Read Blood Foam: A Lewis Cole Mystery (Lewis Cole series) for Free Online

that they’re running away from. Some little voice inside their head tells them today is the day to strike out for the territories, and off they go.”
    I said, “But Mark is a lawyer, counsel for the town of Tyler, and a couple of weeks ago, he asked Paula Quinn to marry him.”
    “Not the sign of someone who is preparing to run.”
    “No,” I said. “Which is why I think he’s probably dead, maybe in a one-car accident on a remote road, or maybe he got swept off a breakwater somewhere along the coast and drowned. Or some other death by misadventure.”
    He put the photo down again. “If that’s what you think, then what kind of favor do you need me for?”
    A young waitress dressed in tight black slacks and white top came by to take our order. She had full brunette hair, an engaging smile, and said her name was Corey. Felix placed an order for a filet mignon—medium rare—with a side of two lobster tails, risotto, and house salad, and I tried to make do with a Caesar salad and a crock of French onion soup.
    Felix took the menu from my hand and said: “Corey?”
    “Yes?” she said, smiling widely.
    “This fine fellow across from me is . . . what you call ‘special.’ He’s confused about his order, so forget what he just said and bring him the same as me.”
    “Felix. . . .”
    “Please, dad, don’t make a scene in front of this sweet young lady, okay?” Felix said in a soothing voice.
    I kept my mouth shut and noted that Corey looked back at us twice as she walked back into the kitchen.
    Correction: she looked back twice at Felix.
    “Still waiting for an answer. What do you think I can do for you?” he asked.
    “The way Mark left . . . sudden but not in a rush. I spent some time at his condo. Looked like the maid had just visited. Nothing out of place. Nothing to indicate that he was in one hell of a hurry to leave.”
    “But he’s still gone.”
    “Yeah. Like he was terribly scared of something, something so bad that he left without telling his law firm, the town, or his fiancée.”
    “What did the town say? Any angry workers or lawyers after him for some legal-related matter?”
    “No.”
    “His law firm?”
    “They still believe in confidentiality. So no joy there. But they don’t do much in the way of criminal work . . . but I’m thinking something about his law career got him into a spot that scared him. Or his past.”
    That got his attention. “What about his past? I thought he was a straight shooter, straight dresser, straight boredom.”
    “Me too. But I checked out the missing-persons report Paula filed with the Tyler cops. Supposedly he was born in Vermont, went to school in Massachusetts, ended up here in New Hampshire. But his Social Security number begins with the numerals five-two-zero.”
    That really got Felix’s attention. “New England Social Security numbers don’t begin with five. They begin with zero.”
    “That’s right. They don’t.”
    “And he spent his entire life in New England?”
    “In Vermont, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire. According to his records. But a Social Security number that begins with five-two-zero means it was assigned in Wyoming.”
    Felix said, “His records are wrong. Or they’ve been messed with. Or a combination thereof. What are you thinking?”
    Our salads were placed in front of us by the attentive Corey. Correction: I received about twenty percent of the attention; Felix received the other eighty percent.
    “I was thinking of WITSEC ,” I said. “Witness protection. But that doesn’t make sense. He’s too young, to begin with. Most WITSEC are people who’ve been doing criminal things for a long time. Secondly, he’s in too public a position. WITSEC likes to relocate their people to remote areas. Tyler and Tyler Beach aren’t Long Beach, but you still get tens of thousands of people rolling in every summer weekend. And his job . . . a lawyer? Counsel for the town? His name and photo get in the newspaper about once a