A Hangover Cure

It was one of those slow days at the office, made worse by the previous night’s drinking. I usually plowed through all the little human-interest stories Wayne assigned me with time to spare, but even on the best of days, The Chronicle offices were stuffy and uncomfortable so I would take frequent walks in the back lot to get some fresh air. Unfortunately, I was on a deadline and had caught Wayne checking on me at least twice between trips to the coffee maker to make sure I was making progress on my assignments. There was nothing left to do but hunker down at my desk and try to crank out the drivel that we passed for news.

In spite of the headache and the boredom, I did my best to stay focused on the work at hand. I guzzled black coffee and trudged on like a good soldier. But the real obstacle to making progress that morning was Misty. I couldn't stop thinking about her. About her fingertips trailing down my sides, her mouth warm and wet as we kissed. Had I been back in Boston, I probably wouldn’t have been so wrapped up in what was, in all probability, nothing but a one-night-stand. I suppose the newfound isolation I experienced in Cold Hollow had left me feeling particularly lonely. I was aching for a real human connection and Misty had given me a tantalizing dose of it. The trouble was, I wanted more, but I needed her as a source. She was the first and best lead I’d encountered since I arrived in town.

I got the sense from Misty that the Senator’s connection to thedisappearance of Lilly and her friend Nicole was the talk of the town. The fact that I hadn’t yet heard of the family’s involvement meant that I was hanging out in the wrong places or with the wrong people, or both. I considered calling Misty and asking her to set up a meeting with me and her friend Rachel who had been at the McClinton’s place on the night of the party, but I knew how that would look. Either she would think I was looking for excuses to meet up again, or that I had just been using her to get to Rachel from the beginning. Either would be bad and probably blow the lead, not to mention my chances of spending any more after-hours time together.

I put it out of my mind for the time being and pushed through a few phone calls and finished up the first draft of an article Wayne had me working on. It was a fascinating story about the Cold Hollow historical society’s recent attempts at preserving records from the county courthouse, despite its desperate need for a new roof. By noon, my eyes were getting heavy and I had to fight not to nod off at my desk. Deciding some lunch was in order to keep me from falling asleep sitting up, I took another huge gulp of coffee and headed towards Wayne’s office. He was chained to his desk most of the time and seemed to appreciate whenever I offered to bring him back some food.

I was halfway down the hall when I heard Wayne talking to someone through his open door.

“Yeah, I know... Uh-huh... Yeah... Right, I understand... Of course, I understand, such a request would never come directly from the Senator. I appreciate you taking the initiative and looking out for your boss.” He chuckled, bitterly.

My mind whirled and I pressed myself up against the wall to listen better. Was Wayne talking to someone from McClinton’s office? “You have my assurances. We’ll make sure there’s no mention of Lilly or the other one––what’s her name?––Nicole, right. We’ll make sure there’s no mention of her name either...Uh-huh. Yes, yes. The Senator has nothing to worry about. Except getting that budget passed. Heh…Alright. Bye.”

I didn’t want to believe what I had just heard. There was no way Wayne was being bullied into not covering Lilly and Nicole’s disappearance. It was a huge story. I waited a few more moments outside of his office before I knocked on the doorframe and let myself in.

Wayne was sitting at his desk staring down at his feet and pinching the bridge of his nose. His glasses were upside down on the desk and he looked just as tired as I was. I wondered if Wayne had someone waiting at home for him. I’d heard he’d been married once before, but guys like him were never really with anyone.

“Hey, Wayne,” I said trying to sound casual.

He looked up, his face humorless and blank as always. “Kelly.”

I knew the best thing for me to do would be to act like I hadn’t heard any of the conversation, but my gut was telling me to push forward.

We were both quiet for a moment before I finally bucked up the courage. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you know, but I couldn’t help but overhear your call. So, we’re not going to cover the Senator’s missing daughter and her friend?”

Wayne threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on top of his knuckles. He shook his head and sighed, never once looking me in the eyes. “Kelly, you’ve already got assignments you need to be working on.”

I wasn’t surprised that he evaded answering the question directly. Wayne was hard to, a quality which had initially made me respect him, but after hearing him capitulate to the voice on the other end of the phone, my respect started to wane.

“Of course, right. Other assignments,” I said, and resisted the urge to protest. It was probably best that I let Wayne think I’d given up on my extracurricular investigation. I figured it might save him an ulcer if I didn’t add to his stress. “Well, I guess I’ll be getting back to work then.”

Wayne took a deep breath and sighed with relief. “That’s great, Kelly. That’s exactly what I want to hear. Wait, what was it that you’d come to discuss?”

I had almost forgotten why I had gone to see him.

“Oh, I’m heading out to pick up some lunch on my way to the courthouse now to look at the construction plans. I just thought I’d ask if you want me to grab something for you too.”

Wayne was looking at me as I spoke, but his mind was elsewhere. “Um…No. No, I’m good for now. Thanks, Kelly. You enjoy, and good luck at the courthouse.”

I left Wayne’s office and gathered my things at my desk. I was grateful to get some fresh air and not have to sit and stew in my thoughts about last night with Misty and all the new information she had given me. I’ve always been bad at sitting still.

I headed out to the parking lot and felt a momentary rush of panic when I realized my car was missing. It came back to me then. I had left it at the Drift last night. At first I considered asking Wayne for a lift, but I decided instead to walk to the bar and pick it up. The wind felt crisp on my face and the brisk spring air distracted me from my headache. The snow was mostly melted and the sun shone brightly, but in Cold Hollow, signs of spring don’t mean it’s warm. I trudged through the slush and finally arrived at my car about twenty minutes later where I happily took refuge from the wind inside. As I warmed myself, I turned on the radio, but the signal was fuzzy so I popped in an old Pixies tape I had stashed in the console. I took a moment to think on what to do next, but before I made a decision, something inside me took over and I started driving.

Detective Owen O’Connor 

I hadn’t ever really been fond of driving when I lived in Boston, mostly due to traffic, but in Cold Hollow, I found it kind of relaxing. It was a way to clear my mind, to think deeply about things. I went south on Route 105 and let the road take me. As I drove, my thoughts revolved around Lilly McClinton and her friend Nicole. I didn’t know what they looked like or how young they actually were, but my heart ached as I began to put a picture of them together in my head.

I imagined them at the party, discovering the Senator’s book on the Occult and began to cross reference the book’s significance with my recent discussion of witchcraft with Millicent. For such a small place there was a lot of interest in the darker aspects of the supernatural. But was there a connection between the witchcraft, the Senator’s book, and the girls’ disappearance? I considered the fact that, at that point, Lilly and Nicole finding an occult book in the Senator’s study was just hearsay. Somehow I had to get to Misty’s friend Rachel. She was the only eye-witness and last person to see Lilly or Nicole before they vanished.

About half an hour into my drive, as I headed towards Saint Albans, I passed a sign for the local barracks of the Vermont State Police. On a whim, I decided to stop and see what I might be able to learn from the ongoing official investigation.

I pulled off the interstate and down a short one-lane road. The barracks loomed huge and grey, like a windowless cement cube overlooking the empty stretch of highway. I was somewhat surprised by the lack of security but assumed it was because very little activity ever happened at this isolated outpost. I stood in the lobby for a couple of minutes, waiting to see if anyone had been notified of my arrival. It quickly became apparent that anyone who was in the building didn’t give a damn that I had let myself in.

Wandering down the scant hallways dotted with occasional framed photos of past policemen, maps of Vermont, and various fliers, it occurred to me that I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for. I wanted more information on Lilly and Nicole’s disappearance and clues as to why Senator McClinton wouldn’t want a spotlight on something so tragic and personal.

“Can I help you?” a man’s voice said from behind me.

I whirled around fast, my heart clenching a little. The police made me jumpy.

“Oh, um, no. I’m okay.” I glanced back and was surprised that it wasn’t a uniformed officer addressing me. Instead, I was face to face with a middle-aged man in dark slacks and a rumpled white shirt and tie. His sideburns were streaked with silver, but the rest of his hair was full and dark. I assumed he was a detective or something.

“You sure?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “This isn’t really the kind of place people just hang out.”

I quickly realized how out of place I must have seemed.

“Well, yeah, I guess, actually you can.”

He took a sip of coffee and watched me like a hawk as I tucked my notebook under my arm and came down the hall towards him.

“I’m a reporter for The Cold Hollow Chronicle and I’m working on a piece about Senator McClinton and the disappearance of his daughter––”

“Whoa, stop right there.” He interrupted me with a shake of his hand. “C’mon, now. You people are being relentless. First, you show up at the poor man’s house, then start impeding police work. Then—” He laughed, though it was humorless. “You follow us out to the lake, clogging up the roads just to snap a few pictures of the Senator’s car. This really isn’t the way to go about getting whatever it is you’re looking for. You’re going to need to go through the proper channels, Miss...”

“Kane. Kelly Kane” I said.

“Miss Kane, yeah. You’ll need to call the general information number and someone can direct you to any information that may be available.”

I was unhappy to learn just how far behind I was in the case already. “Oh, no. You’ve got me all wrong. I wasn’t with any of the other news outlets at…Lake Carmi.” I took a chance and guessed, but the jig was up when I asked, “The Senator’s car was at the lake?”

The detective stopped and his eyes narrowed with confused suspicion. “Wait, who did you say you were with?”

I met his question with another as I pulled my pen out of my back pocket and flipped the cover of my notebookopen. What would the police want with the Senator’s car? I knew the answer in the back of my mind, but I didn’t dare think it aloud just yet. “Are you the detective on the case?”

“Yes, well, no. I mean…Hold on a minute––”

“What’s your name?” I had learned that the onslaught of questions was a good method for getting information out of tough interviewees and this guy was responding well.

“Detective Owen O’Connor, but–but, hey, you don’t have permission to be––uhh––I mean, yes, I’m working the case, but I’m not in charge of the investigation and I’m really not at liberty to discuss it further.” He said, leaning forward to glance at the notes I was taking.

“Isn’t all of this public record,” I shrugged. “So the car was impounded, then?”

O’Connor smiled. “That’s information I can’t share right now.” The nervousness in his eyes all but confirmed my suspicion.

“Why would the Senator’s car be of interest to the police?” I said, giving him a satisfied grin.