In the quiet heart of southwestern Wyoming, a small town clings to its small-town ways. But when a sudden boom brings big money and bigger secrets, what’s left of the town they thought they knew?

As usual, I want to than Malady for beta reading, and helping edit.
I'd also like to thank those who comment for their part in beta reading too! :-)

Chapter 27

June 30, 2028

7:46 AM

Agent Marla Keene arrived the next morning, and when she met her, Fran had to admit that cyborg seemed forgiving. Deputy Carlson picked her up at the airstrip at what was colloquially called the “bottom of Grade”. Grade was so named as it sat on a hill. The top was the edge of city limits, at which was the county sheriff’s office. The bottom was an airstrip, situated where the small planes that landed and took off were sheltered from the winds that blew, uninhibited, across the landscape.

He spotted her the moment she stepped off the plane. Her tailored black jacket looked like it was made from graphite – the shirt underneath, looked like it didn’t dare wrinkle. She reminded Carlson of Debra Thompson. He just hoped she was ultimately on the same side as the rest of the law.

She looked at him… no… not at him. He was certain she hadn’t looked at him, but at the cruiser he was in. She moved across the tarmac, and stopped by the passenger door. He reached across and opened the door, and she got in. No wasted speech. Just got in and fastened her seat belt.

As he shifted into gear, he caught sight of the holster under her jacket. It wasn’t a mistake. She’d meant him to see it.

When he parked at the top of Grade, she still hadn’t said a word. The ride had been silent. Utterly. Not an awkward silence—just silence. Anything awkward would’ve been on his part. Not hers.

He started around the cruiser, but she was already out. The door opened, she stood, and that was that. The view from the top of Grade was striking—layers of valley and sky, the kind of thing that made most people pause. Human people, Carlson thought.

Keene didn’t pause. She didn’t glance. She started toward the building like the landscape was irrelevant.

She entered the building and stood directly in front of the counter. Carlson walked in right behind her, and looked at the young woman who was seated behind the computer screen, looking up at the federal agent.

“Serena,” Carlson said to the girl. “This is A…”

“Federal Agent Keene,” the agent said, her voice as flat as if she’d uttered, “resistance is futile.”

Serena blinked. Then she nodded. “Okay… Uh, hi. Uh… Welcome.”

Keene just waited.

“Right this way,” Carlson said, gesturing. He opened a door to the right of the counter, and waited for Keene. She stepped to the side of the door and stopped, clearly intending to follow him. He wasn’t sure he liked that arrangement, and wished he’d had a good view of her fingers. He wondered if there were tubules for depositing nanites in an assimilation victim.

He opened the door to the briefing room and Keene stepped in.

He caught Fran’s eye, and just rolled his. A moment later, he realized Trish Grant had seen and saw a brief smirk which disappeared immediately. He wondered what she was planning.

Agent Keene stated her name, and waited.

Sheriff Trevor Grant stood and held out his hand. “I’m Sheriff Grant,” he said, but Keene didn’t even look at his hand. She didn’t even nod. Instead she looked at Fran like she owed her an explanation for her presence.

“And you are?” Keene said.

Fran’s left eyebrow rose, and Carlson wondered if Keene had just stepped in it.

“I’m Police Chief Fran Smith,” Fran said, not bothering to stand or to hold out a hand.

“I’m Trish Grant,” Trish said, not looking up from her tablet.

“You’re the forensic analyst.” Keene said.

“Yup.”

“I’ll need to see your reports.”

“Yup.”

Keene stood staring at Trish, but the doctor didn’t even look up from her tablet. She took a sip of coffee, made a mark on her screen with her stylus, and took another sip. She still hadn’t looked up at Keene.

Suddenly, from the other end of the table, laughter erupted, and Keene’s head snapped in that direction. “You may ‘s’well si’ down little lady,” a man with no visible means of mastication said.

“I’ll thank you to not call me that,” the agent said, her cyborg mask slipping slightly.

“‘N I’ll thank ya’ not to act like you own th’ place,” he responded. Then his own facade faded, and his face lost its down home expression. “You better understand that you don’t own this town, Agent. You’re a visitor here. Show some respect.” A moment later, his smile returned, he stood, walked over to the agent and held out his hand. “Chick Birdlander, Ma’am.”

She looked at his hand, then slowly took it. He gave it a single pump, pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down.

She did.

“We’ve got one more person we’re waiting for,” Fran said. “As soon as he’s here, we can begin.”

“Gustav Halvorsen,” Chick supplied for Keene’s benefit. “He’s the programmer for General Alarms.”

Keene’s face took on a decidedly unhappy expression. “That’s really not necessary,” she said hesitantly.

“Agent Keene,” Fran put in. “It seems to me that you’ll likely have more success working with Mr. Halvorsen than without. He knows the code well. He wrote it.”

“I don’t need his help understanding the code,” the FBI agent said sharply.

“Nevertheless,” Chick said, the steel of before back in his voice. “You’ll have his help. You may not need his help, but it will be faster with it, and this county needs things figured out quickly.”

Keene didn’t reply, but it was clear she would capitulate. I’ve gotta figure out how he does that, Fran decided. From the look on her face, she’s never given anyone respect until now, but Chick has definitely gotten it.

At that moment, the door opened and Halvorsen entered the room. He saw Keene, and pulled out an empty chair to her right and sat down. “Gustav Halvorsen. I’m the chief programmer of General Alarms.” he said, holding out his hand.

For a moment it looked like Keene would ignore it, but a well timed cough from Chick prompted her to raise hers. “Agent Marla Keene, cyber division, FBI.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Halvorsen said, shaking her hand.

“Likewise,” she said, grudgingly.

Chick motioned to Fran, and she took the lead. “Agent Keene, we’re all excited to see what you can bring to the table. I’m certain you’ll want to be brought up to speed with what Mr. Halvorsen has found out. To that end, I’ll let him fill all of us in at once.”

Keene nodded. Almost imperceptibly, but enough for Fran and more importantly, Chick to see.

The old man smiled and leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest. Keene was starting to realize that the chair was probably the only thing that got away with protesting anything Chick did.

Carlson handed Halvorsen an HDMI cable, which the programmer plugged into the side of his laptop. He opened the laptop and began to speak.

“Well, we’ve got the proverbial good news and bad news,” he said.

“Whatever order you wish to give it to us in,” Fran told him.

“Well, things go pretty deep, and while I’m not entirely sure yet, I don’t think anyone is receiving the codes.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?” Carlson asked.

“Well, that’s the bad, and honestly, you may not see the good as good, but I’ve decided I’m glad Mr. Ross was stopped when he was.”

“Why?” Chick asked, his voice full of steel again.

“I’ve found some things I want to point out to you all.” Halvorsen put an image on the wall screen behind him. Keene didn’t turn around -- she could clearly see the laptop’s screen.

There was an audible gasp from Trish as she looked at the screen.

“Please tell me this was stopped before any of it was implemented,” Trey said, his voice strained.

“Thankfully, yes. That’s the good news.”

The screen showed multiple statewide, and federal government contracts. California, Nevada, and Wyoming had several state contracts which were shown in green. Utah and Arizona had some marked in red, while several other states, including Colorado, Idaho, and Oregon were displaying some in yellow.

“Green are active contracts?” Keene asked.

“Yes. Yellow are in the making, and red are ones that did exist, but were abandoned by the states,” Halvorsen explained.

“The yellow for Washington DC?” Fran asked.

“We’d approached the federal government, but it hadn’t been set in stone yet.”

“Would we have known anything about the codes if Ross hadn’t’ve died?” Chick asked.

“It’s difficult to say,” Halvorsen admitted. “If Ross was keeping a close eye on things, he might have warded off any breakdown of the code before it had been noticed.”

“You wouldn’t have known?” Trey was surprised.

“Sheriff, if there was no reason for me to decompile the code, I wouldn’t have.” He sighed. “You see, things don’t necessarily decompile into the same code I wrote them with. I might write a case statement that compiles and works fine, but it’s decompiled as an elseif statement.” He paused, hoping he was being understood. So far, it appeared so.

Keene added, “When you have working code complete with self-documentation, and it’s running fine, why decompile it? When it’s running smoothly, there’s no reason to suspect there’s anything there that you didn’t put in.”

Fran looked closely at the agent. Why was she defending Halvorsen? Granted, she thought, why would Halvorsen show this to everyone if he had written the backdoor? She couldn’t think of a logical reason.

She glanced at Chick, who hadn’t moved. His silence was deliberate. She could see just enough question in his eyes to know he was watching carefully as well.

Chapter 28

July 1st, 2028

12:47 PM

Fran hadn’t met Sylvie before, but when the older woman walked into the police station, it was as if she’d known her for a long time. Denise had the fair skin, black hair, and pale eyes that made her look Irish – black Irish.

Interestingly, while Fran’s last name was Smith, her mother’s family was Irish. O’Keefe, to be exact. Denise and Fran could easily be taken for mother and daughter, as Fran’s coloring was very similar.

But Sylvie had lighter hair, even a bit lighter than the sandy hair her brother had.

Fran made a mental note to look up a description of Peg. Denise was obviously not cast in the same mold as her grandfather and his sister.

Denise had come to the station with Sylvie.

“Hi, Mom!” Denise said as she hurried over to give Fran a hug. Sylvie was carrying a couple of bags that had the name of Campbell’s MidGrade Store on them.

The town’s General Store was generally referred to as MidGrade and was slightly higher than midway up the ‘grade’, but it was owned by an older woman who bore a resemblance to that part of Elroy Birdlander that didn’t mirror his father.

The story was that Verna Campbell was Birdy Birdlander’s younger sister, and therefore Elroy’s aunt. Fran chose to accept that explanation, rather than wonder about the soap opera of small town life. It just seemed safer, especially where Chick was concerned.

From the bags held by Sylvie, a wonderful scent was emanating. Regardless of familial ties that she’d rather not explore, Verna Campbell was well known as being as good a chef as her sister, Birdy, had been.

“We were going to kidnap you for lunch, but Aunt Sylvie said we could just have lunch here if you want.”

“Denise said you wanted to find out what I could tell you about Charlie,” Sylvie supplied. “When she said you’d left home without breakfast, I thought maybe you could use some food.”

“Is that fried chicken?” Fran asked, smiling.

“You can’t have Verna’s potato salad without fried chicken,” Denise said, moving things out of the way on one of the tables. She grabbed the bags from her aunt and started pulling items out of them and setting up three place settings.

Denise also prepared a plate for Sylvie, who sat down, in between Fran and Denise’s spot. She wanted to get to know this woman who had taken in her grand-niece.

Fran hadn’t been avoiding eating, but the need hadn’t been weighing heavily on her mind. Now, however, she realized that she was indeed, hungry. She sat down and Denise played host – grabbed Fran’s plate and put some chicken, potato salad, and baked beans on it. Next, Denise grabbed a soda out of the other bag and handed it over.

While they ate, Sylvie and Fran engaged in get-to-know-each-other small talk. Fran told her about her time in the LA academy, and how she, Trevor, and Trish had been friends during that time. She glossed over her childhood with Trey, as she didn’t want to create any rumors in town.

Once they finished eating, the conversation gravitated toward Charlie’s disappearance.

“Charlie was reminded of the case of Cyndi and Dennis by the case of Ross and Parker,” Sylvie told Fran.

“How so?” Fran asked. She hated to talk about this with Denise around, but she assumed that the girl had heard how her parents died.

“I’m not sure of all the facts, but the fact that scopalomine was used in the death of Ross and Parker bothered him.” Sylvie glanced at Denise, but felt that she had a right to know what happened. “One night, in the middle of a blizzard, Dennis went to the barn to take care of their animals. They had a fence between the house and the barn, and as long as one held onto the fence, they could make it safely between the two buildings.”

She paused, and took a deep breath. “We’re not sure of the exact sequence of events, but Cyndi apparently followed him out, injected scopolamine into his backside. It’s speculated that she snuck up behind him and injected it. Anyway, with a sufficient dose, she ordered him to hang himself, and he did.”

Fran looked at Denise to see how she was reacting, but the girl was simply listening with interest. “Why would she do that?” Fran asked.

“She was found in her room with a bullet hole in her temple, and a note on her desk. She had discovered that Dennis was having an affair with a girl at school. Lizbeth Coleridge.”

“Elroy’s wife?” Fran asked.

“Yes,” Sylvie confirmed. “This isn’t widely known, by the way, but Lizbeth confirmed it.”

“Was Ginny Dad’s?” Denise asked quietly. She thought about the crush she’d had on Ginny all through school.

“I don’t know,” Sylvie said. “I really don’t know.”

Fran was stunned. Lizbeth was Charlie’s daughter, and if Ginny was Dennis’s, it just made the relations in Venture and Grade completely confusing.

Fran didn’t know what to say. Finally, she carefully asked, “Did Cyndi know everything about Lizbeth?”

“Everything?” Denise asked. “What do you mean everything?”

Sylvie looked sadly at Denise. “Your father wasn’t the only one who had relations with Lizbeth,” she said slowly. “Your grandpa is her father.”

“What!?” Denise asked, almost shouting.

“I knew about it because… Well, I’m your grandpa’s sister. It happened before he married your grandma, so it’s not like…”

She paused, looking dejected. “Yes it was. He had been going steady with Peg all through junior high and high school. He got drunk one night and had a one night stand with Chelsea, Lizbeth’s mother. But that was enough.”

“Do Chick and Elroy know about this?” Fran wondered.

“It all came out when Cyndi’s letter was found. There was never a trial, but in a town the size of Grade, things get around.”

Fran remembered the line from the saying on the wall of the Chicken Coop. “We spread gossip.” “It’s always that way in small towns,” she said, nodding.

“They say nothing can travel faster than light, but that’s not true,” Sylvie said wryly. “Gossip in Grade and Venture does.”

Denise stood and went over to the bulletin board where Fran kept pictures of the people involved in a crime as well as her darts. She stared at the picture of Ginny, tears coming to her eyes. Her cousin, she realized, and maybe her sister.

“I think this whole thing got to Charlie. Ginny’s death, the remembrance of Cyndi’s murder of Dennis, not to mention Cyndi’s suicide.”

Suddenly, Denise asked a question. “Is there anything else you need to tell me, Aunt Sylvie?”

“Not that I know of,” Sylvie responded.

“No other relations?”

“No.”

“Then how come you and Grandpa look just like Julie and Millie?”

Chapter 29

Fran stood and walked slowly to the bulletin board. So did Sylvie. Carefully, Fran removed both of the pictures and held them up beside Sylvie.

The older woman’s eyes were wide as Fran examined all three faces. “Are you sure you don’t know of any relations?” Fran asked.

“I’m telling you the truth,” she said, her voice low, but firm.

Fran slowly turned the pictures so Sylvie could see the faces. “I’m beginning to think the populations of Grade and Venture are one big, happy family.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Although happy might not be the right word.”

Sylvie, dazed, reached out and took the pictures, one in each hand. After a moment, she opened the mirror app on her phone and held the photos beside her reflection. Julie’s hair was darker and longer. Her makeup heavier. Millie had short, red hair, and a different palette of makeup, but the resemblance was undeniable.

Fran walked over to her desk and picked up the phone. She pressed a speed dial number, then said, “Trish, could you compare Julie and Millie for relationship. Also, check them against Charlie Goldman’s.”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

“Okay. Let me know when you’ve got some results,” she finally said.

-=#=-

At the General Alarms IT department, Halvorsen and Keene were going through records, one step at a time. There were lots of them that needed to be sifted through.

The two had developed, if not a comfortable working relationship, at least it was civil and respectful.

“Agent Keene,” Halvorsen suddenly said. “I'd like your opinion on this.” Something he found struck him as different. Something that seemed odd for General Alarms to have in its database.

Agent Keene glanced at the screen, then took a deeper look.

Lot 15796b

Undeveloped

Geological survey conducted: Red Fehr Geologic Oddities

Seismic reflection surveys show fault and probable geothermal features.

Salt, shale and hydrocarbons. Appear likely.

GPR confirms.

“Why does a security company have this type of information?” Keene asked. “Do they normally keep this on properties?”

“That's why I asked for your opinion. If it were being developed, I could almost justify it, but I checked. There isn't any indication of a buyer for lot 15796b. Not even any suggestion anyone is making an overture.”

He let that sink in. Then added a bit more info. “This didn't get entered through normal means either.” He pressed a couple of keys and the screen brought up a line of code.

“That's not the same backdoor Ross used,” Keene said. "It's sloppy too, but..." She stared at a line of code. “What the…”

Halvorsen smiled. “Figured you'd see it. That was my response too. Only I added in a word or two. You got the basic gist, though.”

“Are there any more, I wonder,” Keene said. She typed in a search, and came up with 17 more cases where similar data was stored.

Halvorsen gave a low whistle. “I'm glad we found this before someone erased it.”

“Wanna call up the cavalry?” Keene asked. “I've got an idea what was going on. But we need to let them know. Maybe I'm wrong.”

Halvorsen stared at her for a minute. He didn't expect to hear that admission from her, but if her idea was the same as hers. Something was really messed up.

-=#=-

A few minutes later the same people from the previous meeting were on the screen. Halvorsen noticed that the DA had his nebulizer ready. He smiled to himself. Good. You're gonna need it.

“Well,” said Halvorsen, “we found some things that don't belong in a security computer.”

“I'd say you already found things that don't belong,” said the DA, mopping his brow.

I hope this doesn't kill him, Keene thought. She didn't say it, as it wouldn't be in her character.

Chick noticed too. “You okay, Quade?”

“Just get on with it,” the DA wheezed.

“Stop the cigarettes and you'll feel better,” Gutierrez said.

“At my age?” Quade tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a wheezing cough. “Besides. Probably wouldn't help. I've got COPD.”

Chick sighed. He'd known Benton Quade for years. They'd even been friends until the job of DA had put them at odds.

“Whatcha got,” he asked Halvorsen.

“We found 17 lots listed in the General Alarms computer that are undeveloped, and don't even show someone thinking of buying them.”

“Each lot,” said Keene, “has been surveyed by Red Fehr Geological Oddities”

Chick thought a moment. “Do you know what the surveys showed?” His voice had none of its country boy accent at the moment.

“Shale. Salt. Volcanic activity.” Halvorsen looked to Keene, and allowed her to give the kicker.

“Oil,” she said.

Tilda Wright and Ray Calder both erupted, and Quade started coughing hard. The judge and Chick however, seemed to take it in stride.

Gutierrez's eyes moved to Chick on his screen. “I wanna know who hired Red.”

“I'm pretty sure he doesn't know,” Chick said, impassively.

“I agree,” Halvorsen said, nodding “There was a routine in the computer that would dump the information to someone's terminal, then immediately dump it from the database.”

“Covering their tracks,” Fran said.

“I doubt it was Ross,” said Trey. “He didn't cover his tracks on his backdoor.”

“This is another backdoor,” said Halvorsen. “But it's sloppier and more designed to clear the info.”

He looked at her screen and once again, gave a low whistle. “Wow!”. He looked a little closer. “This would crash the whole system!” he suddenly exclaimed.”

“It's like running rm -Rf in root,” said Keene. “You'd never know it was running till too late.”

-=#=-

The next day, Trish called Fran and asked her to meet her, Trey, and Sylvie at the Sheriff’s office.

Fran climbed into Bluebird and drove carefully to the Top of the Grade. Her mind kept drifting. Sylvie’s inclusion in the meeting gnawed at her. Why Sylvie? Unless… there’s a relation.

When she arrived, Sylvie wasn’t there, but Trish had four copies of a report in her hand. They waited for a few minutes, but Sylvie didn’t show. Finally, Trish asked them to accompany her to the briefing room, and Trey asked Serena to have Carlson do a check on Sylvie.

Trish made sure the door was locked before she sat down, which made Fran wonder even more.

“I ran the check you asked for,” she told Fran. “There isn’t a match, but I did find something interesting.” She handed both a copy of the report. “I’m ashamed I didn’t find this before, but honestly, I wasn’t looking for it.”

“The DNA I collected from the blood samples of Julie and Millie were definitely theirs, according to the database, but they can’t be.”

“Why?” Trey asked, surprised.

“They’re from children.”

“How do you know that?” Fran asked.

“Growth hormones, prepubescent levels of sex hormones. Elevated phosphatase, Fetal hemoglobin. I ran other checks, and everything says these blood samples were from very young children.”

Fran’s face went pale. “Are you saying we need to look for… dead babies?”

Trish sighed. “No. The blood was frozen. For years… Maybe decades.”

“Why?” Trey asked. “Why would someone do that?”

Trish looked down at the report, as if the answer was there. Finally, she said, “The only reason I can think of is—they didn’t want us to know who they really were.”

The words hung in the air. Heavy and final.

Chapter 30

Trey picked up the phone in front of him. “Serena, what’s Carlson found?”

“He’s knocking on her door right now,” she responded.

A few tense minutes passed.

“There’s no response,” Serena said.

“Do you think Sylvie knows something about Julie and Millie?” Fran asked.

“I tried to pull Sylvie’s DNA from the pictures of Millie and Julie,” Trish said, “but I didn’t find hers. Only yours, Charlie’s, and Trey’s.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten fingerprints either,” Fran said. “We’d just eaten fried chicken. Sylvie wiped the pictures off when she looked at them.”

Trish tilted her head, her expression shifting.

“Grease from the chicken?” Fran offered.

“I did find a bit of chicken grease when I swabbed them,” Trish said quietly, “but not on the face. Just around the edges.”

“Where it’s most likely Sylvie handled them,” Trey pointed out.

“What’s going on?” Fran wondered. “What was in that diary? Was there something incriminating to Sylvie? Did she do something to her brother because of it? Did he figure it out?”

“Doesn’t Denise have a copy of it?” Trish asked.

Trey shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.” He looked at Fran. “Sylvie gave that copy to Denise. Why give her a copy if there’s something so damaging to her that it made her do something to Charlie?”

“What if Sylvie’s telling the truth?” Trish asked. “I don’t see anything here that says she’s not.”

“Then why disappear?” Fran asked.

“I’m not saying it’s not strange, but we don’t know that Sylvie’s done anything to Charlie. We don’t know that the diary said anything that would hurt her.”

“True,” Fran said. “But we do know that there’s an extreme similarity in her appearance and that of Julie and Millie.”

“How come you didn’t notice before?” Trey asked.

“I just met Sylvie yesterday!”

“Yeah, but you worked closely with Julie. And Millie had become a confidant. You knew both of them.”

Fran stood up, glaring at him. “They had different last names, Trey, and I had no reason to suspect any connection between them other than the obvious.” She paused, then added pointedly, “And you?”

Trey grimaced. “I didn’t know Julie well. But I’ve seen the pictures enough over the last few months. Still, seeing photos isn’t the same as seeing someone in person. A pose can make someone who bears no resemblance in real life look eerily similar.”

“You’re right,” Fran said, nodding slowly. “And now that I’m replaying my memories of both women… I can’t really separate them. It’s like the resemblance is burned in, and my objectivity is shot. I can practically see either one in place of the other.” She sat down, her counterjab spent.

Trey nodded. “I feel the same way.” He closed his eyes and leaned back—a mannerism borrowed from one of his favorite, if chauvinistic, fictional detectives.

“What are you thinking, Mr. Wolfe?” Fran asked as his lips began to work in and out.

Trey opened one eye, scowled, then closed it again. After a moment, he asked, “Have we searched county records to see if Charlie and Sylvie have any siblings?”

“Not yet,” Trish said. “Honestly, it’s on my to-do list.”

“What about the diary?”

“I have the soft copy he sent me. Let’s start with that.”

“We still need Denise’s version,” Trish said. “It’s been handled by her, but maybe I can pull Sylvie’s DNA from it.”

“Let’s check everything we’ve got from Julie and Millie,” Fran said. “There’s stuff from their homes we never tested. Maybe we’ll find DNA that explains how this soap opera works.”

“While we’re at it,” Trish muttered, “why don’t I test everyone else involved too. Seems like there’s family intrigue all over Venture and Grade.”

Chapter 31

July 3rd, 2028

3:35 PM

Fran lay on her bed, propped up so she could see the tablet beside her. On the screen was a virtual copy of the diary found in the pipe—unrolled by sophisticated software and rendered as the MRI and CAT scans interpreted it.

The guesswork was nearly gone, but she could still toggle between what AncientRead thought it saw and what it actually saw. She was glad for that. Computers had facts. Humans had intuition.

She’d spent most of the day reading about Charlie’s work as sheriff, Peg’s routines at home, what she cooked for dinner, and how frustrated she was that Charlie hadn’t picked up his dirty socks again.

Then, catastrophe struck. Charlie came into the house with a strange look on his face. Peg asked what was wrong. Charlie told her about Denny. And Cyndi.

Fran imagined it like a tsunami hitting the shore in waves. First: Denny, found hanged. Then: Cyndi, with a bullet in her temple. The suicide note: accusing Denny of infidelity. The toxicology report: scopolamine in his system. The realization: Cyndi had used it to make him compliant—to make him hang himself.

Peg’s tone changed after that. She kept writing, but her mood was sad.

March 20, 2014

Charlie came home. He says there’s nothing he can do about the case. He’s turned it over to Alan, his senior deputy.

Alan? Fran looked the name up on the sheriff’s office Alan Wagner? Thought Fran. Coleman’s the senior.

He seems happy that he can’t argue with Alan. Maybe he feels too close, but Cyndi’s his daughter! He should argue!

March 23, 2014

The case is over. Open and shut. Alan has settled it, but he says he’s gone. GOOD! Finding Cyndi guilty of hanging Denny and then killing herself.

Charlie says he just followed the evidence.

Well the evidence is WRONG!

Cyndi wouldn’t do that!

Scopalamine??? To MAKE Denny hang himself?

There is NO WAY she would do that to him! Even with infidelity involved!

Fran stared at the screen. What is the deal? Why did Wagner quit? She made a mental note to talk to Trey. They needed to look at the evidence. Maybe this had nothing to do with Charlie's disappearance. But she was going to follow every lead.

July 4th, 2028

9:00 AM

The Fourth of July parade was set to roll out halfway between Grade and Venture. Both towns wanted it on their own turf, but Grade’s streets were anything but level—the town’s namesake slope hovered around 9%, making a parade there more of a downhill sprint or a tug-of-war with gravity, depending on your direction.

Instead, the event would take place in Midway, a small patch of flat land at the bottom of the valley, not far from Beaver Pond. A few commercial buildings had begun to sprout there, staking quiet claims in the only terrain that didn’t tilt. A mile or two south lay Crab Pot, and Midway Road traced the creek, weaving through some of the only trees stubborn enough to take root in the area.

It was a bright morning, with a few clouds lingering on the horizon. True to his word, Chick had the Amphicar prepped and gleaming—ready for Denise to roller ski behind it in the parade.

“I’m not sure about this,” Denise told Fran, checking for the third time that her swimsuit covered everything she needed it to.

Everyone knew she was a trans woman, but knowing and seeing were two very different things.

“You look great, Sweetheart,” Fran said, hovering like any mother would. Denise’s hair had grown out since the March blizzard when they first met, but Josie Campbell, Grade’s modern-day equivalent to Floyd the Barber, had helped with extensions. Now it was pulled into a curly ponytail.

Her swimsuit was a dark blue one-piece as she’d refused a bikini, and her sunglasses matched.

Fran was smoothing sunscreen across her back when—

“Mom!”

The word was sharp, sudden, and had nothing to do with sunscreen. Fran froze.

“Isn’t that…?” Denise didn’t finish. She pointed.

“What’s wrong?”

A man walking along the street turned at her voice, saw them, and bolted.

Fran dropped the sunscreen, grabbed her phone, and sprinted. She hit speed dial.

In the Amphicar, Chick’s phone rang. “Right now!?” he muttered, then answered. “911, what are you reporting?”

“Chick, get ahold of Trey. I just spotted Reggie and I’m in pursuit on foot!”

“What!?” Chick checked his rearview mirror. Denise was still standing, roller skis ready, but staring left.

He thumbed a button. “Putting you through,” he said, scanning for Fran.

“Elroy!” he shouted, muting his mic. “Getcher drone in the air! Follow the guy Fran’s chasing!”

“You got it, Pa!” Elroy said. He’d recognized Reggie instantly, and had no problem helping chase down the man who might’ve killed his daughter.

As the drone shot skyward, Chick connected Fran and Trey.

Fran kept running, reporting to Trey, and by extension, Chick. Not that she minded Chick knowing. He’d muted his mic, but when he yelled for Elroy, he yelled for Elroy. She’d heard him from the middle of the street.

She didn’t hang up. She secured her phone in its holster, kept her Bluetooth on, and kept moving. Trey would probably lecture her about cardio later. So be it. She had a daughter who could cook. Blessing and curse.

Up ahead, Reggie glanced back, then veered left past the Sinclair station, heading down the last slope toward the creek.

Fran saw the drone dart left, tracking him. She passed the sign, turned toward the creek, and heard the splash. Reggie was slogging through knee-deep muck and water.

“He’s in the creek,” she reported, then muttered, “Doesn’t work that way, Reggie. You just slowed yourself down.”

He reached the far bank just as Fran planted her feet and shouted, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Reggie didn’t stop. He dove for cover, vanishing behind a waterfront tree. She caught a glimpse between trunk and brush, but didn’t dare take the shot. Too many businesses on the other side.

She hurried, as much as one could, through the muddy creek but when she arrived at the other side, she didn’t see him. “Which way?” she hollered for Chick.

“Whaddya mean, he disappeared?” Chick’s voice blasted through her Bluetooth. He was clearly shouting at Elroy, and he hadn’t muted his mic this time.

“He got into that brush, Pa! I’m tryin’ to find him.”

She heard the increase in the drone’s rotors, and watched it spring upward while Elroy gave himself height to widen his view.

“Get some bloodhounds out there, Coleman!” she heard Trey holler on his end of the call.

Fran sprinted to the street and looked right and left. On this side of the creek, the businesses were older, smaller, and more community-minded. Many were shut down while their owners watched the parade on the other side.

Glancing at her watch, Fran saw it was only ten minutes to parade time. People were milling around, making it harder to spot anyone in particular. She noticed a bookstore being locked up, and a candy maker shuttering his windows.

Suddenly, a big man stormed out of his store carrying something. He threw it into the street.

“And stay out!” he shouted.

Fran turned and stared. The man had just tossed Reggie out of his bakery like he was a cat or a small dog.

Fran hurried over, stopped beside the bedraggled figure, and almost laughing, ordered, “Roll onto your stomach and put your hands behind you.”

As she cuffed him, she informed him of his rights, then said, “Trey, I’ve got a present for you.”

“On my way,” he told her.

-=#=-

As soon as Wagner picked up Reggie, Fran returned to the parade route. The Amphicar was already on its way, so she parked in the Walmart lot near the end of the route.

When people saw the Amphicar with its propeller spinning and Denise ‘waterskiing’ behind it, they cheered!

The fact that an Amphicar couldn’t actually reach waterskiing speed was beside the point. It looked fabulous, and the kids tossing candy from the back seat didn’t hurt either.

Chick’s entry was always the parade’s finale, so the crowd began to spill into the street behind Denise, with Fran among them. They followed the tail end of the procession, kids darting around in hopes of snagging candy missed by the sidelines.

Alas, their dinners would remain unspoiled.

As soon as they stopped, Fran joined her beaming daughter. “How was it?” she asked, rather unnecessarily.

“I loved it,” Denise enthused. “Everyone was cheering for Chick, but then when they recognized me, I heard people cheering my name too! It was wonderful to hear!”

As soon as Denise stepped out of the rollerskis, she found that she needed to get her balance. After stumbling a moment, she stood up straight and asked, “Did you catch Reggie?”

Fran nodded. “I need to stop by Trey’s office before we head over to Chick’s. Hope you don’t mind.”

“As long as Chick saves some burgers for us, I’m good with it. Besides; I want to know what Reggie has to say for himself.”

Her determined tone made Fran wonder what she would say if Reggie turned out to be innocent of Ginny’s murder.

“You gonna go see what he’s got to say?” Chick asked when Fran brought the skis and tow rope to the car.

“This is definitely not an ideal situation for Reggie. If he goes to trial for murder, he’s not going to get a fair trial,” Fran observed.

“He’ll have to be tried outside of Grade, that’s sure,” Chick agreed.

“What do you think of that?” Fran asked him.

“If’n he’s innocent, I don’t want him to go to trial. Liken ya’ say, Fran. He won’t get a fair shake. If’n he’s innocent, you better prove it before the DA gets ahold of him. He goes to trial here, he’ll get the death penalty, plain and simple.”

Fran and Denise made their way through the throng, back to Fran’s F150, being stopped several times to congratulate Denise on her ‘waterskiing’ and her presence as Denise, not of Denny. Fran was a bit concerned, the number of people who brought up Denise’s change, but thankfully, the girl took it well.

Once they arrived at the Station, Denise started to get out but Fran stopped her. “You can come in if you want, but I can’t let you into the interview room where we’re talking to Reggie.”

Denise didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “I understand. Sometimes Grandpa would let me wait in the conference room when he needed to stop by and talk to a prisoner. I can do that?”

They went inside just as Serena sat back down behind her desk. “Hi, ya’ll!” she chirped. “Loved the waterskis, Denise!” She motioned behind her to a hallway. “Sheriff’s in interview room one, Chief. You can go back if you want.”

“Sounds good.” Fran made her way around a couple of desks and into the hallway, leaving Serena and Denise giggling over the more outlandish parade floats.

She knocked on the door to interview room one. A moment later, Trey opened it. Inside sat Reggie, hunched beside a table with a can of Sam’s Cola.

Trey pulled up a chair for Fran and sat down. “Wanna tell Chief Smith what you told me?”

Reggie nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for running, Chief Smith. I just wanted one last bit of freedom before I was locked up for good.”

“What?” Fran asked, confused.

“Well, after what I did to Debra, I figure I’ll get life—or probably death.”

“And what did you do to Debra? You’re talking about your sister, right?”

“Yeah. Debra’s my sister. After she locked Ginny in that freezer, I figured she deserved to die. She was always a psycho, but I never knew her to kill anyone.”

“How do you know Debra killed Ginny?” Trey asked.

“She told me. Said it was to get rid of anything that made me loyal to Grade County. She laughed about the ‘power’ she had over me. Only she didn’t.”

“How come you’re telling us about this?” Fran wondered.

“I kept track of what was going on, and I didn’t want Bill to get pinned with Debra’s murder. He didn’t do it. I did. Bill’s a decent guy, and really got roped into this whole mess by Debra. Honestly, I don’t think Ross or Parker would have done it without Debra’s push, but Bill, and Mitch… They’re good kids. They didn’t have anything to do with it. Not really.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Reggie, but Bill kinda got himself roped in as an accessory.”

Reggie sighed. “I get that, but can’t you go easy on him? He had a rough time—lost his dad, then had to live with a twin who made life hell. She made it rough for everyone, Chief. Please… go easy on him.”

Fran tilted her head. “When we tried to talk to you before, you were pretty rude to Sheriff Goldman and me. What’s changed?”

“I guess I was still under Debra’s control,” Reggie said. “But when she did that to Ginny… that was the last straw. I came unglued.”

“She tried telling me that there was a lot more at stake then simply flipping properties at high volume.” He paused. “You know about that?”

“Tell us about it,” Trey ordered. He leaned back in his chair like he was preparing for a long, drawn out story.

“Well,” Reggie said. “Ross and Parker. They were under the impression that Debra just wanted to buy property at low prices and sell it at market value. Maybe a little more. But she inferred that she had bigger ideas.”

Fran and Trey glanced at each other, suddenly understanding a lot more about the events.

Reggie sighed. “She treated everyone like they were her plaything, Chief. She had stuff on all of us that we didn’t want to get out. Indiscretions, dabbling outside the law, you name it. I had no mercy when I snapped, and I did some pretty bad things to her. I don’t know if I’m sorry or not. It was bad—but it felt deserved. Especially after she locked Ginny in that freezer, knowing she’d freeze to death. That was…”

Tears welled in his eyes and began to fall. “I really did love Ginny. Jaime didn’t know it, but we’d talked quite a bit before she broke up with him.” He paused and looked sorrowful. “Please don’t tell Jaime that. He doesn’t need to know. I’d rather he think I was just something that happened in a moment of anger on her part.”

Fran looked over at Trey, curious what he thought of that revelation. He spread his arms in a gesture that clearly said he didn’t know. She wasn’t sure either.

She stood up. “Sheriff, can I speak to you for a moment?”

Trey stood and followed her out of the room, locking the door behind them. Not wanting anyone else privy to their conversation, they stepped into interview room two. Neither sat; they only intended to compare notes for a moment.

“What’s going on here, Trey?”

“This isn’t how I expected this interview to go,” he admitted.

“Even if he’s being truthful about Debra killing Ginny... there’s no way to verify it.”

“Yes, but he’s confessed to killing Debra.”

Fran shook her head. “I think he’s being truthful about Bill and Mitch. It sounds like Debra was hell on wheels all her life, and honestly... everyone’s better off with her gone.”

Trey nodded slowly. “I understand how you feel, Fran; and personally, I think he’s telling the truth too... but killing anyone is wrong. It’s illegal.”

“So if he gets convicted for this, and he almost certainly will as we’ve got him admitting it on video, he’ll get the death penalty. Is that wrong too?”

Trey sighed. “Fran, I’m not for the death penalty, regardless... but it's the legal ending for someone who did what Reggie’s admitting to.”

“He hasn’t specified what he did to Debra.”

“Not to you, Fran... but he did to me before you arrived. And everything checks out.”

Fran sighed. “I get what you’re saying, Trey. It was wrong to kill her... but from what we’ve heard from both her brothers, I might have done the same thing.