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“Yeah.”

“Okay, their ORI is WI0650000, in case you want to teletype them for any reason.” ORI is an abbreviation for Origin, and is the teletype address of any particular law enforcement agency. The numbers are usually carried over into the call sign of the particular department, and in this case, the radio call number of their sheriff would probably be 65-1. All their county cars would begin with sixty-five.

“Okay, they're sixty-five with the zeroes. Okay. Good. Let me know right away… about anything I should know about.”

“Don't worry, Lamar. How's your sister taking things?”

“Just like I thought she would,” he said, disgustedly. “Now she wants to sue the funeral home.”

Fifteen minutes and a flurry of packing later, Hester knocked on the back door.

“Hester, nice to see you,” said Sue. “Come on in.”

“Sorry to have to borrow your husband for a day or two,” said Hester, “but I'm afraid it's necessary.”

“Just watch what he eats,” said Sue. “Or, as long as you can stand it, anyway. I don't envy you going with both Carl and Harry together.”

“It's scary, isn't it?” said Hester. “I'll submit a written report on Carl's diet.”

“You be careful, too,” said Sue. “All of you, be careful.”

I hugged her. “Be back before you know it,” I said.

Hester's car was running in the driveway. As she got in, she said, “Harry's waiting for us just across the river.”

“Okay,” I answered. “When we get where we're headed, I have reservations for me and Harry at a motel in Fontana.”

“Fine. I'm in a place called the Geneva Inn. In Lake Geneva, on the other side of the lake.”

“Okay!” I hoped she had a nice place.

I got in, buckled up, checked everything to make sure it was either working or turned off, and backed out of the garage. I could see Sue, waving, from the back door. I honked my horn, and waved back.

We three took our separate cars on Highway 18 to Madison, then I 90 SE to Janesville, where we stopped for a bite to eat. It was 23:40. We only had about another hour to go.

We pulled in to a McDonald's, which seemed to be the only place open, although they were mopping the floors as we entered. We got the stuff to go, and ate in my car, Harry in front with me, and Hester in back. As Hester said, “It's not so noticeable if we spill in yours.”

We'd all been thinking as we drove, and we used this chance to plan a bit.

“What do you hear about your missing girl, Harry?” asked Hester.

“Haven't really heard shit,” he replied, munching a Big Mac. He swallowed. “It's strange. She just went into the ladies john, and disappeared. Took her car, as far as we can tell, and just left.”

“Foul play?” I asked. That was a formal designation in “Attempt To Locate” bulletins for missing persons. “Foul Play Feared.”

“Beats the crap out of me,” said Harry. “But we put in, just in case.”

By categorizing the case as a “Foul Play Feared,” it opened up the nationwide system about twelve hours earlier than a normal missing persons report, and was flagged for immediate attention.

“Not one fuckin' sign of a struggle,” said Harry. “ 'Scuse me, Hester. Just a bunch of worried friends.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “At least I ain't had nobody drive a stake in any corpses this week.”

“That,” I said, searching for my fries in the bag, “was one of the weirdest things I've ever seen.”

“Me, too,” said Hester. “It was just plain spooky.”

“Mmmph,” said Harry.

“I've been thinking about our little group at the Mansion,” said Hester, holding open the other sack for me to get my two Big Macs.

“Yeah?” I lifted both burgers out in their cardboard containers, and placed them carefully on the dash. “Nonconformists, aren't they?”

“Dedicated,” said Hester, handing me my napkin.

“I kinda like most of 'em,” I said, opening the first burger box. “Boy, I'm hungry.”

“I do, too,” she said. She started rustling around in the sack, looking for the fries she'd ordered. “I'm going to tell you guys something, and you keep it to yourselves, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” I took a bite of my burger.

“You betcha, Hester,” said Harry, earnestly.

“Okay, I think this might help us figure them out. That's the only reason I'm telling you this.”

She paused so long, I'd swallowed and taken a second bite before she began again.

“When I graduated from Iowa State,” she said, “I thought I had it all. Or thought I was going to get it, anyway. I don't want to be immodest, or anything, but everybody I knew sort of assumed I was on my way to the top. My parents. My professors. My roommates. Even me. You know?” She paused again.

“Sure. I know,” I prompted. To give some idea of how little of our background information we'd ever exchanged, I hadn't known until now that Hester had gone to Iowa State.

“My plan was, I was going to be a famous chemist, was going to marry some guy who was, oh, maybe an equally famous architect or something. Live in New York. Paint landscapes in my spare time.” She took a sip of her Diet Coke. “You know the sort of thing?”

“Yep,” said Harry.

“Well,” she went on, “just two days after graduation, Dad had a stroke. I missed about a year and a half in the job market, because I stayed home with Mom, and helped take care of him. No problem. Hell, for what they'd done for me, it was hardly a drop in the bucket.”

“Sure.” I took another bite of burger.

“My sister graduated a year behind me. She didn't stay home. Hey, I told her not to. No point in both of us being there.” She took another sip. “Okay, and then, when Dad died, then, there wasn't quite enough life insurance to even pay off the house mortgage. All borrowed against to help us in school, and to take one family trip. What was left was eaten up by the noncovered medical expenses. So much for teaching.” She produced a sad excuse for a smile. “He was a teacher. Math. I didn't tell you that.”

I took a drink from my Coke cup. “Doesn't pay too much,” I said. “Sue's been a teacher for almost twenty years now, and makes about what I do.”

“I dated a teacher once,” said Harry.

“My Mom taught chemistry. Same deal.” She shrugged. “More to life than money. Except, all of a sudden, my installments on my college loan came due. I got my first job with an ag chemical company. Not doing chemistry, you understand. No, I was part of a team that went all over Iowa and Nebraska, trying to tell farmers not to put too much of our products on the soil.” She took a long swig from her Diet Coke, and started rummaging around in the sack. “Had to tell 'em that, in small doses, what we sold was just fine. In larger doses, it was poison.”

“Must have been really fun.” Harry took a rattling pull on his milkshake.

“Oh, yeah. And, it paid less than teaching, let me tell you. And I finally figured out that since I was a young woman, they wanted me on the 'Responsible Usage Team' so the farmers could look at my legs while I talked.” She half giggled. “Really. I was sort of an agricheesecake girl.”

I couldn't help grinning at the image. “With your attitude?” “I couldn't bite people, we had a script,” she said.

“Anyway, I could see I wasn't going to get out of that job until my legs went. And I liked chemistry. And the real chemists made pretty good money. Well, better, anyway. I had to keep living with Mom, because I couldn't pay off the loans, and help her with the bills, and pay rent at the same time. Mom knew I hated that job, but she kept telling me that it was the responsible thing to do, so I did it. I hated myself for it, though.”

She turned on the overhead light. “I can't find all my fries… ”

“How long did you stay?”

“Three years, Carl. I'd send resumes out all the time, but the longer you've been out of school… Anyway, the only decent offer I got was from this place in California, and the money just didn't work out. It did after the first couple of years, or it would have. But I just couldn't get away. And all that time, Mom was entertaining suspicions that I was failing. That I wasn't really trying, you know?”