Mr. 8

Chapter 8: Two Years Ago

Denton lay awake next to Linda, listening to drops of icy rain clicking against the bedroom window. The alarm clock's digital display read 4:22.

The missing girl plagued his thoughts. He was no closer to finding her or the mysterious Mr. 8. Ever since the day at the train bridge, it had been a frustrating waiting game, made all the worse by how tantalizing a lead Baye Feed and Supply seemed at the time.

After leaving the Food Fair, he went back to the car and reviewed his notes. He was determined to find out why Baye had seemed so familiar. Skimming the first page with his observations on the case, he came across it: the victim, Meyers, had driven a delivery truck for them. Although extremely tenuous, there might be a connection between the second and third victims.

He went straight there, but the trip did little more than confirm that they sold spray-paint, and Reynolds had been in there.

As Denton walked through the aisles, he managed to talk to a couple of clerks and an assistant manager. When he asked them about Meyers, they were all very sorry and still in shock that Gary had been murdered. None of them could think of anyone who would have wanted to harm him. They hadn't noticed any change in their delivery man prior to his death, but they didn't know him very well to begin with. Gary Meyers was usually on his route and very rarely at the store.

Only one of the clerks remembered Ray.

The older clerk adjusted some mason jars on a shelf, making sure they were perfectly in line. "Yeah, there was a bum who came in here a few times. About a month ago, I guess. Although, I thought his name was Callahan."

"Do you know what he bought?"

"No idea. Why're you asking? Is he causing problems in the stores around here?"

"No, he's not in town anymore," Denton said.

He returned home that night, dejected. He felt as if he were chasing ghosts.

His mood sank even deeper when Margery Biscamp appeared on the local news.

He first heard her name as they flashed a picture of her on the screen. It was a high school graduation photo of a smiling girl, with curly chestnut hair flowing out from under her white mortarboard. Linda was half watching the small set on the counter, as she made dinner. Denton glanced up from the emails on his phone at the mention of the "missing woman."

"Police are asking anyone with information on the whereabouts of Margery Biscamp to contact the Bexhill Crime Stoppers Hotline. She was last seen Friday afternoon on Milton campus near the Royal Street entrance." The news anchor announced this without any trace of emotion before he cheerfully launched into some banter with the sport's reporter about the Bruin's upcoming game against L.A.

If Linda had been paying attention, she showed no sign, as she dumped a box of pasta in boiling water with one hand and stirred the sauce with her other.

On Tuesday morning, there had been an article about Margery Biscamp in the Bexhill Gazette. Denton learned a few more details from it. Everyone knew her as Maggie. She was originally from Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. And her distraught parents had driven to town to be there for the search.

Her father was quoted, pleading to whoever had taken her, to return his baby girl to him. Her mother said that they were praying for her safety.

Since then, Denton had kept a lookout for updates. He scanned the websites of all of the local papers and TV stations obsessively, waiting for something new to come up about Maggie Biscamp.

None of the reports mentioned a van. He could only surmise that the police had been unable to get a description and it was no longer being pursued as a lead. Or perhaps they were keeping it out of the news, so the kidnapper wouldn't know that they had that information.