"It was, uh... it was more than just my friend, though," said Susan. "Ten people died. It was a huge deal for the whole town. You'll probably keep hearing about it the longer you stick around."
He already had, of course, from Alice. He debated briefly whether he should bring that up, but given Alice's apparently bad reputation in this town, he decided not to risk that yet. He didn't want to open him and his kids up to being ostracized by association to her. He felt like he might have to confront that choice again at some point, though.
He needed to focus on the investigation, but after hearing about this fire two times in as many days, he was beginning to wonder if it might somehow be related to Rex's death.
"How did the fire start?" said Colt.
She shrugged. "Heard it was some kind of faulty electrical thing."
He wanted to ask where it had happened, but somehow, he felt like that would be pushing it. He could probably find out those sorts of details from the local newspaper, anyway--assuming Orden even had one. Something to look into later.
"...How long ago was all this?" he chose to ask.
"About two and a half years, I guess."
"That must've been really hard. Kid like you."
She threw him a look, and he half-expected her to argue with him, to tell him how grown up and tough she was even back then. But she didn't. Her eyes just went to the pavement, and all she said was, "Yeah..."
Now he didn't know what to say. He'd already offered his condolences. What was left? He was struggling to think of a question that might help with the investigation, and he didn't want to spoil what little appreciation he might've gained from this girl.
"It's weird," said Susan. "You said something about this earlier, didn't you? About how it can be easier to talk to a stranger?"
"Yeah," said Colt.
"I guess you might've had a point."
"Well, we're not strangers anymore, Susan."
"Ugh, don't use my name like that. So awkward."
"Okay. We're not strangers anymore, you little shit."
She snorted. "Oh my god, seriously?"
"Was that too mean? Sorry."
She snorted again and sustained it into a laugh this time. "I mean, I guess it's fine. You really are rude, though, aren't you?"
"It's something I'm working on."
"Uh-huh. I feel like maybe you're not working on it as hard as you could be."
"Well, nobody's perfect."
"Yeah, okay." She was finished with her ice cream and stood up from the bench. "Y'know, I still think you're a freakin' weirdo, but... I guess--maybe--you might not be so bad."
"Thanks," Colt said dryly. "You're not the worst person I've ever met, either."
"Hehe. Guess I'll see you around."
"Guess you will."
"Thanks for the ice cream." She walked away, giving him a backwards wave.
Colt just watched her go. The kids were still finishing up their treats, so he sat there for a while longer as he debated what his next move should be. When they were done, he got up and returned to his car.
He decided to try the library. Orden only had one, and it wasn't exactly huge, but after that conversation with Susan, he felt like he needed to learn a little more about the town's history, and there was probably no better place to do that.
The librarian was a little old lady whose name he actually didn't know beforehand, but her nameplate said Darla Burns. She looked shocked to see him there and was quick to offer him a library card, but he politely declined, not wanting to show her his fake I.D. card in order to get it.
He noticed her eyes following him for a while as he got acquainted with the place. Judging from her reaction, it must've been years since she'd seen a face walk through those doors that she didn't immediately recognize.
Or, hell, maybe she was just surprised that anyone was visiting at all. Colt had seen busier graveyards.
He certainly didn't mind the peace and quiet, though.
After asking Darla if they had a newspaper collection, she guided him to the back and showed him a line of computers that looked about as old as he was. He thanked her, and she left him alone again.
These computers weren't like the more modern ones near the entrance of the building. These looked like they were dedicated specifically to archiving and didn't even have internet access--hence why they hadn't bothered to upgrade their hardware, he supposed.
He decided to take his time. While he didn't want to drag his feet with this investigation, he also wasn't entirely sure how he should proceed after this, so there was no point in rushing things.
And there was plenty of information to go through. They had over eighty years of newspapers archived on these machines.
Damn.
Well, it wasn't like he needed to go through them all.
The first thing he wanted to look up was this fire that he kept hearing about. Two and a half years ago, Susan had said. He started searching around the appropriate dates.
There it was. The headline read:
Tragic Blaze Claims Ten LivesHe started reading the main article.
It lined up with what Alice had told him. A youth assembly for the church. Obviously didn't happen at the church itself, though, considering he hadn't seen any sign of fire damage when he was there. And given how rundown the place was, it couldn't have been rebuilt so recently. So where, then?
A local residence, apparently. The home of one of the assembly's organizers. Burned to the ground.
Hmm.
Most of the issue was dedicated to the fire. The other articles were about the community's reaction to it. It had interviews with various residents, even a couple of the affected family members.
The issue after that one was basically a memorial. All of the victims of the fire were listed with their pictures and given entire articles of their own. So many young faces. He wondered which of them had been Susan's friend.
David Lark, Mark Richards, Oliver Harris, Tania Davis, Jason Millerman--
Millerman?
Related to Fred Millerman? The shop owner? The one with the horrible burn scar?
Wait a minute.
Had Fred been caught in the flames, too? The previous article never mentioned him, but that seemed like far too much of a coincidence. If he was there, then why would they have left him out?
Perhaps he requested it. He did seem to be one of the wealthier residents in the town, so maybe he had that kind of influence. But if so, that still left the question of why he would want to be left out.
Agh. There was no point in jumping to conclusions.
And hold on, what was this?
There was an unidentified child in the blaze?
What the fuck? How did that make any sense? Even if the body was charred beyond recognition, that shouldn't matter if the other nine victims were all identified. Simple process of elimination should've been able to resolve that one. Did the kid not have any family to notice he was gone? Or schoolmates, even?
Colt kept sifting through newspapers, advancing several weeks ahead, searching for any new developments or other information that came to light later on, but there wasn't much. He kept searching, though.
It took a long while. He ended up going all the way up to the most recent issues, just to be sure.
Even to this day, it seemed that the tenth victim remained unidentified.
How could that be? Had there been no dental records? Or was there something else going on here?
The more he learned about this town, the less he believed it was as peaceful as it first appeared to be. What was with this fucking place?
He decided to stay and keep going through the archives for a while longer, looking for anything that stuck out to him, even if it had nothing to do with the fire. In particular, he was looking for any articles that mentioned familiar names, especially those of potential suspects.
Alas, he did not have much luck. Fred Millerman was mentioned here and there in business-oriented articles or during a special sales event. Rexford Margot was mentioned a couple times in puff pieces, probably meant to make the citizens of the town feel safer by having such an "amazing" sheriff on the job. And there were a few other names he recognized occasionally as well, but nothing that bridged any investigative gaps for him.
Then he started searching for any reports of crimes. Newspapers were usually good for that, at least when it came to surface-level shit, but Colt wasn't seeing anything. And sure, it made a certain amount of sense for a town this small to not have crime that was worth reporting on, but as usual, Colt wasn't feeling so trusting about that.
He noticed an article from a twenty-year-old issue about the MMS Ringhorn, saying something about a festival that used to be held around it. It was a way for the townsfolk to show their appreciation to their gods, because they believed the old ship to be some kind gift from the heavens.
Oh, whatever.
At length, he began to realize how late it was getting. He'd gotten lunch from the library's vending machine, and the kids hadn't been too upset about that, but now they were looking at him expectantly again, no doubt waiting for dinner.
He gathered them up and returned home.
Once the meal was taken care of and the twins were settled in, he checked in with Bohwanox again. He decided to share his own findings about the fire first.
'You think that's connected to Rex's murder?'
'Not sure yet. It's just a feeling I've got. Town this small? Any big event like that is gonna affect everything. Could be that, even if it's not directly related to the current case, it might still end up helping me find something that is.'
'Well, if you say so. I've got nothing to report regarding Keith Hopper. He didn't have any visitors while I was at the prison, and he didn't talk to his cellmate at all.'
'Where are you now?'
'At the police station.'
'Have they ruled it a suicide?'
'They have not. I don't think they will, either.'
'Why?'
'Remember how I said some of them were heartbroken?'
'Ah. They just don't believe he would kill himself?'
'Pretty much. Surprisingly, one of our other suspects is leading the charge on that front. Leonard Pink seems to REALLY want to keep investigating.'
'Hmm. If he used to be close with Rex, then that would make sense, but his superior officer also shouldn't allow him to investigate a case that's so personal.'
'Yep. You're spot on. Leonard seems pretty pissed off, right now. He was trying to argue with his captain that his falling out with Rex would actually allow him to be objective, but uh, yeah, that didn't fly.'
'Question is, does he want to investigate because he actually cares? Or is he playing it up and really just trying to cover his tracks?'
'It's a bit early to say so, but I'm inclined to think he actually does care. Maybe I'm just naive, though.'
'Maybe you are.'
'Hey.'
They kept discussing the case for a while to no great revelation, until Colt eventually told the reaper in no uncertain terms that he was going to sleep.
'Fine, be that way,' said Boh. 'I think I'll go have another look around Orden.'
'Knock yourself out.'
In the morning, while Colt was preparing breakfast, the reaper's voice arrived again, asking him if he was awake yet. For a time, Colt considered not saying anything, but he gave in and asked what Boh wanted.
'Just wondering about this giant ship in the ground. You've seen this thing, right?'
'The MMS Ringhorn,' said Colt.
'Yeah. Any idea how it got here?'
'Nope.'
'And that doesn't pique your curiosity at all? The fact that there's a big wooden ship here, half-buried? And we're nowhere near any shipyards? Or large bodies of water, for that matter?'
'Sure, yeah, it's weird. What do you want me to say?'
'I'm just wondering if it's related to the case in some way.'
'Well, I'm pretty sure it's been there for a hundred years or some shit, so I highly doubt it.'
'Two hundred and twelve years, actually,' said Bohwanox.
Colt paused. 'How do you know that?'
'Overheard some people talking about it last night.'
<<Page 14 || Side Story Table of Contents || Page 16>>
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