Chapter 03
Week 03

They were not contacted during the second week. They were not contacted by the Thursday of the third week either.

"You don't have to do this." Jared said.

Will LaMontagne looked over at the cop in the driver's seat. He wondered if he looked as sick as he felt, what he was doing was wrong and he knew it. But what had happened was worse, and sometimes you have to commit a small wrong for the greater good. "Yeah, I do." He said. "I have a problem."

"Well, admitting that is the first step. Come on." Jared got out of the car and led the way into the building.

Once inside he introduced to a man named Bob. "…and you're here…?"

Will recognized an intro when he was handed one. "I'm here because I have a problem. Any chance I can share with the group tonight?"

"Sure. You can be first up if you like."

"I'd appreciate that."

The meeting opened with a short prayer and a bit of business tended to by Bob, and then, "Do we have anyone here new tonight?" Will was the only one who raised his hand. "All right, you said you wanted to share so come on up."

Will took a deep breath and went up to the front. "Hi. Now I know I'm supposed to say my first name and that I'm an addict and that I'm not supposed to talk about where I work. But I'm not going to do that because I want you all to be able to bust my nuts down to my knees if you feel the need. So I'll tell you, my name is Will LaMontagne Jr. and I'm a detective at DC Metro. My wife's name is JJ; she works over at the FBI. And this here…" He went to the white board behind him and quickly scrawled up a number. "That's my mother-in-law's number, her name is Sandy Jareau. Now I'm telling you all that because I'm not an addict. I'll be honest; I've never touched the stuff. I lied my way in here."

By now the assemblage of mostly men and all cops were outright pissed. They were at their most vulnerable in this space and did not appreciate having trust broken. "Then why the hell are you here?" One asked.

"Because I do have a problem; there's a guy who comes here, his name is Spencer, real tall, real skinny, real nerdy. When he first came here you probably wondered why a college professor showed up at a closed meeting for cops." They nodded their familiarity. "Well he works with my wife; he's my son's godfather. He went missing almost three weeks ago and they've got no leads. Not one. You guys are the only ones who knew him who haven't been interviewed yet. Now no one knows I'm here but I had to come ask. We need your help."

The men in the group all looked at each other, muttered a bit, and then nodded. Finally one of them asked, "What have you got?"

Will made several new friends that night and got no less than a dozen other agencies quietly on the case, but in the end they couldn't help him. Spencer had been clean for over five years they said. The ones who knew him best said that they worried about him after his girl died, but he stayed clean through it and for the past nine months hadn't even said anything about being tempted. From what they knew he was doing okay. And no one had been poking around, they were all cops with something to hide, they would have noticed.

There was nothing in the third week.