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steady worker. Always on time. Never takes a day off.”
    “When was the last time he was here?” Hank asked.
    The supervisor squinted again. “He showed up August 1st. Clocked out the next morning. Hasn’t been here since.”
    Hank was taking notes. “Do you have any contact phone numbers for him, besides his home phone?”
    “Nope. Just his home number.”
    “Residence at 266 Canderline Street, 3B?”
    “Yup.”
    Hank stared at his notes. “That’s all for now. Thank you.”
    They were at a dead end. Nobody had seen Bronson.
    Chad Bronson and Jenny were both missing.
    On the way home, Hank said, “I hate to say it, but it appears they may’ve run off somewhere together.”
    “Maybe. But where could they go without a car?” It was not a question.
     
     
    Tuesday, August 9th, 6:22 PM
     
    JENNY wasn’t uncomfortable. She wasn’t cold, or hungry or in need of anything. But she was afraid. Afraid because she’d seen Chad brutally murdered. She was afraid because when her assailant let her out of the trunk, and led her here, she’d seen his face. She could identify him easily. She was afraid he would likely have to kill her to protect himself. To keep her from turning him in. But then, why didn’t he just do it? Why had he kept her here all this time? Caring for her. Bringing her food. Talking with her. Making sure she was comfortable.
    The room where she was being held was nice enough. Sure, everything was old. Antique maybe. But it was functional. The closet was even filled with clothes. And the drawers as well. It seemed obvious to Jenny, this is, or had once been the bedroom of a woman. Or maybe a husband and wife, because the room contained a double bed, but no sign of a man’s presence.
    The walls were covered with wallpaper, creamy and pink roses. A bit faded, but still pretty. The dark hardwood floor needed a fresh coat of varnish. A large curtained window was on one side of the room. It was covered with bars on the outside of the glass, fastened in tight. They wouldn’t come loose. Jenny had tried. The only other means of exit was the bedroom door, but it was securely bolted from the outside.
    She loved to read, and the room was well supplied with books. A massive overstuffed bookcase took up half of one wall of the large room. She’d perused a few books, but couldn’t settle her mind long enough to actually finish one.
    Jenny had tried screaming for help earlier, but a look out the window told her it was no use. On the other side of a massive unkempt lawn, there was a decaying and weather-beaten barn, surrounded by fields of empty, and then what appeared to be an endless forest. She knew she was in a secluded spot. It did no good to call for help. No good at all.
    She sat on the edge of the bed and cried. She thought about her mother. Surely, she wondered where she was. And the police. Were the police looking for her? And about Chad. She thought fondly of Chad. Why had he been killed? And who was this little man who had killed him, and was terrorizing her? He’d said his name was Jeremy, and he wasn’t going to hurt her.
    With a sob of despair, she threw herself onto the bed, her gasps filling the room. She prayed. Prayed God would get her out of this place, and away from this terrible man.
    Her prayers were burst by the sound of an approaching vehicle. She could hear the gravel crunching under the tires as it drove in and squeaked to a stop near the house. She didn’t need to look out the window. She knew it was him. It was late afternoon, maybe early evening; just about the time he always arrived. She turned over on her side and soaked her pillow with tears.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 7
     
     
     
    Wednesday, August 10th, 8:20 AM
     
    CRANSTONS Department Store had turned a lot of work toward Lincoln Investigations, and when the head of security at Cranstons called Annie, she was obliged to drop all she was doing and head over immediately to consult with them.
    Cranstons was the anchor