Chapter Sixteen: Learning

Sara frowned timidly as she walked along the bookshelf, her fingers grazing over the binders of several books. Grasping the top of one, she pulled it free of the shelf, making sure the other books didn't fall at the same time. She raised an eyebrow, wiping away the dust that had collected on the cover. It was obvious this place wasn't used a whole lot.

Flipping the book open, Sara glimpsed through the pages as she slowly walked back to the table, sitting down in the plush chair. "You finding anything?" she asked, laying the book down on the table. She glanced up when no response came, frowning.

"Greg?" she called his name twice before he looked up, confusion plastering his face.

"Huh?"

Sara laughed softly, shaking her head as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. "What are you reading?"

Greg grinned, flipping back to the front cover. "100 Fathoms Under, by John Blaine," he read off the title, glancing back up to her. She was watching him with an amused expression on her face. Greg shrugged, "What?"

"Have you figured anything out?" she wondered.

"Of course," Greg said quickly, blushing after a moment. "Okay, maybe not."

She nodded, still amused. "I figured as much." Leaning forward she turned her attention back to her own book, flipping through several more pages. "Greatest crime mysteries," she read off, her finger following the words. Ranting off several names she smiled as she finally came to what she was looking for.

"The Double AA killer; his name derived from his method of killing, using a special form of ammonia to suffocate his victims to death. He would then break the victim's neck; for some time this was disregarded as accidental until technology advanced, and determining that the result of death was from asphyxiation, not from breakage of the neck. The Double AA killer was arrested and tried in the year of 1981; the man held accused, 54 year old Robert Newburn, was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Robert Newburn claimed innocence and escaped three years later. Police were never able to locate him again."

Sara glanced up, frowning as she watched him. "Greg?"

He glanced up quickly, "What?"

"Did you hear any of that?"

Greg shrugged, grinning sheepishly as he closed his book. "Okay, I'll be good, I promise."

"Uh huh," she stated slowly, shaking her head as she read the passage again. Greg was chewing on his lip when she glanced back up, trading looks of contemplation with him.

"So we have an 80 year old killer on our hands?" Greg asked, shrugging, scratching the cloth around his fingers. The bandages had become irritating lately.

"Anything's possible," Sara told him, flipping to the front of the book. "This was published in '90, he could have been found within the last 15 years. I wish they gave a little more description on how he suffocated them though. I mean, no one is just going to sit there and suffocate to death."

"It's possible, but unlikely," Greg considered. "What if…" he grew quiet for a moment thinking. Sara urged him on. "You remember that Danielson case, a few years back? Catherine worked the lead."

"The one that happened in the Luxor?"

Greg nodded, "Yeah, the girl that was suffocated in the pool room."

"One of the hotel staff suffocated her with a towel that was drenched in chloroform. We thought that the chloroform is what originally killed her, but it was the towel. Why?"

"Well, maybe this is the same way. We are assuming that whoever is killing is using ammonia gas, but what if it's liquid?" Greg suggested.

"It can't be," Sara intervened, "they would have died from drowning, not asphyxiation."

Greg held up a hand, "Let me finish," he pleaded, "A liquid would be easier to handle, and hide. Just poor some on a towel, cover the victim's mouth and nose…"

"Until they inhale enough to cause a reaction. The killer wouldn't have to hold the cloth tightly either, give them enough space to breath, but inhaling the fumes would do his work for him."

"We figured that it was a gas because of the cabin incident, but what if that was where he was storing the bottles, and one of the broke open? What if it was all just an accident?"

"Having a body hidden in there though?" Sara wondered, rubbing her head.

Greg shrugged, "Maybe he was planning to move it out later. I don't know, I'm just guessing right now," Greg told her grabbing the book away from her, flipping through it. "It doesn't say anything else in here."

Sara let out a sigh, nodding, "I know, I just wish I knew more." She shook her head, "Stop scratching."

Greg laughed, glancing up at her, "I can't help it, these bandages are driving me crazy. You have any idea what it's like to not be able to move your fingers?"

Sara laughed, watching him. "You drive me crazy, that's got to cut it close."

"I'm not that bad," Greg defended himself, sitting up.

"When you're in a good mood no," Sara stated, closing the book. "Come on, I need a coffee."

"You need more than that," Greg muttered, picking up his own stack.

"I heard that," Sara called over her shoulder as she slid the book back into place. Greg laughed as he followed her suit, the two leaving shortly after. On the way out, Sara stopped to get a cup of coffee, letting Greg know that she would catch up with him shortly.

The owner gave her a smile as she filled the order. "How are you doing?" she asked.

Sara nodded, returning her smile. "I'm doing great, how about you?"

The owner turned back to her, a sympathetic look on her face. "You sure? From what I hear you've had it rough."

Sara let out a sigh, shaking her head. "Things could be better, but hey, I'm alive, right?"

The young lady nodded, she couldn't have been any older than Sara was. Grabbing the cup she handed it off to her after a moment. "It's not that," she nodded off to where Greg was talking with a couple other guys a few feet away. "I heard that he's roughed you up a few different times."

Sara furrowed her brows, frowning. "Where did you hear this?" she asked.

"Is it true?"

Sara shook her head, "No, rumors are rumors. That's all. Who said that he's been hitting me?"

"I just heard the talk, but one guy said that a Detective Neff saw him hitting you."

Sara nodded, her lips pressing together tightly. "I should have guessed," she gave the owner a smile as she picked up her cup. "I thank you for your concern," she told her quietly, "But it is misplaced."

The owner nodded, returning her smile. "I thought as much. Have a nice day."

Sara caught up with Greg who gave her an awkward look. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Sara shook her head, "Nothing, just talk." She wasn't about to tell him Neff was passing along more rumors. It had made her angry enough; she didn't need him fueling her as well. "Let's just go back to the cabin and veg," Sara told him, earning a laugh.

"I told you that you were going to be tired," Greg chided her.

"Can't let you have all the fun," Sara responded, giving him a bright smile. Greg only rolled his eyes as they made their way back.

Stretching, Greg opened his eyes, blinking a few times, trying to shake of the sleepy feeling. Something wasn't right, he realized, sitting up slowly, but he couldn't figure out what. Blinking several more times he swung his legs over the bed, fighting off a yawn as he rubbed his head.

It was quiet, that's what felt so odd, he finally realized. Checking the time on the clock he frowned seeing that it was almost nine in the morning, wondering dully how he could have slept so long. It was then Greg noticed he was alone. Glancing around the abandoned cabin he frowned, getting to his feet.

"Sara?" he called her name, walking towards the kitchen, checking the bathroom as he passed by. He shook his head, snatching a note off the counter. "Went out, be back later," he read. "Went out where," he wondered, trying to remember if she was mad at him for some reason.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" Greg asked, reading the note over again, "I would have come along." He laughed shortly, realizing that he was talking to himself.

"Well, you're never too young to go insane, right?" he asked, crumbling the note in his hand, taking a shot at the garbage can. "Swish," he called out as it went in. He rubbed his head gingerly, shaking it at the same time. "I need to go back to sleep," he laughed, making his way towards the bathroom instead.

By the time he had showered and gotten ready, it was past ten. He left the cabin, locking it before he headed down the steps. Checking the diner and library and finding nothing, Greg spent a better part of an hour walking along the small lake, becoming more and more worried. Sara, it had seemed, had just vanished. A few people he talked to remembered seeing her, but no one could give him a clear answer on where exactly.

Greg let out an exasperated sigh, coming to rest against a tree. Where else could she have gone? He was fairly certain that she wasn't mad at him, but then again who knew? Why else would she just go off like that? He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

"You okay kid?"

Greg glanced up quickly, giving the man a slight shrug. "You haven't seen Sara have you?" he wondered.

Randolph shook his head, "Not since the other day, why? Is something wrong?"

"I hope not," Greg responded, "She left me a note this morning saying that she would be back later, but that's it. I can't find her anywhere."

Randolph gave him a smile, "She's a big girl, I'm sure she can take care of herself."

Greg nodded, laughing as well. "Yeah, I'm sure she can. Just worried…" Greg didn't finish his thought as a slight crashing noise drew both his and Randolph's attention towards the cabin above them.

"That's Jim's cabin," Randolph stated, shaking his head. "Sounds like he's awake."

Greg chuckled. "Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," he commented. His laughter died away as the pair heard a short scream, one that was muffled quickly. "Sara," Greg said quietly, already moving towards the cabin.

TBC…