Episode 10

     As a child, you grow up thinking that things are the way they are on the surface. That people are as they present themselves to be. At that point in time, you have no reason to doubt it. Right is right, blue is blue, and things are what they are.
      It's not until you get a little older that you realize that everyone wears a mask. Everyone presents themselves as one thing and sheds that persona when they think no one is watching. There's a saying that goes, "give a man a mask, and he'll show you his true self." Truer words were never spoken.
      Behind closed doors, or in the dead of the night, when the moon is the only eye that's watching, men can do terrible things. These are not men that look like monsters, they are not painted in a permanent scowl. The most dangerous are the wolves among us, the ones who hide behind a smile.

******

      A tractor idled beside an uncovered grave that the police had dug up. It's bucket was lowered down to ground level. Hanging from the edges, were two sets of chains that jingled all the way to the end, where a thick cloth like tarp had been tied into a hammock like shape.
      Two men stood at either end, inside the grave, pieces of torn t-shirt strips were wrapped around their faces to cover their noses. As gently as possible, the two men moved the pale, bruised body of a young girl. The girl's body was dark purple on the bottom half, as all of the blood had settled over the last few days. The men moved her into the cloth tarp, doing their best not to disturb any evidence that might be there. When they were finally satisfied with the placement, the man at the head of the grave gave a thumbs up to the one operating the tractor.
      The black and orange tractor rattled as the driver pulled a lever and the hydraulics shifted to lift the bucket. Everyone standing around the grave took a couple of steps back. The chains slowly began moving upward, link by link moving to the surface. Finally, the tarp surfaced and was raised above their heads.
      The girl's feet hung out of the end, soiled with dirt. J.W. motioned the operator to swing the bucket over to the side and place her down onto the grass. A team of investigators had set up an area to take samples of anything they could find.


"Damndest thing ain't it?"


      J.W. answered back.


"What's that?"


"Burying her out here. We never woulda found her. Not without that call. Who woulda thought to look in a graveyard. I know I wouldn't have."


      At that moment, a crackle came over the CB radio attached to J.W.'s hip. The voice that came over was panting and out of breath.


"J.W.!.....Truck just blew through the barricade down here. I didn't want to shoot his tires out.......He's headed your way!"


      Around a bend in the road, J.W. could see a truck barreling in the direction of the church. He didn't recognize it and wasted no time hurdling the chain link fence and readying his firearm. A couple of officers followed behind him.
      The truck screeched to a stop in the parking lot, just in front of the men. The driver's side door flew open and J.W. holstered his gun. His heart felt as if it fell into his stomach. He held his arms out to hold the man off, but instead the man collapsed into them. It was Thomas Freemaux, the girl's father.


"Hold it now Thomas! Just hold it......we can't..."


"Tell me! Tell me it's her!", he screamed through the tears.


      Thomas stared into J.W.'s eyes, his were bloodshot red with pain.


"Don't bullshit me J.W. You know her. Is it her?!"


      J.W. could only stare back with a silent look of sympathy. Thomas fell to his knees weeping. J.W. dropped down with him and held the broken man in his arms.

******

      Campbell stayed on the car's tail until the person driving noticed the flashing red light on top of his truck. It's brake lights began to shine as it pulled onto the shoulder of the road. Campbell followed and stopped a short distance behind.
      In the seat beside him sat a pair of black leather gloves laying neatly on top of one another. He pulled each one onto his hand, one at a time. He stretched his fingers out inside them so that they fit snuggly against his skin.
      As he stepped out of his truck, he looked in either direction of the road and saw only empty highway. He shut his door and began a slow steady walk toward the car. He could see the woman inside looking through the rearview mirror at his every move.
      By the time he reached the window, she was already rolling it down. The confused look on her face was evident.


"Sheriff.....a little out of your jurisdiction ain't you?"


      Campbell stared off into the distance, down the road.


"Well, you know what they say, the arm of justice knows no limitations."


"Was I speedin'?"


"Where you comin' from Rebecca?"


      J.W.'s estranged wife dropped her gaze down to her lap.


"Went to see J.W. Tryin' to get all this mess sorted out. But he won't have none of it so far."


      Campbell put one hand onto the roof of the car and leaned down.


"Sometimes it's best not to disturb calm waters, honey."


"What's this all about, Sheriff?"


      Rebecca began to lift her head and look back in Campbell's direction. It was at that moment that her head began to ring and her eyesight flashed, as his fist slammed into her temple. She let out a loud moan.
      A sinister look came across Campbell's face and he continued punching Rebecca over and over until she lost consciousness. Deep purple began to spread across her cheek as bruises immediately began to show. Her body slumped to the side and rested against the console.
      Campbell reached into the window and opened the car door from the inside. Once again, he looked in both directions down the stretch of highway. When he saw only open road, he bent down into the car and grabbed a handful of Rebecca's hair, dragging her limp body to the ground. Loose gravel crunched against her skin.
      A pool of blood began to form under her face as it leaked out from her nose and mouth. With the tip of his boot, Campbell unfurled her body until she lay out straight on her back. With both gloved hands, he grabbed her by the ankles and began dragging her toward his truck. The back of her shirt rolled up with the friction, exposing her bare skin to scrape against the ground.
      Rebecca let out another whisper of a moan. Campbell opened the driver's door to his truck and grabbed a roll of black electrical tape that was sitting on his seat. He stretched out a long portion of it in front of him. Looking down at her, he smiled.

******

      Later that night, J.W. sat down on his bed and let out a sigh of exhaustion. His boots, still dusted with the red dirt of the cemetery, pulled off with a strain. He sat them down neatly beside his night stand.
      He leaned his elbows down across his knees and hung his head. All the nights he had sat in this very spot and envisioned finding Elizabeth alive were dashed. Several times he had imagined her running into his arms. He, her saving hero. And then, he could finally feel like he was making a difference. But it was not to be.
      The only thing that kept him putting one foot in front of the other now, after being left alone and as a failure, was his faith in God. He prayed for the strength to carry on every night. And this night was no different. Only tonight, the thought of God reminded him of something else. Something he had put off for too long.
      Sitting on the night stand he grabbed his Bible and the napkin that both had not moved since he last thought about them. The pages flapped wildly as he searched for the scripture the girl in the bar had slipped to him. His finger dragged down the page and finally stopped.

"Do not be yoked together with evil doers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common? What fellowship can light have with darkness?"

      J.W. threw the Bible on the bed and quickly laced his boots back onto his feet. His truck keys jingled as he snatched them from his night stand. The soles of his boots were thundering across the house as he headed for the door. Then he stopped.
      Out of the living room window, in the dark of the night, two yellow headlights shown brightly. They bounced up and down as they made their way down his driveway. He stood silently as the beams of light pour across the front of his house. Alone, he stood, waiting.

Coroner's Report Case File (#48352)

Episode 9

     There's an old saying in the south, "What you lose in the fire, you will find in the ashes". There are several ways that can be interpreted, and it can mean different things to different people. But the core message can never be lost.
      People come and go out of our lives everyday. Possessions pass from hand to hand. And sometimes you can look up and realize that everything you started out with has changed into something new. Even birds will abandon last year's nest and build a new one when they return.
      But one universal truth will forever be true, that once you have something, it can never be lost. From the first moment two lovers share an embrace, no man, including themselves can destroy that moment. When a mother holds her new born infant for the first time, the feeling that springs from her soul will echo through eternity.
      People leave this life so quickly. Sometimes, before we ever get the chance to fully appreciate them. And sometimes they are stolen from us by the shadows of this world. But the old saying rings truer and louder than ever, that once you have someone they can never be lost. And when the fire burns out and embers cool, we will find nothing while sifting through the remains. Because that's exactly what we've lost, nothing.
      And in that moment you will realize, "What you lose in the fire, you will find in the ashes".

******

      By midmorning the work in the graveyard was well underway. The crew doing the walk through had found nothing, but the digging was coming along well. The sun had made it's way over the tops of the trees and beat down on the men working.
      J.W. stood outside the fence with his arms crossed on his chest, observing everything that was being done. All he could do is wait. In the back of his mind he wondered where Campbell might be. It was unlike him to ever miss work, especially amid something like this.
      One of the officers walked over to the edge of the yard and leaned both arms down on the chain link fence. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. J.W. walked over to him.


"How's it come?"


"We're about 3 1/2 foot down right now, shouldn't be too long. I can tell you that there's an odor."


"Hmmm....could be coming from inside the casket?"


"It's possible, the funeral wasn't but two weeks ago. I don't know how air tight them things are. Whatever it is, It's pretty stout."


"Alright, just take it slow, we'll see what we got."


      Behind him, J.W. could hear gravel kicking up from a vehicle approaching and then coming to a stop. The other officer leaned over to look around him and then nodded in that direction, before walking away.


"Well, I'm gonna leave you to this."


      J.W. turned to see a familiar car parked beside his own vehicle. It was a little two door job that he had bought a few years ago. Things were tight back then and it was the only thing he could find he could pay cash for. Behind the wheel, he could see the flowing hair and burning eyes of the person he had given it to.
      As she stepped out of the car, Rebecca exuded as much grace and appeal as she always had. The wind kicked her hair and she folded it behind her ear with one hand. She had the other shoved down into the pocket of her shorts. She looked down at the ground as she walked, in a meekish way.


"What are you doin' here?"


"Aint that a way to greet a lady? I come to see you of course."


"Where's your new puppy? He aint usually far behind."


"He's working nights. I waited till he went to sleep to come out here."


"You always were good at sneakin' out."


"You always been good at bein' a smartass too."


"Why don't you just tell me why you're here."


      She ran her fingers through her hair, starting at her forehead and going all the way back. She looked off into the trees across the road. She waited for a brief moment, then took a deep breath.


"About the papers, J.W."


"Well, I'm sorry you wasted a trip then."


      J.W. turned and walked toward the front steps of the church and sat down on them, pretending to examine whatever papers were in his hands. Rebecca followed and sat beside him, leaving only a small space between them.


"It doesn't have to go like this, you know."


"Well what way does it need to go then? We had a plan. I been in love with you since I was 16 years old. You agreed to the plan. In front of God and everyone else. You did. Then one day, for no reason, you decided to change it."


      She reached over and grabbed the side of his face gently with her hand.


"It aint for no reason, J.W. You will always be something very special to me. You are a good man. That aint gonna change. I did. The things I want changed. I don't know why. I prayed for them not to, but they did anyway."


"And he's got all these new needs covered?"


"It aint about him. The sooner you realize that, the easier this'll all be. For the both of us. I know it's gonna take time. You just let me know when you're ready."


     Rebecca stood up and began walking to her car. J.W. continued to sit and fight back his tears. He watched her as she walked, using all the determination in his body to not jump up and run after her.


"I'll always love you, Rebecca."


     She looked back briefly before climbing into her car.


"I know.....me too."


      J.W. hung his head in silence as the car drove away. And with it, every bit of hope he had in his heart disappeared into the distance. He felt like he could sit there forever. Just sink into the brick of the building and never return. Until his thoughts were interrupted.


"J.W.! We got her!"


      J.W. hopped up and looked toward the graveyard where the officers were standing. The one that had hollered at him stood with his hands on his hips staring down into the dark hole. The other two with shovels, leaned against them with one arm and held the collars of their shirts across their nose with the other.
      He jogged through the gates and zig zagged between the tombstones. His heart raced with fear and anticipation until he reached their side. And when he did, all of his worst fears came crashing down on him.
      What he saw took his breathe away so that he didn't even notice the stench. The pile of dirt they had shaved away was piled beside the headstone. It was fresh and dark brown. J.W. leaned over and looked into the hole. What he saw was not a casket, not burial flowers. But sticking up through the wet dirt was a pale, purple splotched foot.
      The men stood silently for a few moments, taking the time to realize what this meant. J.W. was the first to speak.


"Alright, let's back out of here. We'll get a CSI team down here. Let's rope off the whole damn place. No one goes in or out without signing a log.
I'm gonna get on the horn and try to get the Sheriff again. And for God's sake nobody talk to the damn press."

******

      That evening the news rang loud and clear across the ArkLaTex.

"KTBS has confirmed with local law enforcement that the body of missing Elizabeth Freemaux has been found.
She had been missing for 2 weeks, after leaving her home here in Zwolle. Her car was found some time shortly after, abandoned.
Police have been exhausting all resources in the search for this missing woman. But an anonymous tip is what eventually led to the discovery of her remains.
Our field reporter is at the scene of Bayou Scie Methodist Church where the girl's body was found. Apparently unearthed in a grave that had recently been dug for a legitimate funeral. Elizabeth Freemaux's body was then placed on top of the casket and recovered.
Three other missing women are still outstanding according to police records dating back to 1990 and 1991. It is unclear at this time if police suspect any connection between todays events and those disappearances."

******

     Miles away, Campbell sat on the side of the road in his pickup truck. The engine turned off and the breeze flowed through the rolled down window. He took out a fresh group of tobacco leaves from his Red Man chewing tobacco pouch, and tossed them into his mouth. The flavor rushed across his tongue and he spit out the window.
      He sat for a moment contemplating all the possible scenarios in his mind. Things that could go right, things that could go wrong. But he had an answer for all of them, he always had. Lost in thought he stared into the clouds passing overhead. They were dark and full of a promised storm. He raised his wrist and checked the time on his watch.
      Suddenly, a reflection in his rear view mirror caught his eye. The sun shone across the windshield of an approaching car coming up behind him. He watched as the car drew closer. "Hmmmm..." The small two door car passed where he was parked and Campbell watched it the whole way.
      He picked up his cowboy hat from the dashboard and placed it on his head snuggly. Underneath sat a red flashing globe light with a magnetic bottom. It blinked as the mirrored cell spun around inside and reflected the light. From the base ran a curly cord that plugged into the cigarette lighter in the console.
      With his left hand he picked it up, reached outside and slapped it against the roof of his truck. He rested his elbow against the rolled down window frame and the engine of the truck rattled to life as he cranked it.
      He pressed the gas until he gained on the car and then allowed the lights to do the rest. He could see the woman inside look up into her rearview mirror. And looking back at her, were his familiar eyes.

Declassified Case (# 48352) Photos

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Episode 8

     There comes a time in a man's life when everything around him starts rotting away. The people he once knew are greying and dying away. The buildings and places he had seen and known all of his life are in decay until they are torn down and something new takes it's place. There comes a time, when the life you had always known starts to fade away.
      Most people in this situation accept the circumstances dealt to them and face it with dignity. Others not so well.
      Some men rage against the change. Just when you think their slow decent into the quicksand of life has swallowed them up, a hand reaches through the abyss and claws at the surface. Wildly it tries to grab hold.....of anything.
      It's these men who are dangerous. Those who face the changing tide and can not accept it. These, are capable of anything. The people who would rather set themselves on fire and go out in a blazing light, than to fade away slowly into the night. Around them, no one is safe.

******

　

      Campbell stepped out of his truck and onto the parking lot of the "Quick Trip" gas station on the corner of main street. It was 7:30 in the morning, and he hadn't been to his office yet.
      The heels of his boots scratched across the concrete as he made his way to get his morning coffee. The mill across the train tracks, that ran through the middle of town, hissed steam out into the morning air. The bell on the door rang as he swung it open.
      He tipped his hat to a few men that were sitting around a table, in an area set aside for a small amount of dining, and continued on his way. He flicked his quarters across the counter top to the woman working the register and carried his paper cup over to a card table off to the side. It had been set up with a coffee pot, sugar, cream, and anything else you might need.
      A stream of sugar trickled into the black liquid and dissapeared beneath it. Campbell dropped a thin stirring straw in behind it and slowly stirred the coffee while the cup sat on the table. Suddenly, he could feel a presence behind him. He turned his head slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye. He saw a man standing, staring.


"George, can I do something for ya, or am I puttin' on a show?"


      The man shuffled up beside him.


"Sorry, Sheriff. I was just wonderin' what you was doin' here. I figured you would be out there with the rest of 'em."


"Out where?"


"Down at Bayou Scie, hell of a commotion goin' on. Seen just about every cop car in the parish out there. Figured every police we had was out there, until I saw you."


      Campbell stopped stirring his coffee and tapped the straw across the rim of the cup. He tossed it into a small trashcan positioned beside the table. With one hand, he dragged the cup off the table and up to his lips. The warm drink slid down his throat as he looked, not at the man, but through him.


"Bayou Scie huh? I ain't had my radio on this morning. Tryin' to clear my thoughts before I start my day. Guess I better head on over there."


"Good luck Sheriff, hope ya'll find something."


      Campbell walked toward the door with a concerned looked spreading across his face.


"Yeah...me too."


      The bell on the door rang once again and he exited the building. He stopped in his tracks as he made his way through the parking lot, as he noticed a man leaning against his truck.
      The man's hair was disheveled. His clothes were wrinkled with wear as if they hadn't been changed in days. The man was Thomas Freemaux. Campbell hadn't seen him since the day they found his daughter's car.
      Thomas stood up straight and waited for Campbell to reach him. As he did, Thomas looked toward the mill, the huge puffs of white smoke billowing and crawling through the sky as they were released from the stacks.


"You see that, Sheriff? She use to call that cotton candy when she was a little girl. We tried to tell her it was just smoke, but her imagination ran wild back then. She wouldn't accept no other explanation than what she had thought up."


"Kids are like that sometimes."


"She was my baby, Sheriff. Where is she?"


      Tears ran from his eyes and his hands trembled at his sides.


"We're doing everything we can, Thomas. She's......"


      In an instant, Thomas grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the driver's side door of his truck. Campbell's coffee cup rattled against the concrete, and a dark wetness around it slowly spread.
      Campbell held his hands out at his sides in a non-threatening way, but the stern look on his face told a different story. The men sitting inside the gas station stood up and looked out the store's glass front.


"Don't you fucking tell me that you're doing everything you can. If you were doin' everything you can then she'd be home! She wouldn't be gone!"


"Thomas, you need to look around you. Think before you make youre next move. So far you got one foot on the line ready to cross it, and if you do that, you're gonna spend a night behind a cell. So ease up off me."


      Slowly, Thomas' hands shakily released Cambell's collar and fell to his side. He looked directly into his eyes, through his own tears, for a few moments. Then, he turned his back on Campbell and began walking away. He repeated the same sentence over and over under his breath.


"You should have found her.....you should have found her"


      As thomas walked away, Campbell could feel the people inside the store staring at him. Watching for a reaction. He didn't look over, and climbed into his truck.

******

      A group of 10 to 15 officers stood in front of Bayou Scie Methodist Church. J.W. was perched on the steps looking down on the group and holding a notepad. A hush fell over the group as he began to speak.


"Alright, gentlemen. We are going to go about this slowly and methodically. Brown, you take your team and start a walkthrough from the south end. If there's a damn twig out of place, I want to know about it.
Torbert, your group take shifts removing dirt from the grave we got marked. Shave it off in thin layers, don't just dig. We don't know what's down there. If it is a body, we don't want to damage it."


      A thin man toward the back of the group raised his hand.


"What about the rest of us?"


"I want two of ya'll on each entrance. Don't let nobody you don't see in this group walk through those gates. If we do find something, we'll rope it off. Until then, you're the ropes."


      The group began to dispurse onto their individual duties. J.W. stood tapping the notepad against the side of his leg, staring into the distance. He half expected the sheriff to pull into view any second. His arrival would be a relief, so that he wouldn't have to shoulder all of this on his own.
      He turned to look out over the graveyard as the officers began their work. A group was walking shoulder to shoulder across the yard, inspecting every inch. A hushed breeze glided through the air, snapping the American flag back and forth on a pole to his right.

******

      Campbell walked through the entrance of the police staton and didn't stop to greet anyone. He headed straight for his office. The dispatcher on duty poked her head around the corner with a puzzled look on her face.


"Sheriff, I been tryin' to get you all mornin'. Why aren't you out at Bayou Scie with the rest of 'em?"


      Campbell rifled through the drawers of his desk with a determined scowl on his face. Finally, he pulled out a piece of paper, folded it and stuck it down into the pocket of his shirt.


"Sheryl, tell J.W. to handle that scene out there. I got something that needs doin'. I have confidence he is equal to the task. I'll radio in when I'm done."


"You got a lead, Sheriff?"


      He swung his lightweight windbreaker jacket, with "SHERIFF" printed on the back, off the hook on the wall. He threw it over his shoulder and made his way toward the exit.


"I got a sorta one, yeah."


      The dispatcher trailed him to the exit and watched him climb into his truck and slam the door behind him. The engine roared awake as he turned the key. She jumped back in a startle as Campbell's truck flung rocks as he raced away from the police station.

Episode 7

      Every Parish has its history, and Sabine is no different. It has its back roads, its creeks, little places that only the locals know. And that's the way it will remain. One such community, known as the Bayou Scie community, centralized around a church of the same name, has sat in existence since 1767.
      The community was originally known as "Las Cabezas", or The Heads. Early map makers spoke of crossing the Sabine River and making it only as far as this little community. The first church in Sabine Parish was later erected on that very spot. A census was attempted, but for unknown reasons was abandoned and left unfinished.
      Deep in the lore of Northern Louisiana, this community sits quietly. Surrounded by a dense and expansive forest known as "The Big Woods."
      Every community has a history. Every community has a story. For many years, this one was left untold, possibly out of fear, or possibly that there was no one left that knew the truth. This investigation continues now, with the revelation of the day the first body was found on the premises of Bayou Scie Methodist Church.

****

      J.W. picked the napkin off of the floor and stretched it out between his hands, revealing the scripture again. He thought back to Morgan, and how reluctant she had been to say anything at all. To give up any information whatsoever. How frail she had seemed. Almost broken.
      He walked to his bedroom and sat at the edge of his bed, shaking off his boots onto the floor. Finally, after days, he let the feeling of exhaustion wash over him. Every waking minute had been spent thinking about the girl. And now, in the privacy of his home, with no one watching, he could allow it all to fall away. For now at least.
      The napkin slowly uncrinkled across the top of his nightstand as J.W. lay on his back in the dark, looking up at the ceiling. He lay there for a while, trying to slow his mind down. The fan blades spun slowly and he felt his eyes becoming heavier as he watched them, until sleep overtook him.
      That night, he did not dream. The dramatic events of the day did not penetrate his sleep. Only darkness. The kind of rest you can only get when everything in you, body and mind, has been used up.

******

      The sun was just peeking over the pine trees when his eyes cracked open the following morning. His dog was already up and looking at him from the floor. Curled in a ball, it's tail began to wag as J.W. began to stir, until finally it hopped up on the bed to nudge him into action.
      He stood up and began unbuckling his belt and removing the uniform pants he hadn't bothered with the night before. He shucked them off and made his way into the bathroom. The knobs to the shower squealed open and steaming water rained down as he removed the rest of his clothing.
      When he entered the bedroom again, he had a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was still slightly damp and matted to his forehead. He opened the top drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a stick of deodorant. He turned the dial at the bottom of the tube and began to apply it. As he did, there was the napkin, still waiting.
      J.W. had no idea what the scripture might say or mean, or if it was even meant for him. But he intended to find out. He got down on one knee and reached underneath his bed. His hand returned gripping an old, dusty Bible he had stored away many months ago. He wiped the top of it off with his hand and sat back on the edge of the bed again.
      He opened it up and began thumbing through the pages, looking first for "2 Corinthians." He went past a few books of the Bible, the thin pages flapping back and forth, and finally he saw it. Looking back up at the napkin, he checked for the chapter and verse. And at that moment, he was interrupted by a low static.
      The hand held radio squealed and scratched before going silent again. J.W. picked it up and fiddled with the knobs, turning them back and forth. The racket didn't return, only silence. He lived too far outside of town to get much of a signal, but he knew there was chatter about something going on. Then the telephone rang from the kitchen.
      J.W. crossed the house and picked it up. He sighed as it left the receiver, knowing that his relaxation was over, and his day was about to begin.


"Hello?"


"Hey J.W., this is Sheryl at dispatch. I couldn't reach the sheriff. We got a call from an anonymous caller sayin' they know where that missin' girl is."


"Yeah? Well I got about twenty yesterday. Put it with all the other ones and we'll work our way down the list."


"This one's a little different.........the girl was cryin'. I sent patrol over there to take a look, and they said ya'll need to come down there."


"Dammit, I ain't even had my eggs yet."


"Well, tell that hen to keep 'em warm for you."


"What's the location?"


"It's over on 120, Bayou Scie Church. Apparently they found something in the cemetary over there."


"Alright, let me get my boots on."


"Oh, and J.W........bring a shovel."

******

      The whole town awoke that morning to the same news that J.W. had received. Something had been found in the Bayou Scie community. What it was, no one really knew for sure. Speculation took hold and spread like a cancer.
      The police had the highway blocked off about a quarter of a mile up the road to stop traffic from heading that way. They let a few odd cars through, people that actually lived out there. Everyone else was just spectators, people just wanting to see something that they could go back and have a story about.
      In front of the church was a large oak tree with it's limbs spreading out toward the sky. A few years back it had been struck by lightning. It burned for a good part of the night, almost split in two. For whatever reason, though, it didn't die. The very next spring, its leaves were as bright as the year before. That's where most of the congregating was.
     S.U.V.'s and cars belonging to the sheriff's department were ganged up around the tree, and policemen stood talking. Some sipped out of thermoses filled with coffee, while others pointed and talked about this and that. They did this, waiting on someone with some authority to show up.
      Behind the church stretched a graveyard with around 300 headstones lined up and down within a chain linked fence. An American flag flapped in the breeze atop a tall, white, paint chipped pole, just at the north corner. And within the yard, a single, small orange flag was placed in the ground, just in front of one of the headstones.

******

      Across the state line, in East Texas, Travis was walking through the door of his home. He could smell bacon frying as he made his way down the hallway. It wasn't every morning that Rebecca had breakfast made, but when she did, it reminded him just how much she meant to him.
      When he got in the view of the kitchen, he could see her standing there in her panties and a long t-shirt. She had a spatula in one hand and the other was placed on her hip as she watched the food cooking. He could hear the grease popping and the meat sizzling in the pan. He tried to slip up behind her unnoticed, but failed.


"Busy night?"


"Not really. Couple of speeders, but nothing to start a fire over."


"I just about got your plate ready. Go ahead and sit down, I'll bring it to you. You heard anything new about what's going on over in Sabine?"


      Travis shifted in his seat.


"They still ain't found her, don't even have a lead as far as we know. I did get a little chewin' out about going down there and talkin' to J.W."


"From who?"


"Everyone higher than me on the shit pole. Which is alot of people, in case you didn't know."


      Rebecca sat his plate down in front of him and put her hand on his shoulder.


"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you in any kind of trouble. I just don't know what to do, none of this was planned. You know that as well as I do."


      Travis stood up from the kitchen table, and just before leaving the room, he spoke in a defeated tone.


"I can't get in the middle of this anymore. My job is on the line. You two need to come to some sort of resolution, but I can't be your messenger anymore."


      He left the plate of food sitting, steam rising. It would sit there uneaten the rest of the day.

******

      J.W.'s truck pulled into view of the Bayou Scie Church and he could see the chaotic scene unfolding in front of him. Everyone stood around with no direction. Even a few civilians had made it through the line and were standing around talking with police. He rolled to a stop and jumped out of his truck with a purpose.


"Who is the leading officer here?"


      Everyone in a uniform snapped in his direction. J.W. was not the sheriff, but everyone knew that when Campbell wasn't around, J.W. acted on his behalf.


"I want to know why we got civilians standing around in the middle of a police operation. Get these damn people out of here and brief me on the situation."


      Officers began guiding the people away from the scene, while one stepped forward to talk with him.


"Sir, we got an anonymous report that she's out here in the cemetery. The missing Freemaux girl. Said she was put out there last night sometime."


"Well, have you looked? What did ya'll find?"


      The deputy looked back toward the cemetery and then to J.W. again.


"Well sir, that's the problem. The caller said she is IN the cemetery. Buried. We're just waiting on you to make the call. We could get a backhoe out here if you want."


"Buried? Son of a bitch. we can't dig up every grave out here. If it aint bad enough that this girl might be down there, we will upset every family that has a family member out here."


"No sir. Caller said start with the freshest one."


      J.W. leaned against the large oak tree, standing tall in front of the church, with one arm. He lowered his head, shaking it back and forth.


"This whole thing is a fuckin' mess."