We could try to spend next weekend out together, maybe it could help us forget more quickly what happened."
James looked at her more and more astonished because in the last few years she had always shown herself reluctant to leave the narrow margins of the country, and even on the rare occasions that they had planned something, an unexpected last-minute event had always occurred forcing them to give up. And often the unexpected had something to do with her work or even with Dr. Parker himself. Those facts, along with so many other small signs, had almost led him to suspect that she had some particular reason to be holed up in that anonymous town, so much that she sabotages their holidays.
"I have no intention of forgetting, I want to understand," he pointed out with his usual air, abruptly changing his expression. "I want to understand why our son seemed to have become another person, and if necessary I want someone to visit him."
"Oh yes? And who would be to visit him, maybe an exorcist?" She taunted him, her sarcasm broke in an instant the idyll that James created in his mind.
"Eat, cold fries really suck," she added to end the conversation as he continued to stare at her disappointed, then stabbed a croquette and resumed eating.
At exactly seven o'clock Helen went to the meeting room where her little "A-Team" was waiting for her, it was time to take stock of the day. "So who wants to start?" She asked democratically, taking his place behind the bench and Agent Jones was the first one to raise her hand.
"Claretta is always the most hurried," Benelli teased, as usual, snatching a few smiles from his colleagues.
"If instead of having your wife who prepares always your dinner, you would have to run home to look after three children, you too would have hurried," she replied, looking him up and down.
"Well, then let's hear what you have to say," Helen said. "Has anyone noticed our subjects here in the area recently?"
"Nobody saw anyone," said Claretta.
"It was to be expected. Maybe they had arrived that night from who knows where and probably were headed for who knows where ..." commented Helen. Then she turned to Benelli. "Mario, what news do you bring us from the second inspection?"
"None. I scoured the area again, I was there for more than three hours but I didn't find anything interesting."
"Surely, starting from Tomorrow, there will be lots of onlookers out there and I don't want them to set foot there, have you fenced the perimeter well?"
"Yes, boss."
"Is there anything else?" Helen asked him, he shook his head and she looked at Joe.
"How is your research going?"
"It was a goose egg, I have not found a single recent case that is similar to ours. There have been a couple in Alaska but it's old stuff from years ago, more than twenty people have disappeared in Maine only in the last two weeks, but judging by mug shots, no one reported the missing of our "guests"," replied the big man.
Helen felt just a little bit reassured, because if someone had appeared to ask for explanations she would not have known what to tell, instead, thus they had at least a little more time to investigate.
"Has anyone heard something about the author of the call?" The audience then asked, clinging to a thin thread of hope, but everyone shook their heads in denial.
Dower's turn came. "At the DMV they didn't know what to say, when the clerk questioned the terminal this replied that there is no Cadillac with that chassis number.
The old Bob is checking it piece by piece, but he says there is nothing bad, simply, the car doesn't want to start going."
"From bad to worse ... we have two ghosts driving a ghost car ... however, it was to be expected," she commented.
"I would just like to know why the author of the call wanted to be unknown," said Claretta demoralized.
"There are two cases, or the person who called to report their bodies is somehow involved, or simply doesn't want trouble. For example, if he had made himself known, then he would have to explain what he was doing in the woods at that time of night," Helen explained. "Now go to rest, tomorrow will be a bad day for us all. To be able to get on top of this, we will have to jump through hoops," Helen concluded to dismiss the agents, and they began to prepare to leave the meeting room.
"Helen, Helen," Cindy called, breaking into the meeting room. She slipped and clung to the door handle to prevent from falling.
"What's so bad that you almost risk your neck?" Helen asked.
"I was afraid you were all gone already," she justified herself, struggling to stand on her feet, and Benelli brazenly laughed about her clumsiness.
"The guy from the car workshop just called, he said there is something absolutely incredible we must see immediately," she explained.
"What is it about?"
"He said it's very urgent, but he doesn't want to talk about it over the phone."
"And what did you say to him?"
"To hold the line."
Helen made her gaze run over the agents, they were looking at her like a schoolboy looks at the professor when, despite the last bell has been played for a while, he keeps you in the classroom to finish the explanation. After such a busy day, everyone wished rightly to return to their family, and she didn't feel like ordering someone to get sixty miles just to check what it was.
"Tell him we'll go tomorrow morning."
"But boss, the mechanic said ..."
"I understood perfectly what the mechanic said! If you care so much about it you can go there yourself tonight."
"Copy that," Cindy replied, then turned back to go to the switchboard.
"Now leave, before I change my mind," Helen ordered the agents, they sighed and began to leave the room.
"There is another thing," Benelli informed her.
"Yup?"
"Ms. Murphy called me at least a dozen times, today she was waiting for that famous story of border measurement. I promised her I'd call her back, what should I tell her?"
"That we are now busy with a more important case and we have no time for a stupid question of boundaries," she replied, throwing her eyes to the sky, then accompanied everyone to the front door to lock it.
Once alone, Helen went to check all doors and windows, then went to the guardhouse to pull a camping cot out of the closet and finally went to the bathroom to prepare herself for what it might have been another sleepless night. After brushing her teeth, she removed the very thin layer of makeup she applied to her eyes that morning. She did not like to make up her face, but after a few nights awake, the female part had taken over the Sheriff one, and like any self-respecting female, she had felt the need to hide those dark circles she had considered as deep as the Grand Canyon. She checked her little finger and had the impression that the itching had slightly decreased, on the contrary, the infection had already spread from her first phalanx to the second one, and even there the most superficial layer of the skin had begun to dry out. She decided to go as soon as
