NATALIE

I hung up the phone and reached into the jar for a cookie. Of course I shouldn’t be giving my two year old daughter cookies just because I’m depressed, but I simply couldn’t think about what was right at the moment. I had just gotten some lousy news.

Don’t be concerned, Jack is fine, I’m fine, Chelsea’s fine … we’re all fine. Except, I can’t fly. That was Siggie on the phone; the FAA shrink has refused to reinstate my pilot’s license. Both he and Siggie feel it’s too soon after the shock of Catherine’s … death … for me to be handling the controls. Don’t they know how much I need this? But then again, could I bear it if they’re right and I hurt someone because I can’t think clearly in a crisis? Crisis? You’d think I’d be use to that by now.  Ah well, there are crises and there are crises I guess. Right now, my life is far from a disaster. It’s just … kind of sad.

I handed a cookie to Eddie. What a sweet boy, especially when he’s here with just me and Chelsea. The baby’s even calm around him. “Eddie, do you mind watching Chels for a little while? I want to go over to the stable and do some paperwork at my office.”

“You okay?” he asked, politely not looking at my face, doing that I can be a grown up guy and still care if someone upset you thing. Of all the crazy things Jack and I have done, bringing Eddie into our family is one of the better ones.

“I’m just peachy,” I said, kissed two heads, collected my folders and headed out.

The stables are new and beautiful, painted pristine white and now nearly fully occupied since Hoffstetter’s has closed his doors and all his boarders are now our healthy income. East has a few hands who help him with the animals and general maintenance, and I handle the books.

Today, I’ll just stare at the books and pretend to be working. I’m so disappointed about my license but I know how I’m feeling goes deeper than that. I also know that quarterly taxes will be due soon and the books need to be in order. I have children and a house to care for and there’s no time for foolishness. And still I sat there, looking down at the plop and wetness an escaped tear had made on my notes.

Jack. Oh, how I miss Jack. His presence is so big that everything in my life seems emptier without him. The house, this farm, our bed. Empty and quiet and oh so very lonely. I let one more tear fall and ran a sleeve across my face.

“Darlin? You okay?”

I blinked. “Not really. How are you doing, East?”

CAL
 
I avoided all Inn activities now for a week. Piece of cake. It seemed the Crowe Cult wasn’t out to recruit or intimidate me, so after talking with a few of the actual members (Max Skinner, an interesting version of Jeff Wigand, a limp-wristed Aussie dude named Mitchell and Biebe himself – the obvious ring leader), I decided to make some inroads with interviews elsewhere.

Did this quaint little town know what was going on? Or, were they like some creepy village in a Steven King novel, all part of it? Were there human sacrifices going on in the mountains?  Okay, I was pretty sure it wasn’t going that far, but aside from political intrigue and corruption, this was the most interesting investigative story I’ve ever embarked on.

Today’s interviews will include competitive lodging here in Stowe. I want to know what other innkeepers think of Biebe. I wanted to talk with all the other businesses in town too, the stores, pubs, coffee shops. My scheduled meeting with Sheriff Ben Wade (I still can’t say that with a straight face) was cancelled. It seems there’s a crime wave in Stowe. Someone’s steeling Scruffy and Spot … especially if Scruffy and Spot have pedigrees. Sheriff Wade promised to meet later this week, but I have my doubts. Maybe his plastic surgery hasn’t healed just yet? These guys do have a standard to maintain. Hey, I wonder if the real Russell Crowe knows about this? I jotted a note to contact his Hollywood agent.

This morning was the first time I took advantage of my free breakfast at the Inn. Fuck. No way I’ll be missing that again. Even though one of the chef’s is part of the Crowe Cult Crew, it was still damn good!

LACHLAN

The business is doing well. The boys and I work our arses off and our reputation is growing beyond the local community. Times are tough and folks are hurting, but Green seems to be a magical word that attracts a lot of hope and attention. Even in the worst of times, some blokes manage to have money to spend, and Stowe, Vermont seems to have found its way onto the radar, attracting wealthy out of towners who want a place to get away from it all and who are more than happy to do their share to stimulate the local economy. Historic properties are being snapped up and contractors are scrambling to outbid each other. We’ve picked up four new projects this past month and I’m eyeing the old MacGruder mansion, locally referred to as the Rat Palace, but word’s out that a mysterious Brazilian millionaire has put in an offer, anxious to use it as a second home during his visits to the States. Where Skinner’s farmhouse provided us with word of mouth recognition, the MacGruder project could put Home Again firmly in the black.  

But hanging over all this mess of great expectations is something brewing back at home. Everything should be apples right now, but there’s something bothering Jessie that goes beyond a normal bit of a blue funk. I was hoping that it was simply the usual monthly moodiness that women go through, but something deeper seems to be involved.

It started the first evening we were alone in the house. It was probably my fault to begin with, because I came home late and didn’t call. I hadn’t planned it that way, but had wanted to check out a couple of properties and it was just one of those situations where time got away from me. These things happen sometimes; it doesn’t mean that I’m an inattentive husband or father because I happened to have a brain fart. But when I walked in the door just after eight thirty that evening I found a pan of lasagna thrown into the sink and a bowl of wilted salad sitting on the counter. I knew I’d blown it.

I called out Jessie’s name and was answered with silence. Running up the stairs I found her sound asleep in our bed, with Amanda sleeping softly beside her. I felt lower than a snake when I bent down to kiss both of them, realizing that Jessie’s pillow was wet, most likely from tears. The baby didn’t make a sound as I kissed her forehead, but her mother rolled away from me, pulling the covers tight about her like a cocoon. I didn’t push the issue; I deserved the cold shoulder treatment. But the following morning things weren’t any better; Jessie stayed in bed as I got ready for work, and even the baby slept in late.

It’s been the same thing every night this week; no dinner waiting, Jessie already asleep even though it was still early. Even Amanda seemed to be in on the conspiracy; cranky whenever I held her, reaching out for her mum as if I were a stranger or worse. It can dig away at a man’s more rational senses; have I been doing other things that could be considered thoughtless or selfish to the women in my life? I thought of quizzing Enid for answers, but so far, she still treats me like her beloved son in law who can do no wrong, and I didn’t want to push my luck.

I called home this afternoon during lunch and Jessie sounded distracted. I apologized again for the other night and promised that I’d make it up to both of them when I got home this evening. Her voice perked up a little and when we hung up I felt lighter, as if a large weight had been lifted. I even bought flowers before heading home. But when I walked in the door at six o’clock sharp, I found Jessie once again asleep on the bed.

I knelt down, watching her eyes fluttering open as I gently touched her cheek. “Where’s Manda?”

“With mom.” She smiled at the flowers. “Are these a peace offering?”

“Yeah, I guess they are. Sweetheart, is everything alright? I’m getting tired of being in the doghouse”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Pushing back the covers, she rolled onto her side, facing me. “But we really need to talk.”

JESSIE

I knew Lachlan was sorry for the other night, and I’m not one to hold a grudge. Well, not much anyways, but there was something heavier on my mind that I’ve been keeping to myself for the past couple of weeks and I haven’t been sure how to address it. I’d thought that it was better to wait until Egan and Jacob moved into their new house this past weekend, but this is even harder than I anticipated. Everything should be wonderful right now; we’ve talked about getting away for a long awaited honeymoon and I’ve been thinking of going back to school part time this fall; nothing too ambitious, maybe just a creative writing class. Lachlan’s been talking about getting a puppy, and he’s had his eye on this 1964 Plymouth Barracuda; it needs work, but I’ve been kind of hoping that it’ll be one more thing to keep him close to home.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not worried about Lachlan facing feminine temptation. I trust him with all my heart. But things have been, well, a bit stressful lately and we’ve both been on edge; Lachlan comes home tired and grumpy, and my feelings get hurt far too easily when he sometimes snaps at me. He feels awful afterwards, and I feel even worse. We’re supposed to be enjoying this time, but something keeps hanging over us like an oppressive fog. And it’s all my fault.

The expression on my husband’s handsome face went from hopeful to serious, like a man who’s bracing himself to hear something that he knows he’s not going to like.

“Okay …let’s talk.” He set the flowers down beside me on the pillow and I heard him sigh in resignation.

I reached for his hand and held it tight, hoping that I could draw some of his strength into me. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy with what I had to tell him. I took a deep breath and said the words quickly, as if that would somehow lighten the impact.

“Baby, I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows unknotted slightly and his expression took on a glow as if lit from within. I felt his whole body relax as he gave a soft chuckle.

“Is that all?”

His response didn’t quite register and I was overcome with guilt. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I know I said I’d take care of birth control, but it was only that one time and I was sure that it was okay …”

“When, I mean, which time … are you sure?”

Was it my imagination, or did he actually look very pleased with himself?

“About six weeks ago … remember that afternoon … in the closet?”

He gave a shit eating grin as he recalled the particular moment. We have a large walk in closet with a built in set of drawers that are just the right height … well, you get the idea. It was a moment of opportunity and I’d caught him right after a shower and he was standing there wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. His skin was still damp and he just smelled so good. Amanda had been down for a nap and everyone else had been gone for the afternoon doing one thing or another, and I didn’t really have to twist his arm …

“I always did love that closet.” He winked roguishly and his hand made a play for my breast. “Is this why you’ve been so tetchy lately?” He gave my nipple a gentle squeeze and I felt that familiar tingle in my stomach.

“Yes, and it’s gonna ruin everything. We have all these plans …”

He shushed me. “I think this is just how it’s gonna be with us, Jess. We managed when we found out about Amanda and we’ll manage this time. We’re becoming old pros at handling babies, which is a good thing, because it looks like you, Mrs. Curry, are apparently very fertile.”

Who’d have thought I’d end up being a Fertile Myrtle at 33 years of age? “I wanted to wait a couple of years. Amanda’ll still be in diapers and getting ready for potty training…”

“We’ll manage.”

“We wanted to take our honeymoon …”

“There’s nothing stopping us from going ahead with our plans. And now neither one of us has to worry about birth control.” He waggled his eyebrows and squeezed my breast again. “Although, I hope you’re still gonna let me buy that Barracuda. I talked to Colin this afternoon and he’s planning to come out between races towards the end of August and I’ve invited him to stay with us. I reckon we men are just little boys when you come right down to it.”

Aren’t all men little boys at heart? I’d never had much of a chance to get acquainted with Colin, but he and Lachlan talked on the phone on a regular basis and the conversations always reminded me of two high school boys discussing auto shop. Lord knows we had plenty of room to accommodate overnight guests.

“And you’re still set on getting a puppy?” Don’t get me wrong; I love animals, but house training, the chewing …

“Puppies and children belong together. Look at how happy Jacob is with his dog. Egan says the little bloke’s ecstatic.”

I wasn’t convinced. “Are we really gonna be able to do all this? Your business is taking on more projects and you’ll be exhausted when you get home …”

He stopped smiling, but the light was still in his eyes. “Sweetheart, coming home is the best part of my day. We’ve both agreed we wanted this big old house to be full of our children and lots of family members and if Riley and John can run a hotel with all the craziness on their end, I reckon we can manage just as well. It’ll be apples. I promise.”

His words of encouragement helped calm some of my fears. I had a happy thought.  “Maybe this one will be a boy.”

The grin came back. “Perhaps. But I won’t be disappointed if we have another girl. I kind of like the idea of being Big King Daddy of the household.” He leaned down to kiss me. “Does your mom have Amanda for the entire night?” His hand had slipped up under my nightgown and my whole body cried out for him.

“Yes.” My hands found their way beneath his old work shirt and I felt an electrical charge when my fingertips came in contact with his skin. “Let’s get naked.”

I didn’t have to ask twice.

EAST

Natalie was always a beauty, back in the days. I never got a shot at her. Rumor had it she considered takin’ me as her number one, but opted for Colin. Well, that worked out real bloody fine; I hear it led her to takin’ a knife to her wrists.

And now, Aubrey. So, where is he? The great sea captain who swept her off her feet, gave her twins and let his house burn down around her ears? No, I’m not blamin’ Jack for his daughter’s death, but it does seem a man shouldn’t desert his family, leave for months on end, especially with a wife so fragile.

Okay, Natalie is far from fragile, but there is something frail about her. There she was, sitting at her desk, wokin’ like an indentured servant while he sails the seven seas lookin’ for treasure. And … she’s cryin’. Breaks by achin’ heart to see her cryin’. So, I did what I do. Took her hand and said, “S’go. Wanna show ya somethin’, Nat.”

She argued a little, complaining that Eddie was watching Chelsea and she had to finish and get back to the house soon.

“Won’t take but a few minutes. It’s somethin’ ya need. I swear.”

And so finally I got Natalie into my arms. I keep a radio out near the corral, keep a tape in it. A waltz. Somethin’ that makes me think of better times, of the fairer sex and of the promise of somethin’ sweet.

She’s fluid on her feet, probably a natural rider. We glided and she smiled then laughed and dropped her head back. Couldn’t help myself. I lowered my mouth to her lovely, long neck and kissed the flesh at her warm pulse. Then my pulse shot to the bloody stars. Not because she responded in like, but because …

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I let her go so fast poor Natalie nearly fell to the ground. John Biebe glared at me. Fuck all, I thought a look from Aubrey could make me shit my pants. Biebe’s got a look far worse. I raised my hands, cleared my throat. “Uh … I gotta go.” And I got my sorry arse outta there. I needed a beer at Kennedy’s and I needed it bad.

CAL

Lunch time and I was sucking down a chili dog and fries at the Dairy Queen. Funny thing about Stowe Vermont. No neon. None. Nada. Even McDonald’s has a rustic wood-carved sign. This is one pristine town, although I can just imagine the tourism during ski season. I took another bite, wiped away orange grease with a paper napkin and flipped opened my notes.

Old Mayor Williams was a pleasant dude, as far from a politician as I’ve ever seen … except for Biebe. That was a curious thought. Maybe being mayor of a town that kept secrets wasn’t really a political process? I scratched my temple and flipped pages. Nah, there it was. Political as it comes and all the rules get followed to boot. Biebe’s opponent pulled out of the race so the entire election’s been put off a few more months. When I asked Williams who he suspected would run against Biebe, he just laughed. He said few people really like losing, so it might be hard to find another candidate. Seems Biebe is either that loved … or that feared. Sad for me, it was looking like loved was the answer to that one. At least according to all the other interviews I got that morning.

No one … and I mean no fucking one … had a bad thing to say about John Biebe. They loved him, how he helps the town and how he runs his business. In fact, when the fire happened at the inn, three of the major competitors were there to help the Biebe’s out. And there was another intriguing subject I had yet to explore … these Crowe Cult guys had women, in most cases, wives. Looked like Mrs. Biebe was as loved as her counterpart. I wondered if she looked like Biebe’s wife in that movie. Damn, some plastic surgeon was making a fortune!

When I asked the Mayor who, if forced to make a guess, should run against Biebe for the mayoral election he simply laughed. “Probably me, son. I’d lose. If his wife ran, we could be looking at a whole different platform.” The old fuck laughed for ten minutes.

Now it was time for me to find one of Biebe’s enemies. I overheard a conversation at Kennedy’s Pub the other night about Kevin Boyer, and how he and Biebe had a falling out. Maybe now I’d get to the meat of things.

JOHN

“Hi, John,” Natalie said. Fuck, she didn’t even look ruffled. It was like she thought the whole thing was kinda funny. “What are you doing here?”

“I fucking thought I was checking up on you. Guess I have perfect timing. Just what the hell were you doing?”

“Dancing?”

Yeah, it sounded more like a question than an answer and I glared. She chuckled.

“Chill. Nothing happened.”

“Would something have happened?”

Again she laughed and reached for my hand. “Come on in, I made sugar cookies today.”

Sure, usually I could be lured by desserts, but not this time. This time something was twisting in my gut, making me want blood. “Answer me, would … something … have … happened?”

She blinked. “What are you saying?”

“Jesus,” I groaned. And I gotta say here, I really did try to stop before I went any further but I was pretty damn pissed. So … it all fucking spilled out. “Natalie, God sakes! Why him? Why East? I mean fuck, you and me, we got history. If you’re looking to cheat on Jack, why not …” and I guess my brain caught up with what I was saying and cut the connection. Too late.

“John Biebe! What the hell are you saying? You’re a married man! I’m a married woman! And I’m not the one who got so close to cheating on my spouse I could have sneezed and gone biblical!”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. She was right. What the fuck was I saying?

“And!”

Obviously she wasn’t done talking. All I kept hoping was that East was well out of ear shot. No way I was living this down.

“Just because we were once lovers, doesn’t give you any rights to me, what I do or who I do it with! You can take your overprotective self back home you your wife and kid and leave me alone!” She tuned on her heel and stomped toward the house.

Oh fuck. I suddenly got this image of her on the phone with Riles. I ran after her. “Nat! Natalie. Wait!”

She stopped, swing a turn so fierce I kinda cringed. Then she hissed. “I love you John Biebe. You’ve always been there for me, been a friend and support through the toughest times of my life. But … you can’t go passing judgment on me. I said nothing happened and that’s the end of that.”

“Okay.”

“And you have no right to even think such things about me.”

“Okay”

“And about that other thing … about you saying if I was gonna do something it should be with –”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that.”

“You should be.” She finally stepped closer and kissed my cheek. “And, I’m sorry I brought up the almost screwing around on Riles thing.”

I grunted. Guess I deserved it.

“And,” she hooked her arm in mine. “After you have your cookie, you should go home to your own family. Mine is just fine and dandy. Nothing here for you to be worrying about.”

“Okay … um,” I said.

“And I won’t tell Riles about this.”

“I love you Natalie.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “well, sometimes I think we deserve to be friends. How’s Riley feeling, anyway?”

Am I a lucky puck or what? Almost got myself a permanent residence in the doghouse and it all worked out.

JACOB

I was a little sad to move out of Aunt Jessie and Uncle Lachlan’s house, but I was also happy; Bella can be with me all the time now, and my dad promised that he’d help me build a dog house. I don’t know why Bella needs a separate house all her own when she sleeps with me at night, but my dad said that it would be a good idea for her to stay outside in the backyard during the day when we were gone. I think maybe he’s right; Bella stayed in her crate when she was staying with Samantha, because her backyard fence was broken and Bella might have run away. But our fence is brand new and now Bella won’t be able to get out.

“It’ll be a real doggie mansion, with a patio and two windows.” My dad reached down to scratch Bella’s ears and he smiled when she lay down and rolled over onto her back. “Would you like that Bella? Your very own puppy penthouse?”

Bella wagged her tail and her whole rear end wiggled as my dad knelt down to scratch her tummy. He had a big smile on his face and it kind of looked like Bella was smiling, too.

“Is Samantha coming over for dinner?” I was hoping the answer would be yes, because she came over really early yesterday morning to use our shower, and she fixed me and my dad pancakes for breakfast. She made them in the shape of Mickey Mouse and my dad smiled all funny like when she made his into the shape of a heart. I was hoping that my dad would let her cook for us again.

“She’ll be here before noon and I’ll be taking both of you out to lunch. You in the mood for hamburgers?”

I nodded, watching my dad as she scratched Bella’s tummy one more time before he stood up again.

“I think Samantha will be in the mood for burgers too, but if she wants something different, I don’t want you to act too disappointed.”

I knew that Samantha would probably want hamburgers; just the other day she told me that the only thing she liked better was spaghetti. It’s funny; ever since Samantha’s been coming over all the time, my dad’s been less grumpy. He laughs a lot more now and he doesn’t get as upset with me when I forget to wash my hands or brush my teeth. I think he likes having her around because she’s so pretty and she’s a really good cook and maybe that’s why he smiles more. You know, the more I think about it, the more I think that maybe they should get married. It would be nice to have her here with us all the time.

Bella was still lying on her back and I sat down beside her just as my dad turned to go. 

“Try not to get dirty; I haven’t done the laundry yet and I don’t think you have any clean clothes left.”

I smiled and nodded and he smiled back at me before heading inside. Bella rolled over onto her tummy and put her head on my knee.

“You’d like to have Samantha over all the time, too, wouldn’t you?”

Bella licked my hand, and I know that she likes the idea as much as I do.

BEN

I was pretty damn confused. I sat with my men … and Samantha … in the conference room. It was a case I could feel okay letting her look into. Not too dangerous, unless she was a bitch … in the dog sense, that is.

I ain’t one to be passin’ no judgment on these people and this time, but something was pretty damn strange when a missing dog constituted grand larceny.  Here in the state of Vermont, stolen property exceeding nine hundred dollars means big trouble. Turns out, some of the pooches living around Stowe are worth even more ‘n that. Why anyone would pay anything for a damn dog is beyond me. Yeah, I guess even in my time I seen rich women pampering their little dogs like cherished kids, but to see it become what it has just don’t seem right.

Heard this mornin’ that Sophie, that butt-ugly dog the Biebe’s own, was bought from a breeder for somethin’ like fifteen hundred bucks. A breeder? It weren’t like Sophie gave prime steaks or nothing. Fifteen hundred dollars? That’d be a nice take in my day. Guess it still is. I did call Riley and warn her to keep the ugly dog inside.

Just another day in Stowe, Vermont. Someone’s stealing dogs. Rich people’s dogs. At least no one has gone as far as to ask for ransom and I didn’t need to be callin’ Thorne in on the case.

I pushed a hand through my hair and looked to Samantha. “You got a report?”

“Yes, sir,” she said all official like. “As of this morning, fourteen pedigree dogs of various breeds, ages and values have been stolen from within the town proper, three on the outskirts.”

“Woof, woof,” said Officer Parker and I wanted to laugh, but I got that look from Samantha. Hey, maybe she is a bitch? Okay, enough.

“Quiet,” I huffed. “Go on Officer DeLaCroix.”

“Sir, we have no evidence of break in, it seems all the animals were stolen in broad daylight, when the owners were either out or the dogs were tied up in the yard. The total current value of the stolen animals is nearly a half-million dollars … and … all the dogs were stolen in the past four days. Sheriff, whoever’s doing this has made one hell of a heist.”

“What’s he planning to do with fourteen mutts?” I asked.

“Pedigree dogs,” DeLaCroix corrected. “If he’s got a buyer, he’s about to become rich. I’ve done some checking, sir. Something just like this happened last spring in Long Island, New York and this past October in Fort Myers, Florida. It’s definitely a ring, and a damn good one at that.”

I reached out to take the report from her hands but she didn’t seem ready to hand it over. “Officer,” I said. “We have a detective department for this kinda stuff.”

“Yes, sir. I know. But …”

I stood and took the folder. “Everyone out, ‘cept you, DeLaCroix.”

As soon as the room was empty she huffed. “What did I say that was so bad? Sheriff, we have three, count’em, three detectives. Detective Granger is out on maternity leave, Detective Collier is three months from a retirement he should have taken three years ago, and Detective Brown is –”

“Don’t matter none, Officer. It has to be detective Brown’s case. Can’t spare you.” Damn, she had that pissed off/sad look on her face. “Samantha, listen darlin’. I expect you’ll try to cover what you can on this dog thing, but you have a job to do already. If you break the dog case, great. Just don’t be forgetting your first responsibility is to your regular duties, you got that? And,” I stood with a grunt and glared down my nose at her. “If you find something regarding these thefts, you get it to Brown. Don’t be putting yourself in any danger you don’t gotta be facing. Is that clear?”

She stood, shoulders straight and eyes forward. “It’s clear sir. But … at the risk of sounding belligerent, may I point out that you are my superior … not my father.”

“If ya didn’t act like a kid hungry to see how much ya could get away with, maybe I wouldn’t have to be worryin’ about you so much!” I snorted and started to leave. Then I heard her voice, all small and sweet.

“You worry about me? For real?”

“Yeah.” I looked at her. “I worry ‘bout you and I know a lot about you. For example, I know you don’t think much of my wife. But what you don’t know is that Tracy likes and admires you. Something else you don’t know, is that I’d rather my wife be curlin’ hair than carryin’ a pistol. In fact, if I had my way, you’d be doin’ anything but carryin’ a pistol. As it is, you’re a cop and I gotta deal with it. I don’t gotta like it and I ain’t gonna stop worryin’ about it. Are we done here?”

“Sir?”

“What?” I snapped. I just wanted to get the hell away from her.

“Thank you.”

KEVIN

The knock at my door was a surprise. LizBeth and I never get guests anymore. Before … we used to have John and Riles over a lot, some of the others too. Now I don’t talk to any of them. I hardly even talk with Lachlan, even though I’m his partner. It’s okay. I can be a silent partner. The income is too lucrative to walk away from.

At first, looking through the beveled glass, I almost laughed. I thought it was John. Thought he was pretty fucking brave to come and face me. After all, we pretty much made it clear to him and his wife that we prefer normal friends; the kind that have lived since birth in this world, not some celluloid paradigm place that can’t be explained for shit. But on second look I could tell it wasn’t John. When I opened the door, I knew I was in for something bad. I just didn’t know how fucking bad.

“Yeah,” I said. “Who are you and what the fuck do you want?”

“My name is Cal McAffrey. I’m a reporter and I’m doing a story on … well … on John Biebe.”