The Magic Hour

Chapter 1: Harbinger

    "Fine, Ames, you do that." Nathan started toward the cars.

    "Detective?" Nathan turned around. Nan Seymour stood behind him with an annoyed look on her face.

    "They take you away from something good, too, Nan?"

    "Like, the first date I've had in six months. We were having brunch in a bookstore, not my first choice, but at least we were somewhere. He'll disappear before I get back."

    "Speaking of disappearing."

    "Right. We don't have a body. You can trust me on that. I'm done now," Nan said, her eyes glancing over the scene as the last evidence bags were being hauled over to the crime van. "If I may ask, what are you doing here, Nate? You're homicide. This is just a guy lost in the woods."

    "Henry Jacobson is more than a lost fisherman."

    "Ah, yes, that did register. Related to one of the sainted Obersons. That still doesn't explain you. Oh, wait. You're the prize, aren't you, so the wife feels everything possible is being done for her dear uncle. Well, no traces of a crime as far as I found."

    "I was just going to interview the partner."

    "Well, I'd love to stay and watch, but I've got to examine those precious bags full of nothing but mud and leaves right away. A medical examiner's life is always exciting. I'll let you know what I find, you being in charge of this one now. Your lucky day." She laughed and walked away.

    Parker Morris was sitting sideways in the driver's seat of the small truck, his feet on the ground. He was old, with wispy gray hair, wearing a yellow vinyl jacket and hugging his knapsack against his chest. The man was trembling, more from fear than the cold, Nathan guessed.

    Morris gave a start when he saw Nathan approach. "I've been here for hours. I was just playing a game, for heaven's sake!" he said, his voice rising. "Henry wasn't buying it, I mean he went to look and then he was gone. So what's going on? You're the detective, I know you are. You have to find him!"

    "I need you to come with me down to the station. We can talk there. I want to hear the whole story and it's cold out here."

    "Who's looking for Henry? Where did everybody go, tell me that!"

    "We're doing what we need to do, Mr. Morris," Nathan said in a soothing voice. "There's a crew sweeping the river downstream, and we have four officers tracking your friend's usual routines. If he's wandered off, or he's hurt, he might go to a familiar location. I can explain it all better down at the station. You can come in my car. I'll have Sergeant Ames follow in your truck."

    Morris looked around doubtfully before getting up. He stood there with bewilderment in his eyes. Nathan beckoned to Ames, who got in the driver's seat of the truck and started up, waiting for Nathan to lead them out.

    Morris didn't speak on the way downtown. He just hugged his knapsack and stared straight ahead. If he was guilty of anything, he was likely to give it up right away once they started the interrogation.

    As he drove, it occurred to Nathan that the job wasn't giving him the same thrill it used to. Being assigned to this case didn't help. He was tired, but he'd slept just fine the night before. How long had it been since the job had made him feel good? He was still making a difference, he knew that, and the tour of duty right then was atypical. There were plenty of real cases to solve, things to fix.

    No, it was something else. He sighed. He considered himself a reasonably self-aware man. The source of his discontent ought to be apparent to him, but it wasn't. Nothing you'll look at, Nate, right? The thought came with the image of Jennie's face rising in front of him. No, he wouldn't go there. He wasn't ready for that.