Mr. 8

Chapter 10: December 13th

Linda ordered the braised short rib special.

Denton asked for the steak frites. When the waiter stepped away, they went back to their conversation. Linda was forced to strain her voice over the din of the restaurant. 7th and Market was packed. The holidays were less than two weeks away, and everyone was getting out and celebrating. An office Christmas party took over the back corner, and sudden cheers and bursts of laughter erupted from them like erratic gunfire.

The town wasn't just getting into the holiday spirit, it was also blowing off steam—drinking a little too much, talking a little too loud, as they whistled past the graveyard.

With the help of a controversial land deal and allegations of corruption at city hall, the disappearances had finally started to slip from the front page. Since the news of Maggie Biscamp's kidnapping broke, there had been another fourteen Milton students reported missing and half a dozen residents.

Denton had finally got a chance to talk to Bill on the weekend. He caught up with him, while he was hanging garland on his front gallery. "Bill, I was beginning to think you didn't live here anymore," he said, walking up the path.

"So did Helen. I'm glad she didn't decide to re-marry."

Bill struggled one handed with the strand of the artificial pine decoration, but finally got it into the place he wanted. He used a staple gun in his other hand to attach it to the wooden post. Then he cautiously released it, almost expecting it to fall back down. The swag of lights and fir needles swayed but held.

"This is the first real break I've had since Monday." Bill fired in four more staples for good measure. "I'm beat. They've had me going twelve to sixteen hours a day. And how do I spend my day off? Decorating the damn house. You got yours up, I saw."

They discussed the holidays and the hassles of burned out bulbs for a while, but eventually Denton brought the conversation around to the case.

"I really can't tell you much," Bill said. "Look, I know its police business, but—"

"It's not that. There just isn't much to tell. We're at a loss. It's like she just fell off of the Earth. And now with all these other reports, we're getting buried taking statements and doing paperwork. All these false reports are crippling our chances of finding the girl."

"Look, I've come up with a few things," Denton pressed on. "And I think it might be a good idea if I looked over the other victim's file. Can I come by the station sometime?"

"Sure thing." Bill got down from the stepladder and picking up another length of the garland. "But let's just wait until we find this Biscamp girl first, okay?"

"But it's the same guy. We catch the killer, we find the girl." "That's not how the Lieutenant sees it. He doesn't believe there's any link between the murders and the kidnapping." Bill dragged the ladder a few feet down the gallery, before climbing back up. "Gotta say, I'm beginning to think he's right. Can't find anything substantial connecting them."

"So you're saying, it's just a coincidence that there's a string of disappearances right after there are three murders? In Bexhill?"

"There is only one confirmed disappearance," he said definitively. "They just found that McElroy kid. His girlfriend broke up with him, so he went home to Scranton. And those two hikers in yesterday's news were home by dinner. People are just being hysterical. The only real case is the girl and that isn't at all the same M.O. as the homicides."

"What about the eights?"

"What about them?" Bill said it casually, but there was a weariness in his words. He was growing tired of the conversation.