Present Day…

I walked into the Wilton, Indiana police station, a quiet lobby with wood paneling that was probably last updated in the eighties. It reminded me of the station from Lockweed my father worked at.

Waiting in the lobby, a police officer walked by and scrunched his brow at me. He stared at the desk in the lobby and noticed no one was around.

“Hey, have you been helped at all?” He asked.

“Hi. I actually have a meeting with Sheriff Vernon, but I haven’t seen anyone around yet,” I said.

The officer waved me in. “C’mon back, I’ll take you to her.”

We strolled through a narrow hall and arrived at a door with a fogged glass window. He knocked, and a woman yelled, “Come on in.”

The officer opened the door for me, and I smiled at him as I passed him by.

“Thank you, Moe. Where the hell is Willie?” Sheriff Vernon said

Moe shrugged.

“Whatever. Thanks for bringing the suit in.” Sheriff Vernon gave me a smirk as Moe closed the door.” Mr. Wright, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I just wish it were under better circumstances,” she said.

I shook her hand. “Please. Call me Eddie. A pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Vernon.”

“Call me Martha.” She beamed, and I sat down in the chair across from her desk.

I could tell that Martha was probably in her early forties based on her slight wrinkles. She had blonde hair running below her chin in a bob with a beige hat. She was tall and athletic too.

“I want to thank you for coming in to help with this madness. The second I saw that these missing folks were from out of state, I knew I had to call in you fed fucks.”

I chuckled. “You know, my dad was a detective in my small hometown. Never could I have imagined him swearing like that.”

Martha seemed embarrassed. “Sorry, I just like to have a sense of humor about things. I understand it’s not always welcome. But when you’re dealing with bizarre murders, you have to do something to keep you sane. I guess dropping f-bombs and cracking jokes is therapeutic for me.”

I nodded. “It’s all right. I find it amusing.”

“Glad you think so. You know this is the first time I’ve ever requested help from the FBI for something. It feels weird.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that at all. It’s good you reached out. There’s a lot to this case, and I want it to be as collaborative of an effort as possible.”

“Great, because dealing with six people from three different states is...” Martha sighed. “Too much. So what do you have so far?”

I pulled open my laptop and started from the top of my notes. “John Allen and his friend Barry Howard were both 25. They were fraternity brothers for Sigma Nu, and both died from extreme blood loss. A tiny puncture was found in the ulnar and radial arteries. This suggests bizarre blood draining from the victims, which is believed to be the cause of death. Both of the punctures appeared to be from a hypodermic needle. John and Barry were from Ohio and studied at Ohio State. Both of them worked in finance but for two different companies in Cincinnati. They traveled west to Chicago six months ago to visit a fraternity friend named Peter. They never made it to Chicago. Neither of them seemed to have ever made any enemies, none that would have warranted a strange death as the one they suffered. There are more notes on them, but none that are very relevant to the other deaths.

“We take a look at Mitchell and Carol Boykins. Two victims from Virginia. Mitchell was 27, and Carol was 26. They married directly after college after graduating from UVA. Coincidentally they were traveling to Chicago as well. Planning for a fun weekend of visiting friends and touring the city. They never made it, and they also had the same puncture marks as the previous victims.

“And then the last two. Raymond Smith and Cole Muir. 28 and 29. Childhood friends that grew up in Western Tennessee. They never went to Chicago, but they took a trip almost two years ago. They wanted to visit a buddy of theirs who lived in the city. He claims that they never arrived. Which makes a lot of sense because they were found on the edges of Wilton, Indiana. Dead on a farm. I can’t think of a motive for their friend to kill them unless they lost a sports bet.” I didn’t like making that joke, but I knew it would make Martha grin, and she did.

“See? You have to make a joke sometimes. Atta boy, Eddie. I thought you feds might all just be personality-less drones, but you seem like a personable guy.”

“It’s actually an important part of being in the FBI. Gotta be able to communicate. But did you notice where all of the people were traveling to?”

“Wow, so all of them were going to Chicago. Tell me something I don’t know. C’mon, G-man.”

“The highway, Indiana 9, is a good way to get to Chicago if you’re avoiding tolls. I imagine they stopped in town for an early dinner or late lunch. Perhaps something caught their eye that made them stick around in town. Any insight on where young people would want to hang out?”

Martha rubbed her chin. “You’ve done your research on the town in assuming, yes?”

“I have.”

“Where do you think the kids hang out?”

“If I had to take a guess, I’d say it’s Club Novus.”

Martha nodded. “You’re both right and wrong. People from outside the town, I think, go in and work there. It’s invite-only, though, to get in. How they determine it, I have no idea. And I’ve questioned the bouncer that works there, and he told me he didn’t see any of those victims that night. Then I finally got ahold of the owner, his name is Percy. He showed me around his club as a show of good faith, I guess. He told me I could comb through all I wanted. Sure enough, I did some checking with some guys here. Percy understood the protocols and procedures but couldn’t find a damn thing that could be incriminating against him or his club.”

“It’s invite-only to get in there on a regular night?”

Martha nodded.

“So do you think John Allen and the rest of them could’ve gotten an invite if they were only in town for a brief period?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. The club-goers, I think, are mostly from out of town. Friends of Percy from all over. No idea how invites get handed out around here, though.”

“What about some of the other places? I’d like to perhaps check out other establishments in the meantime that people hang around at.”

“Well, let’s see...” Martha rubbed her chin. “There’s Big Henry’s, a bar where a lot of people like to go to catch whatever game is on. But also a popular spot for the Colts games and Pacers games. If you don’t show up at least an hour early for Colts games, you probably won’t get a spot. That’s the place to watch football during the season. Same with Saturdays. They give a lot of love to Notre Dame football, but you can usually watch the Purdue or Hoosier games too. Hell, they have all three school logos made into a neon sign.”

“Hm. John Allen and Barry Howard were both college football fanatics. Do you know if they stopped off at Big Henry’s?”

“They probably did, but no one can remember. The bartender can’t, the servers can’t, nor Clyde.”

“Who’s Clyde?”

Martha sighed. “Just the guy who’s up there getting drunk every day. Retired. Stays as far away from his family as he possibly can.”

“Ah. Did you talk to anyone else who may have been there?”

Martha shook her head. “I went in there one night to chat with some people who frequent the bar about the night when John and Barry went missing, but no one had any idea who I was talking about. But it had also been a while. Just like any establishment in a city off the highway, sometimes you just get random travelers passing by. There are so many of them, you forget what they look like, especially if you’re going back a year.”

“I see. Well, I guess I should start with Big Henry’s. Unless there’s another spot where the younger crowds like to hang out?”

“So like I said, sometimes they go to Big Henry’s, and the other place that’s popular with the bohemian crowd is The Painted Goose. I’ve also talked to the pub owner, Vivian Shelton, but she doesn’t have any memory of those six patrons.”

“Do both of these places serve food?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wonder if any of the victims went there for early lunch or early dinner. It would certainly make sense.”

“Did you see the diner coming in from the highway? It looks like a stainless steel trailer with a green neon sign that says ‘Buckwheat’s’ on the front with a clock?”

“Yes, I did notice it.”

“It would make sense if they went there to eat too. But again, I talked with the restaurant manager and the servers. Couldn’t get any information out of them regarding the victims. But perhaps you’re aware of special federal questions that I don’t have access to that might lead to more.” Martha’s lips folded up into a smarmy v-shape.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’d still like to pay these places a visit. There’s a lot of ground to cover here. I appreciate all of the work you’ve already done. I’m just going to try and blend in as if I’m just a traveler passing by who’s taken a liking to this small town.”

Martha pursed her brow. “Are you suggesting that you’re going undercover?”

“Not exactly if someone asks me who I am or what I’m doing here. I’ll just say I’m with the FBI. I will tell the truth. I’m hoping to gain the trust of some people here, and perhaps that leads to clues while investigating buildings in question. If I’m honest, I believe something happened here. Another bizarre note I’ve yet to mention is that we have no cell phone data on any of them. After talking with the phone company, it’s like their phones were taken away and thrown in an incinerator as soon as they got here. The only thing that suggests something happened in one of the establishments in town is that their cars were all left fully packed and towed away. Which would suggest that they made it further than Buckwheat’s’.”

“I see. Well, if there’s anything I can help you with, I’m happy to offer my services to you.”

“Thank you. I’m also wondering where I should stay? I saw a beautiful three-story inn up the road from the downtown strip. Might I be able to stay there for an extended period? It seems like a charming place.”

“Oh yes, Laura and Christopher’s. You’d be correct. It is a charming place. I think we could set you up with a room for however long you need.”

“That would be wonderful. I’d like to settle for a bit before I go out tonight and see where the evening takes me.” I stuffed my laptop back into my bag and stood up. “There’s one other thing I wanted to ask you. Did you tell many people that an FBI special agent was coming to town?”

“Only my fellow officers, but I don’t think they’ve said a word to anyone.”

“Good, I just wanted to keep a low profile. I want to see where the night takes me as if I’m just an ordinary citizen.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“First, I’m going to go to the inn, but once I get everything all unpacked, I’m going to go to Big Henry’s first, I think.”

“Let me go with you to Laura and Christopher’s inn. I think if you told the front desk worker, Regina, that you were an FBI agent that was going to be staying for a while, I think she would pass out.” Martha cracked up.

“Lead the way,” I said, and we left her office into the tiny police station parking lot.