone to his ear. Three times it rang in his ear before a feminine voice groaned, "Hello?"

"Alex? It's Tom. I'm sorry to call so late, I just...things have been crazy. I had a bit of a nightmare, and I can't sleep anymore. Had to talk to somebody." Barton glanced over at the clock, and winced upon realizing it was almost 4 now. He mentally spun the hands forward, trying to figure out what time it was over in Richmond, where she had eventually settled. 7?

"It's fine. I was going to be up in a few minutes anyhow. Where are you?" At least she had already gotten her sleep.

"This small town way up in Washington called Cartwright Falls. Two students disappeared, one of 'em was found dead way the hell over in Idaho, so they had to call the Bureau in. They sent me with Simon Temple, a younger feller. I haven't seen him for a while. Or heard from him. Shit." Barton paused, wondering what had happened to Simon.

"Go on," Alex prodded after waiting. She knew he was prone to dwelling on things like this, and sometimes he needed a little coaxing.

Tom's voice came through sounding filtered and odd, though still recognizable as his. "Okay, sorry. We got there, and the house of the dead student's family blows up thanks to some gas line sabotage. There's a shootout right around the same time, and the town Sheriff is hit. We managed to get him to the hospital, but he died there. With a bit of poking around, we found out the shooter was an insurance feller from LA who was on the run after killing his wife and her man-on-the-side."

Alex sat up as she listened. "Jesus," she said during the pause. "He came up there to run away?"

"I guess," Tom muttered. "There was a quick manhunt, and one of the deputies and I found him. And he killed himself right in front of me! He cut his...he..." Tom shivered audibly, and Alex swore she heard a sob on the other end. "He slashed his wrist open! He started talking at me while he did it. He knew who you were somehow!" A chill ran through Alex at that. "He was talking about the darkness inside, and said you left because you found something out about me."

"That's bullshit," Alex interrupted. "I left you because I had to be in North Carolina in a week to stay on my travel budget, and I regretted it every day. You remember how we talked after that. I think it was only after March or so that your work and my editing caught up to us. No, I never left you. We fell apart." The very idea that she would have left him voluntarily was absurd.

"I know that," Barton shot back. The edge left his voice as he continued, "That's just what he said. I guess he was talking out of his ass."

"Absolutely," Alex answered. She had to be firm on this point. "You're an FBI suit, Tom. You can't let this get to you, and it always does. I mean, it's good that you feel, but..."

"I know, I know," Tom groaned. "I just...if you were here you might get it. Of course, this is right after the Gerhart business..."

Alex's eyes widened. "The Gerhart...you were involved in that?!" The trial had just hit headlines. Starvation, torture, dismemberment...the media was all over it. It sold terrifically..and disturbed the hell out of Alex in the meantime. And any decent person, which she knew Tom was. She took his silence as confirmation. He must have known things about that she would only find out later if at all. Horrible things. "Christ, Tom, I didn't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so harsh."

"It's fine," Tom interrupted. "You're right. I thought I had this under control, but I didn't. I can't get transferred off this now, not with one Agent presumably missing, and the other guy being who he is..."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. That's another story. I need to sleep. It's only 4 over here. I'll call as I can. You aren't going anywhere, right?"

"Not until next week. I mean, not out of town until next week, if that's what you mean," she responded wryly. Maybe a bit of humor could relieve him. It seemed to work, as she heard him laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Oh, before I go, let me give you the number for this hotel, so you can call too." She quickly found a pen and paper, and scrawled the numbers down as he wrote it, adding a 1 in front for long-distance. "All right, I'll let you have your morning now."

"And I'll let you sleep," Alex responded. "G'night." The click came suddenly, which wasn't really unusual for Tom. Alex sighed, and replaced the receiver before standing up and mentally ordering her day.

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

A scant hour later she was at the library, her hair still freshly damp. She made her way straight to the Web-capable computer section, and passed what looked like game after game before settling at an empty station. She stirred the computer from its sleep, opened America Online, and forged her way through the slightly familiar interface to a search engine. Slowly she typed, "Cartwright Falls, Washington" and started looking through results.

Even with the slight peace of mind gained from his conversation with Alex, Barton still felt a bit unrested when he awoke. In a flash he remembered what he was supposed to be doing today, and glanced over at the clock. Red glowing digits displayed the time clearly: 9:40 AM. What time was the funeral today? 11? 1?

Not wanting to be late to anything, Barton showered and dressed quickly in his usual professional attire, finally feeling complete with a fresh, unbloodied tie, clipped to his shirt carefully. He thought about leaving his pistol, but given the events of yesterday alone he would probably be better served taking it. He had left his rifle in his car, where he would keep it for now, but the Glock stayed with him, he decided. He strapped on the underarm holster, checked to be sure the pistol was in Condition Three (loaded with a full magazine, firing chamber empty, hammer down, safety on), then pulled on the black blazer he used so often to conceal it. Thus ready and as fresh-faced as he was going to get, Barton took his key and left the hotel, nodding to the day-shift receptionist as he did.

At the Sheriff's office, he found Adams waiting in the main room. "Morning Deputy. Any word from Agent Blake?"

Adams looked at him slowly, then took a deep breath before answering, "The only word I got from Agent Blake was to wait for Agent Barton. Apparently he didn't want to repeat himself." His tone conveyed a touch of irritation, and Barton picked up on the likely series of earlier events. Most likely Adams had been on the receiving end of Blake's infamous "shut the ** up until everyone's here" routine.

No point in dwelling on it now, Barton decided. "Well, I'm here. Where is he?" Right to business.

"Agent Blake is in...um, in Sheriff Carter's office," the receptionist announced, having either heard Barton or deduced what he wanted without hearing him.

Barton nodded to her in thanks before crossing the room to the late Sheriff's office, knocking twice with his habitual heaviness, and opening the door slowly. "David? Thomas Barton here, reporting for day 2. Is Simon around?" The quick flurry was done before he stepped into the room. He blinked at the sight of Blake, who frankly looked like trash, worn out and run to the quick.

"David? Thomas Barton here, reporting for day 2. Is Simon around?"

Blake looked glumly at Barton and Adams.

“Take a seat guys. I got some bad news.”

The two men entered the office and sat down across the table from Blake who exhaled loudly while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Agent Temple is dead, car bomb. Deputy Montgomery is missing, we’re working on the presumption she’s been kidnapped. Temple’s family was murdered and we believe they were used to control the agent.”

Blake then launched into his description of the previous nights events.

Before dismissing the two he told them of their duties for the day.

“The funeral of Julian Fellows is today, I want both of you at it covering the sister and a mother as well as keeping your eyes open. If this fucker is a thrill killer I’d say he wouldn’t want to miss this. Apart from that I suggest you get a move on gentlemen.”

He watched as they stood to leave. “Tom I need a quick word.”

Adams didn’t seem to get the message.

“In private.” Blake clarified and Adams left without another word.

“Montgomery is the only person who was near Temple when he died. We need to consider she was involved in some way. If that’s true this whole town might be dirty. Keep an eye on Adams alright?” Blake said quietly.

“Also with a G-man down Regional Director Reynard is insisting a Hostage Rescue Team is deployed.” Anticipating Barton’s negative reaction Blake raised his hands.

“I know, I know last thing we need is a bunch of macho assholes trampling crime scenes but if you find yourself having to do a room clearance you call it in and we send out HRT. Last thing we need is one of this assholes not having your back and pulling a Serpico.”

He waited to see if Barton had anymore questions before returning to his work.

"Take a seat, guys. I got some bad news."

Icy dread creeped into Barton's chest as he slowly sat down. He couldn't...Simon couldn't have...

“Agent Temple is dead, car bomb. Deputy Montgomery is missing, we’re working on the presumption she’s been kidnapped. Temple’s family was murdered and we believe they were used to control the agent.”

"Jesus," Barton exclaimed quietly, before continuing to listen to the recap and the instructions for the day. The funeral, naturally, was a good place to start. Considering the arson the previous day, someone might have a vendetta against the Bishop Family, and at the worst, they might be drawn into the open. At best, nothing would happen and the investigation would continue as it was...hopefully with fewer late-night manhunts, and no more sudden losses. He nodded slowly, and stood to leave.

"Tom, I need a quick word. Alone."

Barton looked back in surprise, then sat as Adams left. He then listened as Blake outlined his concern. He quirked his lips pensively, not sure whether Blake was being paranoid or if he had a legitimate cause for concern. If Adams had wanted to off him, couldn't he have done it up by the mine, or in the mine? Still, he nodded. Better to watch for the attack that never came than to miss the attack that came.

A moment later, his trust in the Bureau's judgement wavered and fell. Hostage rescue? "Oh for Chr-" Barton trailed off as Blake explained Reynard's rationale behind the decision. He nodded slowly, grudgingly, then spoke in response. "As long as they don't jump the gun, I can deal with it. I'll get going to the funeral." With that, he rose slowly and went to the door. As he reached it, something occurred to him, and he turned. "Oh, one more thing David. Did they do an autopsy on Sheriff Carter? He wasn't in that critical condition when I saw him last, and that was before surgery."

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

Less than an hour later, Barton and Adams stood at the funeral. The entire service passed without event up until the burial. Barton stood impassive as final words were said over the casket, and watched as they slowly lowered it into the ground. He glanced over at Cassandra Bishop, who seemed oddly...calm, particularly for a woman who had to see her own child buried. He had spoken to her earlier, and she had seemed equally calm, even passive. Odd. Barton had filed it away for reference.

He glanced over at Deputy Adams. He seemed fidgety, glancing over at something beyond Barton's sight. Unwilling to to admit Blake might be right, he trusted Adams's judgement on whatever it was. A moment later, however, the ball came back to him as Adams crossed the crowd to him. "Tom, you need to see this. There's a man up on the hill, flashing a light at m-urgh!" Adams flinched, his hand going to his stomach. "Sorry, just a cramp. Little short of breath. Probably a remnant of last n-aagh!" He failed to reassure Barton, who quickly supported him with his shoulder and helped him back to his car. He could feel Adams growing weaker by the second. This was bad. Very bad.

He borderline sped through the empty streets to Decker Hospital, stopping quickly outside the emergency room entrance. He helped Adams out, and almost dragged him to the door. Nurses immediately whisked Adams away and began questioning Barton. He answered them quickly, and they left him after a brief explanation, to attend to Adams. Barton blinked, processing the new information, then remembered Adams's last words before he collapsed. A man on the nearby hill.

He sprinted out and into his car, dialing the Sheriff's office on the car phone as he left, steering with his left hand as he held the receiver in his right.

"Cartwright Falls Sheriff's Off-"

"This is Barton, I need to talk to Agent Blake."

"Agent Blake has gone to sleep. I can take a message for when he wakes up."

"Sure, sure. Tell him Adams just had what the doctors think is a heart attack, at the funeral, but I got him to the hospital, and they said he's going to be all right. Again, he's going to be okay. Listen, this part's important: Before he collapsed, Adams mentioned something about a man on the hill, with a light, nearby the funeral. I'm going back there to check right now. I'll report back from here when I get more info. Got that?" After a brief confirmation, Barton hung up without saying any more, and focussed on getting back to the funeral.

He arrived in record time, the funeral party now only partly dispersed. He exited the car quickly, not drawing his pistol but squeezing it briefly and slightly with his arm, just to make sure it was there. He skimmed the area, looking for a hill. Finding only one hill, in the direction he remembered facing away from, Barton immediately accelerated into a jog and reached the hill. He looked around slowly, and found some trace of disturbance. Someone had been here. Recently.

He crested the hill and looked out into the trees beyond, but saw nothing. "Dammit," he muttered.

Blake slapped his forehead.

“Damn it! The autopsy report. It slipped my mind with Temple. I received the report earlier this morning.” He rifled through his desk and produced his report on the death of its previous owner. Blake then handed the report to Barton who thumbed through it. Blake provided a brief synopsis but he knew Barton would still want to read it.

“Ethanol poisoning. They say it was methanol introduced via syringe. Pretty clean too suggesting the killer had some medical skill. Of course he died in a hospital so the suspect list is the length of your arm. I’ve got people reviewing tapes but with the numbers going in and out of his room it’ll be tricky to work out who killed Carter.”

Barton nodded and handed back the report.

After concluding their meeting Barton headed for the door and on to the funeral.

After a few moments Blake stepped out into the lobby of the Sherriff’s Department.

“Agent Blake you look like hell!” A woman’s voice cried.

Blake spun on Justine whose eyes were filled with genuine concern.

“I... I haven’t had much time for sleep.”

“Well right now we’re making time. You go lie down and I’ll field the phones. Nobody will miss you for a few hours besides everyone has been tasked all you’re only waiting for their reports.”

Blake nodded glad in way that someone was giving him permission to sleep.

#
"Can you tell me how to get out of here?"

Eli nodded before walking away from Hayden and the group. He spent a while getting the lay of the land.

They were currently on the third floor of a four story mansion. The mansion was divided loosely into five structures, an east wing connected to the main building by a long corridor. The main building was then connected the west wing via another long corridor. Eli decided to name the structures the east wing, east wing corridor, Main building, west wing corridor and the west wing. Apart from the bedrooms the place was in a poor state of repair.

The group was on the third floor of the west wing. Each wing had four stories except the main wing which seemed to have a large attic space. First the group would have to get out of the west wing which would not be simple considering the many armed men that where milling around the place.

Eli returned and gave his impression of the place to Hayden.

“Seems to me the easiest way out is through the parking garage below the east wing. Looks like you have two options, try to sneak past the guards on the west wing staircase, in the west wing corridor and the rest of the way there or use the west wing crawl space that will bring you to the main building attic. From there you might be able to sneak down to the east wing park garage. Whatever happens you need to get moving.”

#

Cassandra Bishop watched as her son was lowered in the dirt and felt nothing.

The voice was speaking to her, telling her what she must do. For now though she’d have to act the part she was expected to play.

#

Later, at the wake which was being held at the small church hall Cassandra saw her opportunity.

“The kids are all at home Cassandra. They need their mother, it’s time to come home.”

Cassandra dumbly nodded. She knew where she was needed, needed for the first time years. The voice had broken her but rebuilt her stronger and better than before. She now knew where her purpose lay.

At the mansion in the mountains.

She quietly excused herself to go to the bathroom but already she knew where she was going.

She left the church hall and walked to the car park where a white car was waiting just as the voice had promised. A pretty woman with cold eyes sat behind the wheel.

“Don’t be afraid she’s here to help, Cassandra.” The voice said when Cassandra felt a trickle of doubt.
Kyra Gosling got out of the car and approached Cassandra.

“Mrs Bishop, I’m here to bring to Mr Lamont.”

“Lamont?” Cassandra asked.

“Just another member of the family Cassandra.” The voice answered while Kyra looked confused.

Cassandra nodded and followed Kyra to the car.