While Finley visited with the occupants of the Pink Palace, Wyborn had been visiting with Detectives Smith and Wesson.

And so far, neither Wybie nor the Detectives had found any enjoyment in the visit. (Although Detective Wesson had discovered he enjoyed fiddling with the water cooler in the interrogation room.)

Put simply, they were getting nowhere.

"Where are you hiding the little girl?" Smith would ask, his face beet red.

"I'm not hiding her anywhere," Wybie would protest. "I didn't kidnap her! I promise!"

Wesson would then smile kindly and pat Wybie's hand.

It's sort of a good cop/bad cop routine, Wybie figured. Although it's obvious the officers still have some work to do with the act.

"And now the girl's mother has disappeared," Smith bellowed. "Can you tell me where you've hidden her?"

Wybie shook his head, fed-up with Smith's bellowing and Wesson's patting.

"Like I keep saying, I've never kidnapped anyone. And if I told you where Coraline is right now…you wouldn't believe me."

Smith glared.

This went on for almost forty-five minutes.

Police Detectives Smith and Wesson met outside the interrogation room for a brief chat.

"He's good," Detective Smith said, with a hint of admiration. "A real tough nut to crack, wouldn't you say, Wesson?"

He glanced at his policing partner, not expecting an answer.

"I feel like a failure," Detective Wesson blurted. "First we can't track down the girl, then we lose track of the mother, and now we can't even get a confession out of the criminal." He hung his head, "I'm ready to give up on him, go turn in my badge, and consider alternative career options."

Detective Smith was dumbfounded. (But not for long.)

"Give up?" he sneered. "Those words aren't in your vocabulary. In fact, I didn't think you had any words in your vocabulary, but that's another investigation for another time. My point is, if we can't crack this case, no one can. Now let's go back in there and try once more. For justice!"

Detective Wesson shrugged and followed his inspiring colleague back into the interrogation room.

The suspect groaned, "I thought we were finished."

Police Detective Smith cleared his throat, "For the last time, where is Coraline Jones? If you do not tell us, it will definitely serve as proof of your guilt."

"Okay, okay!" Wybie gave in. "I've had enough. She's in the Other World. With the Other Mother, who has button eyes."

Detective Smith stared at him. So did Detective Wesson.

"No, I'm telling the truth! It sounds crazy, but—"

The metal door opened to let a thin man hurry inside.

"Back already?" Smith said to the man. "Good work, Billings. You've improved since the last time I saw you in action."

"We found no evidence that the girl or her mother were ever there," Billings announced to the two detectives.

"Drat!" Smith snapped his fingers.

"But I did find these," Billings continued.

He tossed a stack of envelopes onto the table.

Wybie stiffened, "Wait a minute—you can't search my house without a permit!"

Smith chuckled, "Too late, Mr. Lovat. Billings here just did. And in record time, I must say. You should come back to New York with us, Billings, play with the big boys."

Billings ignored this, "I found these letters locked in a box underneath his bed. There's about twenty of them. All written to—"

"To the Jones residence, I presume?" Smith cut in.

"Yes. I'll leave them here for you to look over."

Billings left the room, muttering something under his breath.

"A charming officer," Smith said. "He could have amounted to something, if he'd set his mind to it. Anyway," he motioned to his partner. "Let's have a look at the evidence."

Wybie gulped, "I can explain—"

Smith held up a hand, "Yes, I'm sure you can, but please wait until after I've read these. Thank you."

This took a few minutes. With every letter, Smith's smile grew. With every letter, Wybie's heart sank.

"Well, Mr. Lovat," Smith said once he'd finished going through the entire stack of letters that were now strewn across his desk. "Do you know what I think?"

"No?"

"I think you're a liar."

Wybie and Wesson gasped.

"According to your testimony, you tried to help Miss Jones, am I right?"

Wybie didn't say anything.

"And now you tell us she's trapped in some—fantasy world—with a monster who has buttons for eyes. How does the creature see?"

"Quite well, actually," Wybie replied.

"Hmph! You're a liar, through and through. I've seen your kind before, Mr. Lovat. It will be better for everyone if you decide to tell us the truth now."

Smith gave an encouraging nod, "Go ahead, confess."

Wybie bit his lip and cursed himself for not destroying the letters.

"Fine. You want to hear my confession? Here it is."

Wesson breathed a sigh of relief as Smith leaned over and whispered, "Told you he'd crack like a nut."

Wybie took a deep breath, "I did write those letters. I wrote the first one a month after Coraline left the Pink Palace, and the last one I wrote three days ago."

All three could feel the tension in the room. (It was decidedly unsettling.)

"I guess I just couldn't forget her. I mean, I think she may have—kind of—liked me when we were little. But that's not the point. The point is, I missed her. So I tried to put the past behind me. I tried—and I couldn't. Coraline was the first real 'friend' I'd ever had. When she moved out of the Pink Palace, she took a piece of me with her."

Wesson looked confused.

"Gross," Smith said. "What piece, exactly? No, don't answer that."

Wybie groaned, and rocked in his chair, "No, I mean—maybe I should have said that differently. But it all comes down to this: I kept writing things down. Things I wanted to say, that I never had the courage to say to her. Whenever I was about to put a letter in the mail, though, I got scared again. I hadn't seen her in a while, after all. I didn't even know if she remembered me. That's why I have a bunch of old letters boxed up and addressed to her—because I was never brave enough to send them, okay?"

If he had got up and walked out of the room, Detective Wesson might have let him go. Wybie thought he saw a teardrop fall from the big man's eyes.

Smith, however, was unchanged: "And that's the whole story, Mr. Lovat?"

Wybie started to grin, "Yeah, I guess it is."

He was proud to have finally confessed his feelings, even under such terrible circumstances.

"Nothing else to say?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then." The detective stood, "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, I'll escort you to your cell. You can stay there until you tell us where you're keeping the girl and her mother."

"No, please! She's in danger right now; you've got to believe me! She needs help, and I'll prove—"

His words faded as Smith signaled Wesson and Wybie was pushed roughly out of the room.