In my opinion, it took far too long for them to make the connections between the disappearances. While most of the time, people don't want to think of strings of events or occurrences having to do with one another, it's important to find these links. The sooner you make the connections between individual cases, the faster you'll be able to find the right path to solving it.
In looking over the cases, something that stands out to me immediately is the crime scenes from each disappearance. Often when a person disappears, it goes unnoticed. Even if it's for just a short time, there's a stretch when nobody realizes they're gone because nothing has gone amiss. Nothing looks strange or different, and the only way they realize that person is missing is because they don't show up somewhere they're supposed to be. It's not the same with these cases. Instead, there's a distinct crime scene associated with almost all of them. In the last place these people were, police noted blood and signs of a struggle.
The most recent disappearance was only a short time before the Bureau was called in, and the fresh reality of that girl being missing hangs over the town. On the way down Main Street last night, I noticed a missing poster attached to a light post. It hasn't even had time to get faded by the sun.
I suddenly realize the time has gotten away from me. I need to hurry if I don’t want to be late to breakfast. As it is, Jake's already waiting for me at a table when I get to the tiny restaurant. He smiles at me and waves as if I'm going to miss him among the six other tables. But I smile and wave in return.
“How did you sleep?” he asks when I slip into the booth across from him.
“Very well, thank you. How are you this morning?”
It should be the uncomfortable small talk of people who don't know each other and are trying to get accustomed to sharing the same space. But it's not. For some reason, I feel at ease with Jake, like I've always known him. In a way, that puts me on edge even more than the discomfort would. I didn't come here to form connections, and the immediate draw of this man surprises me. Maybe it's because he's so different. From the shine in his eyes to the ponytail tied loosely at the back of his neck to the playful energy around him, he's nothing like any man I've ever dated. It might be the sheer novelty of him and the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing he notices in the room that keeps me fascinated. That stops me from ending this now and staying locked away with nothing but my work.
A waitress comes by and hands us menus. I order a cup of coffee before she walks away, and Jake laughs.
“Are you one of those people who believes they aren't capable of any sort of functioning before they have the right saturation of coffee in their blood in the morning?” he asks.
“Without a shadow of a doubt,” I respond without hesitation.
He laughs again. “Me, too.” The waitress returns and sets mugs in front of both of us. He lifts his to show me. “See?”
She takes our breakfast orders and leaves. I stare at Jake expectantly.
“Well?” I ask.
“What?” he asks.
“I believe we had a deal,” I say. “You're supposed to tell me about these disappearances.”
“The agreement was we'd meet for breakfast, and I'd tell you. We haven't had breakfast yet, so technically, the terms haven't been met,” he points out.
“You drive a hard bargain. Are you just trying to stretch this out?”
He picks up his coffee and puts it to his lips for a long sip. Gazing at me over the mug, he winks like he did the night before. It has the same effect.
“You see that man over there?” he asks when he's finished with his sip.
I look where he's pointing and see a man in a red and black plaid golf hat sitting by himself in the corner of a booth.
“Yes,” I say.
“That's Elliot. He comes here every single morning and has the exact same breakfast. Coffee, orange juice, a bowl of grits with butter, two over-easy eggs, and a piece of white toast, heavily buttered.”
“Just one piece of toast with two eggs?” I ask.
He gives a slow single nod, still watching the older man. “It's cut in half, and he uses the points of the triangles to poke open the yolks of each egg. He's been doing it for twenty-five years,” Jake says.
I scoff at him. “How could you possibly know that? You aren't old enough.”
He straightens up. “I'm thirty-four.”
“Seriously?” I start.
He looks at me strangely. “Why is that so unbelievable?”
“You just seem younger,” I tell him.
“Well, if you want to talk about young, look over to the booth under the window.”
I do, and see a pretty brunette woman around my age, maybe a couple years older, feeding a baby sitting in a highchair at the end of the table.
“Okay,” I nod.
“That's her grandson,” he says.
“What?” I ask, my voice climbing so loud and sharp, nearly everyone at the restaurant turns to look at me. “Sorry,” I whisper meekly, then look back at Jake. “What?”
He nods, chuckling. “Yep. Her family is known for their… let's say, consistency. For the last four generations, the women have gotten married and had their first baby at fifteen. That's Ella. She followed right along in her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother's footsteps. She has a sister, Fanny, who just turned fourteen and says she isn't speaking to anyone male until she turns twenty.”
I laugh. “Smart girl.”
Our breakfasts come, and we eat for a few moments in silence. Finally, Jake takes a sip of coffee to wash down a bite of his omelet.
“You sure you want to hear all this?” he asks, forking a piece of his food.
“Yes,” I tell him.
I settle into the bowl of yogurt and granola in front of me and listen as he tells me about the disappearances. He doesn't give me any information I don't already have from the case files, but there are emotion and insight those clippings and printouts didn't give me. The emotion of living through the discovery of each disappearance and the horror of the two bodies is evident in his voice. This has had a major impact on the people of this town, and it's seeping deeper. Every day without a resolution is stirring suspicions and turning people who were once content to never lock a lock and stroll everywhere in town at night into those who hide behind deadbolts and keep to their homes.
“I started escorting people home when it got obvious the police weren't going to find whoever was doing this and make them stop. I hate the thought of anyone coming to my place to relax and enjoy themselves, only to have something happen to them when they leave. Keeping them safe became a top priority for me. I want to protect them and do whatever I can to make this town as secure as possible. Watching people change their lives because of this is heartbreaking. No one should have to live in fear all the time and not be able to just live their lives.”
“I agree.”
Chapter Six
“No, no, you don't understand. It was everywhere. In his ears. In his hair. It was the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen.”
Jake's laughing almost as hard as I am, making it difficult to understand exactly what he's saying. We're walking through snow that fell heavily over the town three days ago but has started to melt in the slightly warmer temperatures. Those warmer temperatures are still keeping me chilled to the bone most of the day, but the time I get to spend with Jake is very effective at distracting me.
We've seen each other every day since I arrived in Feathered Nest, and the closer we get, the more I feel like he's infiltrating me into the real version of this town. Showing me around and introducing me to people gives me an in with them, automatically giving me more credibility. It lets me have conversations with them without the cocked eyebrows and hesitant speech, or at least with less of it. Gradually, I'm getting more comfortable. When he goes into the bar in the evenings, I bury myself in the case, filling pages with notes and making every link and connection I can.