June 10, 2006

Daisy’s Diner was a small establishment tucked between a supermarket and a lawyer’s office. Its bright red and yellow canopy and neon lighting above the entrance stood in stark contrast to the drab businesses that lined Central Street. The sight of it took Agent King back to the sixties, when he could buy a burger and a milkshake for fifty cents. His body tended to reject those sorts of things these days, but the smells wafting from the kitchen gave him a sad reminder of what he had been missing out on in recent years.

            It was 7:56 a.m. when he entered the crowded dining room. The old man had been right; this place was quite popular, for old and young alike. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a plate of scrambled eggs and a coffee for himself while he waited for his appointment to show.

            True to his word, it was 8:00 on the dot when the man who called himself Grandpa showed up and seated himself next to the agent. He also wasn’t joking about being a regular; the waitress on duty gave him a friendly nod in greeting before serving him a black cup of coffee as well, presumably his standard order.

            “What a nice surprise to see you again, Mister… King, was it? I remember you from the search party the other night. Pity nothing came of it,” he said.

            King refrained from rolling his eyes. It seemed the old man wanted to make a show of pretending this was a chance meeting. He decided to go along with it for the moment. It generally didn’t work in your favor to piss off potential informants, even if the majority of them did turn out to be morons in the end.

            “Agent King,” he corrected. “You said your name was Grandpa, if I remember correctly?”

            “That’s what everyone calls me. My real name is Bill Tuesday.”

            “Right. Well, Mr. Tuesday, it’s a good thing I happened to run into you here. As a longtime resident of this town, I thought I might ask you some questions.”

            Tuesday grunted, but didn’t answer. Instead, he fished around in his coat pocket. King could hear the jangling of what like keys or loose change. He eventually pulled out two quarters and hopped out of his chair before hobbling over to a jukebox in the corner. He put the coins in the machine and loud music began blaring out of it. The ambient noise in the diner, which could previously have been described as a dull roar, now became such that one would have to strain to hear the conversation of anyone who was not in their immediate vicinity. Tuesday made his way back to his seat and resumed sipping his coffee.

            “Ask away, Agent,” he said.

            By this time, King’s patience was strained to its breaking point. “Cut the bullshit, pal. You clearly have some information to give me, so let’s hear it. If you know something about the murders in this town, I suggest you tell me quickly because after all you put me through, I am not in the mood to listen to the delusions of a paranoid old man.”

            “You didn’t call them missing persons.”

            “What?”

            “You just said ‘murders’, not ‘missing persons,’ which means you suspect the same thing I do. That Mr. DeHaan and the two people who vanished before him were connected, possibly killed by the same thing.”

            “And you’re saying that you have an idea of who it was?”

            “I had a hunch. I’ve dearly hoped to be wrong, but a few days ago, I happened to find something that made me all but certain. That’s why I approached you on the night of the search. If I’m right and what I think is behind all this is, it would be impossible for me to face it on my own. As an outsider, you’re the only person right now that I can trust. You also talked to the families of the victims, I presume, so you likely have information that I don’t have.”

            “That’s a lot of words, but it doesn’t get me any closer to what I want to know. Why don’t you just make this easier on me and tell me your hunch, then I can investigate it on my own?”

            “Unfortunately, I can’t do that directly. Trusting you is my first and only option and I can’t risk you blowing me off as a crazy old man. I can show you what I’ve found first. Then I can explain what’s really going on in this town, in that order. Otherwise, you’re not going to believe a word I say.”

            This was starting to feel like more of a waste of time with every passing minute. Still, King had already come this far. It seemed more pointless to back out now and if whatever Tuesday had to show him was legit, unlikely as it seemed, it might just be the breakthrough he needed. He’d already been in this town several days with virtually no answers. Three people vanished with no explanation and if he didn’t get to the bottom of this quickly, there were bound to be more.

            “Before I decide to indulge you. Mr. Tuesday,” King said. “I do have one more question. I’ll be honest, all my suspicions regarding this case scream serial killer, but you don’t think that at all, do you? The way you’ve worded everything tells me that you don’t think a person did this at all. What was it, then? A wild animal? Maybe a space alien?” He was beginning to find it difficult to stay professional and keep his flippancy in check. Tuesday, on the contrary, seemed deadly serious.

            “No, sir. Something far more dangerous.”

***

            The last three days had been a blur for Ash Arnault. She hadn’t talked with any of her friends since the night at Jefferson Hospital. That night after they had all separated was when the panic had finally started to catch up with her. Since then, she had stayed in her room, barely coming out to eat. Her nights had been mostly restless, as she had not been able to sleep for fear that whatever was in that hospital might have somehow followed her home. It was nine o’clock in the morning and she remained in bed, covers pulled up to her chin. She had long given up hope of any break to her insomnia hours ago and laid awake watching the sunlight creep through her bedroom window when her stomach growled, reminding her that if nothing else killed her, hunger eventually would.

            She trod downstairs into the kitchen, hoping that by this time she would be the only person home. To her dismay, as she entered the kitchen, sitting at the table was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Arnold Arnault was having his usual breakfast of oatmeal and egg whites. He had the “Business” section of the daily newspaper open next to him and, as always, he made sure not to crumple or crease the pages as he read them.

            “It’s nice to see you have decided to rejoin society, Ashlynn,” he said drily.

            Ash sighed. “Good morning, Dad,” she said.

            “I haven’t seen you in nearly half a week. Are you feeling well?” he asked.

            “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just been a little tired lately, that’s all.”

            “Tired? If that’s the case, then I assume it’s your studies that have been exhausting you.”

            Ash didn’t want to answer the implied question. She briefly considered lying, but her dad would be able to see through that easily. He’d probably give her a pop quiz to test her. She decided to go the innocent route.

            “My studies? I’m on summer break, remember?” she said.

            He gave her a look of disappointment, as though he had expected that answer and nonetheless hoped for something different.

            “You’re on a break from school, yes. But don’t forget that you have other, more important responsibilities. In fact, you should now be more devoted to them, since you have nothing better to do.”

            Ash did everything she could to bite her tongue. As much as she wanted to argue, talking back would only earn her more disappointed looks and condescending lectures. The “studies” he was talking about were a reference to the law studies she was expected to undertake daily. She was lucky if she did them weekly. There just never seemed to be any time. Ash’s father, Arnold Arnault, was the president of a law firm and the richest man in Ether Green. He also had every expectation that Ash would follow in his footsteps. For as long as she could remember, it had been made clear to her that she would not be going to college after her high school graduation. Instead, she would be undertaking an apprenticeship at the age of eighteen at his firm and training until she was ready to take over the company. For a time, these were simply facts that she had never questioned, but as those days drew closer, she had found herself wondering more and more whether it was really what she wanted.

            “I must say, I’m starting to get concerned about you, Ashlynn,” he continued. “Ever since you started spending time with these new friends of yours, you’ve acquired a rebellious streak. You ignore your studies, you come home late. I’m beginning to think that they’ve become a bad influence on you.”

            “What are you saying?” she asked. Her heart was starting to pound. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was saying.

            “From now on, I don’t want you leaving the house without my supervision. You should never have been allowed to have other people influence you. To be honest, I’ve been considering homeschooling you to ensure you receive a proper education.”

            Ash must have looked dumbfounded. She saw her father’s expression soften for a second.

            “I know this must sound like a punishment to you, but believe me, one day you will thank me for it. Now, I have to leave for work. Make sure you put your time to good use today.”

            Ash made herself breakfast after he left, making sure to clean up after herself when she was done. Her father’s words rang in her ears. In all her life, he had never hit her, never shouted or even raised his voice. But somehow, he managed to find ways to say things that hurt worse. She didn’t want to hate him, but it had been growing harder and harder to control her true feelings. At the rate things were going, she would lose what little freedom she had. If her father went through with his word, she wouldn’t get to see her friends anymore. Paul and Johnny had been the first and only people who hadn’t been scared to speak to her just because she was related to someone important. And now there was Meg. She was a quiet girl, and if Ash hadn’t known better, she would have called her stuck-up. But somehow, she reminded her of the old Ash, someone who was scared of commitment or trust. Someone who needed real friends to rely on, like Ash had found.

            Her mind was made up.

            Ash dashed to the phone and dialed the number she had memorized. “Johnny, are you there? Is Meg there too? Good. I want us all to meet up. I think we should talk.”