ACT III

# # #

"You have quite the reputation in this town.", Mike said quietly, keeping his composure, his expression deliberately unreadable.

At a snail's pace, he moved his right hand toward the edge of his open dress coat, bringing it closer to the .38 Special securely stored away in the holster by his side.

Carl, the illusive hermit, didn't look quite as threatening as the town's report had made him out to be- not much of a surprise for Mike, who knew well enough that folklore and human imagination could turn a molehill into a mountain more often than not.

At just over six feet, the man's shoulders were sunken, his cheeks hollow, hair disheveled, his eyes frantic, like a wild animal that had been cornered.

Not waiting for a reply, he carefully took a step closer, protectively positioning himself between the illusive man and his partner, who followed the interaction wide-eyed.

"We are not here to hurt you, or take you from this place…", Mike then reassured, happy to see the other man relax slightly, "We just want to ask you some questions about a murder that took place…and a little boy that's missing."

At the mentioning of the Saunders' case, the other man's eyes widened enough to see the whites, his expression growing tense, his lips pursed as he puffed out a frantic breath.

"No…no no no."

Carl's raspy voice was terror-stricken, undoubtedly proving what they had suspected- the man had indeed seen something, something that might help them solve this case after all.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but you can trust us.", Mike began again, his mind racing as he tried to choose the right words, "We are not associated with the police here. My partner and I…we're from San Francisco. A dear friend of mine was handling this case but he…well…he died. And now we took over for him and we want to find out what happened. We want to find the killer and we want to find little Kevin and make sure he's safe…"

"No…no…the kid…", Carl mumbled, his eyes drifting to the ground, his head weaving back at forth as whichever horrific imaged he witnessed played back out in his mind.

"Did you see the man who took Kevin? Did you see where they went?"

This time it was Steve who spoke up, his voice calm even though Mike could detect the slightest of trembling in it.

With his body halfway turned toward the man who had approached them from behind, the young Inspector stayed still, hoping to aid in keeping their potential witness as calm as possible.

"The kid…", Carl mumbled again, more somber than frantic this time, as he ran a nervous hand across his worn out dark green jacket, "No…no!"

"Did that man…did you see that man hurt Kevin?"

It took all of Mike's willpower to keep his own voice from trembling when he said that, the subtle nod he received as an answer from Carl making the blood freeze in his veins.

Clenching his jaws, he met Steve's gaze for a brief moment, both detectives sensing the heartbreaking dead-end road they were about to enter.

Then, with a snort that almost sounded like a sob, Carl grabbed the young Inspector's coat sleeve and began to pull him deeper into the woods.

Frowning in surprise, Mike followed along, trying to ignore the underbrush and thorny vines tugging on his pantlegs and socks.

A foreboding darkness settled over them after a few hundred feet, the terrain turning increasingly harder to navigate. Small boulders and fallen trees tripped them up as they followed a quietly mumbling Carl deeper into the woods, both detectives mentally preparing for what might await them.

Here and there, the illusive hermit stopped, as if he was struggling to remember where to go, only to grunt and continue on.

Finally, after several moments of uncertainty, they came to a stop at a marshy pond cut into the otherwise uneven landscape.

Littered with pine needles, rotten branches and algae, the standing water was a dark shade of brownish green, giving off a musty smell with a hint of raw sewage.

Mike let his eyes drift over the unmoving surface, noticing a frog sitting on the shiny branch stripped off its bark sticking out near the middle, the exposed rocks here and there covered in a thick layer of moss.

Even though the pond was nothing more than a glorified puddle, it kept the area wet enough that the ground under his feet was soggy, making him sink in enough that water was beginning to bubble up on the sides of his black leather dress shoes.

Never letting go of Steve's sleeve, Carl drew in a wheezy breath, visibly struggling with being in the area, his incoherent mumbling turning into a frantic singsong as he came to a complete halt, then counted out a handful of steps, before stopping near a larger rock bordered by water so dark and murky, he couldn't see the bottom even though it was only inches below the surface.

"Is…is he here? Is Kevin here?", Mike asked quietly, meeting his partner's terror-stricken eyes, both detectives loathing the nod that followed shortly after.

With a guttural groan, Carl let go of the young Inspector's sleeve and fell to his knees next to the rock, his hands cradling it affectionately for many long moments, his desperate singsong the only noise in the otherwise still forest.

Then, with surprising strength, he got a hold of the rock and rolled it off to the side, exposing mud-covered, light brown hair atop a child-size caved-in skull down below.