Invisible Innocents-Book 4 of the Airwalker Chronicles

By Douglas Faber

Join Ellen and Michaels continuing adventures as they hunt for the missing twins, Deanna and Allison. after outting themselves to the police and the FBI, they find out that forty more children are missing, somewhere in 1.5 sq million miles of Wisconsin forests! toss in FBI agents with agendas, shapeshifters, new allies, old enemies and a new winter king with a chip of ice on his shoulder, you've got a frozen recipe for adventure! Following this adventure, visit a way station of Heaven, welcome a new member to the Iskarios family and a new member to the black cat court! A jazz cruise then lands Michael and Ellen in deeper troubles as the old gods are rising and the deep ones aren't far behind...Exotic locales, erotic love, new enemies and old--and a shattering conclusion that could forever divide the Airwalker and his fae princess....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Douglas Faber
• Release date: May 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310793301

Douglas Faber

I am 54 years old, born in Wisconsin, married a second time to Marie.I have a daughter, Kayleigh, 18 years old, three cats who drive us nuts and are or will be in my books. I love music, reading, writing, cats and my family. I work at Wal-Mart(8 years & counting) and hope to write full time for a living.

Book preview

INVISIBLE INNOCENTS

by

Douglas Dean Faber

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Douglas Dean Faber

License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Excerpts from Invisible Treasures Copyright © 2014 Douglas Dean Faber

Cover Design Kids Lost in the Forest Copyright © 2014 Paula Simmerman

Original Idea for cover by Author

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter One

ONE

Would you care to change your statement in any way, Michael? The Detective plopped a folder down on the cigarette-charred wooden table, scrutinizing his suspect through inadequate prescription glasses. His nicotine stained fingers, yellow as if from malaria, were unwrapping the cellophane-sealed no name cigarettes with the ease of a long-running bad habit. He tapped the tobacco down before ripping off the final seal and stuck one inbetween his dry lips. He paused dramatically before lighting it, then took it out again and examined it as if he'd just come to realize what he had done.

I mean, seriously, is this the statement you want to sign? Your wife, Eleanor, was singing at a Jazz Club in Madison and the rest of you were attending the concert as her manager, security and the like? You realize we have witnesses that place you on the roof of the theater, along with your sister, what'shername, ahhere it is, Evangelose? And your Brother-In-Law, Pax Verum? Really? What kind of names are those anyways? Are they part of the band and those are their stage names?

I looked wearily up at Detective O'Neil and finally decided to answer him. Do you speak or at least, understand, Latin, Detective? His name translates to Peace and Truth—in Latin. As to the rest of your comments, yes. So far, what you've read back to me sounds correct in every detail—so far.

Our witnesses have you, Evangelose Verum and Pax fighting with some creatures straight out of something Clark Ashton Smith or Robert E. Howard might have written, using swords and what not. Care to reinvent another story or maybe, better yet, explain the one you've told me?

I looked O'Neil straight in the eyes, well, through glasses to his eyes and—The winged creatures we were fighting were scientifically altered hybrids, similar to the mythological Harpies. We defended our own, not to mention everyone else in the club.

Harpies? Are you kidding me? And what the heck are you? My witnesses said you and your sister were fighting these creatures off the roof and in the air! Said there were wings involved and that you even had a 'halo' that dispatched your 'harpies' at the end of the fight. Wings? What are you people, anyways? And do I want to know? O'Neil finally, now, re-lit the cigarette, inhaled deeply and exhaled away from me, uneasy I supposed, about possibly irritating his 'guest'.

It depends.

On WHAT?

On how open-minded you are, how religious you are, whether or not you think I'm involved in this kidnapping. The truth might be more out there than you are willing to accept or believe in.

O'Neill puffed the last dregs of his cancer-stick, stubbed it out on a communal ash tray and took a chair, turned it around, sat down. He put his head in his hands, closing his eyes for a few moments, before attempting another question.

You were in Madison, your Daughter, um, Marie, your sister's twins, Isabella and Helena de Couer, were back at your home with our missing girls as their only companions?

No, they weren't alone with the girls. DeJesus helped us by bringing in some private security people.

We didn't find anyone alive there at the time besides your group and the babies.

They were murdered.

By whom? Or should I ask what?

More of the Harpy-hybrids.

I see. So did these 'harpies' kidnap the older twins?

That is our assumption.

Why the older girls and not the babies?

I don't know.

You don't know. Is there any particular reason why I should believe you?

>Mother, I hope you don't mind but I'm about to out myself.<

(?)You're the one that will have to live with the consequences, Michael, so we won't mind at all. Just don't get locked up with that fat guy on Lost.(?)

>Ha, ha. You're about as funny as my wife.<

(?)And how is my darling Daughter-in-Law these days?(?)

>Ellen's fine, Mother.<

(?)So eloquent you are, my son. And your Daughter, Marie?(?)

>She's already pulling herself up to a standing position, with the aid of her Mother and the couch.<

(?)Why do you have to come out, Michael?(?)

>Captain DeJesus's daughters are missing—we had to call in the FBI, who just happened to send Magnus Maelstrom, the latest Winter King, as their local field agent in charge. He's in a coma, Demetrios is dead and the state we live in is under an Amber Alert. I'm talking to the police right now.<

(?)Hunh. How about that? Well, do what you have to, sweetheart, but try not to piss off the entire FBI—you might find them to be a difficult enemy to have. Give all my love to the girls and do include Eva this time!(?)

Hey! Michael, are you still with us?

I stood up from my uncomfortable plastic chair, with my handcuffed hands in front of me and stared at the detective from my height of six feet plus a lot.

Do you need these? I used my long arms to jangle the handcuffs, to emphasis what I was going to do. Detective O'Neill slowly got to his feet and showed himself to be nearly my equal in height, if nothing else.

You telling me you're going to bust out of those? You a magician, like that 'Mindfreak' guy on cable?

Not quite. Last chance...?

He shook his salt-and-pepper covered head, putting his old-fashioned glasses in his pressed white dress shirt. I see better without them. O'Neill explained and then folded his arms across his chest like a Missourian.

Seems to be a waste of the taxpayer's money, but since you insist. I closed my eyes briefly and felt the metal begin to aggressively atrophy back to the dust everything(well, almost everything) returns to at the end of their lifespan. I just helped speed it up, some. Alright, a lot.

I opened my eyes again and calmly wiped the dust off of my wrists. Figuring that this seasoned veteran police detective would need a lot more than just something he'd consider a 'fancy parlour trick'-his words as to how we rendered one FBI special agent comatose and the other gone, poof! in a matter of minutes, I closed my eyes again and summoned forth my wings, letting them fan out in their full, visible glory(and covering the one camera in the room behind and to my left at the same time). After casting a shadow with them for the better part of a dozen heartbeats, I decided to give Detective O'Neill the 'full' Monty and slipped into invisibility, for the finale of my 'big act'.

Well, Detective O'Neill? How do you like me and my statement now? Yes, reach out and poke me in the chest if you so desire and-ow-insist upon, but I would really love to see my wife now. I've been abnormally patient with the law as Captain DeJesus could tell you(if he were not in the interrogation room next door) and I'm sure of one of two things:one, my Wife has probably charmed your partner, Detective Simmons, to the point that she's gotten him to bring her a comfortable chair, a diet soda and a sub sandwich or two; she is so irritated with him that's kicked the crap out of him and is trying to break down the door. Either one is possible, maybe even both one after the other. Detective?

Diet what-Coke or Pepsi?

I shrugged with a smile on my face, then shifted myself back to begin visible again. I had to let the Detective in on some of my secrets.

Could be a cappuchino, for that matter. But I did see a Cousins' not too far from this station, so I'm pretty sure about the sub sandwich.

Lord have mercy. What are you people?

Detective O'Neill had sat down once more, his legs must have been weak—they wobbled too much as he reclaimed his chair.

Do you believe in God?

Yeah, I do. You?

I smiled a smile tighter than the last one. This was going to sound a little crazy. Would it sound like a psychotic's last defense if I said I've been to Heaven and 'talked' directly to the Man Upstairs? Or have I gained some credence in your eyes?

I suppose the camera hasn't been working—

No, not since before I 'slipped' out of the cuffs and spread my wings. I've been back on Earth for a little over a year plus now, I'd kind of like to keep my identity somewhat of a secret just that much longer if I could.

Your Wife is blind, right? Aren't all Angels supposed to be perfect beings?

"Ever head of Lucifer? If your tone had been rude instead of curious, I would have thrown you through the wall into my wife's room. So I'll answer your question this time.

My wife is not an Angel.(Boy, is she not an Angel!) She is Fae, Elven if you would rather I define it thus and Ellen is also Royalty, in addition. However, Ellen is as close to perfect as I can handle. She is my Princess, literally. Eleanor Andurrin nee Callahan Iskarios is her full name and if I don't see her soon, I will go through that wall on my own to get to her—damn the consequences.

Elven Royalty? Are you extras from some Movie filming around here? I reached over my back and pulled out the Scimitar, levelling the blade inches from where his hand had nearly reached his holster, low on his left hip.

My weapons have been at my disposal since before we came here. I did not have to put on the handcuffs, I have told you my story of what happened beyond the smallest detail and my patience, however Angelic my temperament may be, is wearing perilously thin! I-want-to-see-my-wife, NOW!

I was suddenly very weary and I sat down hard on the plastic chair, shattering it. Crossing my legs and using my wings, now invisible, I hovered above the remains of the chair, scattered on the floor like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Closing my eyes, I quietly told O'Neill: Do as you see fit. It doesn't matter all that much.

He left the scabrous green and brown interrogation room, the door automatically locking behind him—I don't think O'Neill was stupid, so he wouldn't have thought that the locked door would hold me, so I didn't add this to the long list of a comedy of errors that this entire evening had become.

Keeping my eyes closed, I manuevered my body till my ass was above the end of the typical in-TV-cop-shows table and sat. I put away my wings, hoping against hope, that Allison and Deanna were still alive and unharmed. Since Maelstroms' collapse and Agent Aleriks' disappearance, it had only been eight hours and thus, only ten hours since the time we believed that the girls had been kidnapped. As far as I knew, Maelstrom had yet to recover consciousness, no sign of Alerik had been found and no word at all about the girls had come to light. Suddenly the scent of summer, flowers in bloom, trees blossoming and sweet sweat trickling down your bare back filled my nostrils as I inhaled my wife when she entered the room.

I can't take you anywhere without you causing a fuss, can I sailor? Ellen walked unerringly into my arms and I collapsed them around her, folding her sweetness closer to my heart and my skin. How could they dare to cage an Angel like you? She whispered into my chest, with the fierceness of a mother defending her child. I lifted her face to mine and kissed her once, twice, then a very long third time. When we finally came up for air, I directed my next words to the still-silent O'Neill behind me...

Cinnamon twist cappuchino, extra whipped cream, sprinkling of nutmeg powder. Turkey sub with the works, except the onions.

TWO

Evangelose Verum, my sister and wife to Pax Verum, my councilor, took our arrest a little, well to be truthful, a lot more violently than I had. To the point, well, of resisting arrest. Pax tried to do his best to calm her down but while Ellen had let her anger simmer and boil while I was handcuffed, Eva had not. One foolish move towards our combined three girls by a very foolish, un-Fae uniformed police officer, was enough to ignite her volatile temper and she tossed the unlucky man into a wall of our house.

Pax was more successful his second time at calming his wife, though most of his success could have been attributed to the fact that no-one else advanced an inch towards the twins, or for that matter, advanced at all.

Sweetheart-

Don't. Sweetheart. Me.

Dear—

That either!

(xx)Evangelose Caitlin A'stoir Verum, you will listen to me! Calm is essential here. Any more 'rash' stunts like that last one and our human identities will be lost to us forever. Let Michael, our Prince, dictate how this should play out. Or, um, maybe, our Queen?(xx)

(xx)I believe Michael already took care of him while they were wheeling him out. And since our Prince is submitting to the authorities, I suggest we do likewise.(xx)

(xx)Never(unnh)entered the house. He's out on the Hunt already, so to speak.(xx)

(xx)Cuffs are little too tight—oops, I shouldn't have said...(xx)

Eva lost her temper again, breaking open her own handcuffs and brushing aside an attempt to restrain her by the arresting officer. She stomped over to her husband and physically altered the shape of his cuffs, bending the metal to give his wrists some extra room. Glaring at this officer, Eva returned to her officer and allowed herself, now, to be taken out to the waiting police vehicles.

Ellen appeared, ready to put up a fight as well, until my Mother came into the room and took custody of the children, without any of the police force noticing her arrival or their departure. DeJesus had helped with Ellen, telling her telepathically about my Mother taking the children for now. Then she put down the katana with its' sheath and belt and quietly joined the rest of us as we were marched out to the cars. DeJesus accompanied Ellen outside and they had a car of their own.

The police left some plain clothes officers behind to coordinate the investigation from our house, looking for clues to the children's disappearance as well as the twins. Since their original Field Agents had either collapsed or vanished, the FBI were in the process of sending another pair of agents, this time from the Milwaukee office.

So now we were in a different room, with Detective O'Neill, Simmons and two other men I'd yet to meet, opposite myself, Ellen, Pax and Eva. Captain DeJesus came into the room at the last minute, handing out freshly printed photos of his twin daughters to all of us. There was a one page report with the photos, details about the girls we might not yet know, things we might need to know—medical data that pertained to the conditions they might be lost or found in. I had a question to ask the Captain, so I sent him a 'note'.

>Rodrigo, you know that we're very sorry about all this and that we'll do everything we can do and that we will find them safe, unharmed.<

@I know you will, my Prince. I have faith in you, your Princess, your Court and your People.@

>I don't suppose that the girls have telepathic abilities, do they?<

@Only between themselves, I'm afraid. Once they come of age at 18, then they'll be able to join our entire network.@

>Damn. That would have been too easy, wouldn't it?<

@And less stressful, too.@

>Obviously, yes, I agree.<

Detective O'Neill cleared his throat with the raspy sandpaper sound of a life-long smoker and started to introduce his 'task force'.

This is my Partner, Augustus Simmons, whom you've already met(a shorter, paler copy of O'Neill), the other two reprobates are from the La Crosse precinct, Allan Hendrickson(a red-headed skinny young man no older than Ellen) and Andreya Potts, his partner(whom I'll describe later). Both of them are from Missing Persons and will help us cover the Midwestern portion of the state. Everybody shook hands, including the short blond haired blue eyed beauty Potts, who wore a sharp-seamed gray pantsuit and was staring at me with an odd look in her dark black eyes. Of them all, I figured her to be the one to keep an eye on.

So, Michael—are you the 'spokesperson' for your...group?

Are we still under suspicion of these crimes?

No. Andreya cut in, shuffling some papers into a tighter grouping and looked only me in the eye. "The only reason 'we' had for bringing you in at all was the fighting that took place on that jazz club's rooftop. Plus the fact that the girls were kidnapped from inside your house. You and we both have witnesses stating you all were in Madison, your wife and your band still performing, at the time we believe the kidnapping occurred in Rios de los Angelos.

Now, what we'd like to establish here would be a plan of attack, as it were, to coordinate efforts between us, and to limit your exposure to the rest of our merely human brother-in-arms.

There were other people at the house, yeah? These people being part of your extended family? And some of them are already conducting their own investigation? This came from O'Neill's partner, 'Augie' Simmons. The five of us had a mind-to-mind pow-wow, confab, etc, about what we should reveal and what we shouldn't.

Yes, we had two other security people there, um—Vincentes and Praxas, neither 'family' yet in the traditional sense, but yes—both are involved in our own investigation. I paused once again, this time to marshal my own thoughts into a cohesive text before I misspoke myself.

Detective O'Neill, have you shared my as yet unsigned statement with the rest of your task force, here?

Um, yeah—I hope that's okay? I couldn't keep it completely to myself. However—

They need proof. Proof of what I've said I am and, thus, by association, my sister Eva.

What do you think, Mr. Iskarios? Allan Hendrickson finally spoke, earning a 'we've already talked about this frown' from his partner and superior.

I could assume by your spikey, unruly red hair that you're of Irish descent, like my wife here, and if you said that was true, I would accept it without id or birth certificate.

Michael, be nice. What county does your family hail from, Allan, if I may be so nosy?

County Clare, mum, and you?

On my Mother's side, County Antrim—tis where the Callahans emigrated from to Canada and then the States.

Now that we've gotten that out of our systems, Michael, I confess to being a doubting Thomas myself. I won't ask to touch your 'wounds', Andreya smiled, flirtatiously and Ellen growled, deep in her throat, yet quietly; But if we could get the same show and tell, the heavenly version, we would be grateful, um, sir. I smiled at the sudden and unexpected 'sir' tacked on to the end of that long and complicated sentence and with a silent, but weary all the same sigh, I rose to my feet, pushed the chair away and stepped away from the table as well.

What order did I do it in again? I asked, half mockingly, half-seriously and sprouted wings from my back, spreading them out to their fullest 'wing-span' of fifteen feet. Wow, breathed Hendrickson and even though Andreya kicked him under the table and cautioned him in a whispered hurry, she too was taken aback by my display and thus her words were tempered by shock.

Next, I lifted myself up off the ground, hovered for a few moments and then went poof! where is he now? Even more gasps of wonder, awe and apprehension greeted these magic tricks, even one murmur of approval graced my delicate ears. Well, that came from my wife as I hotdogged it and flew upside down to match my face to hers in reverse(as it were) and I kissed her like Spiderman and Mary Jane did in the first Spidey movie.

>I've missed you.<

=(giggling)It's only been eight hours, Mikey! Are you addicted to me?=

>Absolutely hooked.<

So I righted myself and set my feet back on the caramel-colored carpeted floor and reversed the vanishing act. For the added 'oomph' factor, I pulled both blades out of that mysterious dimension storage space. I didn't give them a demonstration of my warrior abilities nor had I mentioned the Halo effect. I had all but won this crowd over, no need to bring out the bright guns. Though I did divine a problem within the heart and body of Ms. Andreya Potts, in the form of a malignant tumor—breast cancer. It was still at stage one but something needed to be done about it soon and if I okayed it with the wife, my actions could seal the deal and put the detectives all on our side.

>Ellen.<

=(Hmmph)=

>Ellen...<

=You just want to feel her up...MEN!=

>She has breast cancer, love.<

=And? You can't save everyone who is sick, Michael! Otherwise, our lives will turn into a travelling tent freak show! But do what you want to do.(men).=

>Dear, did I ever tell you I 'removed' a tumor from Tarot, our first cat, when we 'first' met?<

=You did? Why haven't you told me before?

>Because I loved you then and I love you now, more than anything or -one. That will never change or be altered in anyway, forever and ever.<

=(snif)Why can't I ever stay mad at you? Go. Take her out of this room at least so I can't hear or feel how much she enjoys your touch.(men).=

THREE

Andreya had allowed me to be 'escorted' by her to a different room, again without a camera or windows and stood in front of me, waiting for me to state why I needed to see her alone from the others. Her Nordic sculptured(yes, it was beautiful) face gave away glimpses of wild hopes of future fun but she said absolutely nothing and folded her arms across her full breasts.

I need you to not take this the wrong way and to use this gesture of goodwill to bind both our parties together on the same side with belief in our innocence and our abilities to help you find Allison and Deanna.

What do you want me to do?

Strip down to your waist, to your skin.

What?!

You have a lump on your left breast, yes?

Her pale skin blanched further and I had my answer, not that I doubted my talents.

I can take it away, I can heal you.

This is just a easy way to feel me up, isn't it? But despite her mocking tone, she began to take off the blouse to her suit.

No, no it's not. Notice the wedding ring.

Andreya undid the buttons on her shirt, smiling. That's not much of a deterrent to some women. Though I gathered from your wife's posture and facial expression, she'd kill any women who tried to move in on you.

I laughed then realized that this maneater would still consider that and me, a challenge to her sexual abilities and self-belief in her powers. Andreya didn't bat her eyelashes at me like a classic vamp, but the way she stripped off her blouse and bra, was more than perfunctory and much closer to seductive and manipulative.

Andreya had perfect, apple-shaped breasts with small but dark and distinctive nipples and they were definitely perky. I cupped her left breast, squeezed it for a few moments, then, ignoring her closed eyes and heavier breathing, finally found the lump close to the nipple. I closed my eyes to concentrate my willpower on removing all the cancer cells and the little witch took this moment to move into a cuddling position, her shapely butt pressing against my lower torso and began wiggling to provide friction. She took my unresistant right hand and placed it on her right breast and used her own hand to simulate fondling.

Stop that. I forced out through my gritted teeth, trying to concentrate on both finishing what I started not what she had started(and to keeping my physical reactions to her body under control)and what she desperately wanted to finish. Half my concentration deserted the cancer withdrawal to force the blood in my body to travel north again and the other half destroyed all the cancer cells in her body. Finished, I pushed her half-naked (sensual) body away from me, with an irritated grunt but it was apparently a little too late. Andreya gave a small but intense oh before she moved, involuntarily though it was and she began to redress herself. Putting her bra back on, she shook her wavy, blond hair out her way as she put her blouse back on.

I suppose we should get back to the others now that you've 'cured' me, before your wife becomes anxious and begins a spell to age my body prematurely. Andreya bounced out of the room ahead of me, swishing her butt back and forth as she led the way back. I wasn't happy with her flippant attitude or even outright disregard for my 'miracle', not to mention she probably wouldn't back our play in this case and oh yeah, 'my wife' might be a little bit pissed at me.

The others had apparently been 'busy'as well in our absence, as a large atlas of Wisconsin was open to the middle section of the state. Discussion was halted when Andreya virtually skipped back into the room and I silently entered behind her, making my way pointedly back to my seat beside Ellen and next to my sister.

So does this map mean we think they're still in Wisconsin? I said, trying to restart the conversation with my sister giving me an arched eyebrow(only one and it was something that I couldn't do, no matter how hard I tried—damn her), but Ellen took ahold of my hand and gave it(thus me) a reassuring squeeze with the hint of an apology in her eyes. Not really knowing if I deserved Ellen's apologetic look, I tried to focus on the topic at hand.

This is a composite list reporting missing teens and tweens and all other adolescents from around the same age bracket in the last month or so, leading up to your girls, Captain, and there is a lot that fit the parameters, that the kidnapping of your Daughters fit perfectly.

And those parameters would be?

Mysterious circumstances surrounding their disappearances, parents out of town and not suspects, almost all were taken at night and from very small towns, there's even been reports of 'flying creatures' seen in some of the cases as well. O'Neill snorted, then reconsidered his statement as he recalled what I had shown him.

Maybe we should concentrate on those locations, those witnesses, smirked Andreya. I mean, those sightings could be legitimate, now that we've learned about Michael and his sister,

Everybody else stared at the detective like she'd grown a third eye below her chin while I fumed at being duped. Ellen tried to kick her under the table, but her legs were too short to reach her target.

Umm, is there anyway to factor in their ancestry, Detective O'Neil? Say, if we could find out if they were all Swedish, German or even, Native American?

I thought you were Fae, Elvish or whatever?

In the United States, most Fae are of Native American descent. Those who are not, are usually immigrants from European nations or further east. Praxas, for example is Grecian in ancestry and nationality and I'm of Munsee-Delaware ancestry—

And I am of Mexican descent, yet also from Native American stock but Mayan and Incan, so South American Indian.

That's...interesting, Mr. Verum, Captain—Maybe we should do just that. I mean, running the names through the data base to correlate their ancestries. Simmons retreated to a nearby table where his laptop rested. He powered it up and sat down there, beginning to type to a staccato beat.

While Simmons entered the forty-seven names into a program that would sort out what we'd needed, the rest of us sat at the first table and looked at the atlas.

Is there any one location where there are more than a few children missing? Ellen couldn't see the maps, but that didn't mean she couldn't contribute to our discussion. Hell, she could probably be like Sherlock Holmes and solve a crime without leaving our house. Or was that Nero Wolfe? Or both? Oh well. Like I was saying, Ellen could stab at the map and probably be as accurate if not more so, as to where the epicenter of the missing kids was.

The largest group of missing kids from any one locale would be in this county, a small town founded on the edges of a smaller Indian Reservation...here. Simmons pointed at a spot in the midst of the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest. "The nearest town is called Temple Lake Township, near Temple Lake and the Marsh River Indian Reservation. Eight kids, all girls, disappeared within the 'borders' of the Forest. Problem being, it's a kind of harsh place to find any clues, especially in a winter like the one we've been having, all the snow and ice and cold temps.

Not everyone in these townships around the reservation or even in the reservation are all that friendly to outsiders, either. I used to be a small town cop, I know. I've experienced small town emotions and they can be powerful and hateful and long-lasting. But most of this data has only been collated in the last ten hours—we really didn't have any clues or insight that there was a kidnapping frenzy, for want of a better word, in this region. Now that we do, what can we do about it? Is this where you could lend us a hand?

I decided to take pity on this group of clueless 'coppers' and tossed our cards onto the table, so to speak. We could get into the forest, search where you couldn't or can't, while you narrow down our search by more conventional means. Can you commandeer a Motel Six or someplace near this Marsh River Indian Reservation? A place to rendezvous at, to base our explorations from?

I'm sure we can find rooms for us—um, is your wife holding a weapon? Ack! Andreya paled as Ellen manuevered one of my swords around like a Hawaiian firedancer. Hendrickson thought of making a move for his weapon but Eva neatly, almost literally, cut him off at the pass with an overhead double-handed stabbing stroke that lodged the sword in the table, just short of his lap.

Jes-us! Auggie, coming back with the results of data search, came close to having his sideburns