April was sleeping in - perks of being self-employed - when she woke up to a knife at her throat.
"Where are my sons?" demanded the shadowy figure kneeling on her chest.
For a moment April could not understand the question. It was 10:00 AM and she did not know where anyone's children were.
Then the figure came into focus, led by a long, whiskered snout.
"Master Splinter …?"
To her surprise and alarm, the knife pressed a little closer.
"Where are my sons?"
"I don't know," April said. She tried to pull away from the blade, but Splinter was already pressing her down into the mattress, harder than seemed possible given his size and weight. "I haven't seen them since we dealt with Stockman."
The blade eased off a fraction of an inch, and she realized someone else was in the room - an older woman, standing not far from the bed.
"Who are you?" April asked.
"Wow, ungrateful." The woman took a step forward. "I only paid you professional wages for intern-level work."
April wracked her memory. "Dr. Lamb?"
Dr. Lamb leaned over the bed. "Where's my son, April?"
"I don't know!" April wailed. "I haven't seen him since I stopped working for you!" She closed her eyes, hoping this was all just a nightmare. "Why do all my bosses try to kill me? Good thing you went into self-employment, April. No, wait. Now you'll probably try to commit suicide."
Splinter climbed off her. "She is sincere," he said to Dr. Lamb. "Our apologies, Miss O'Neil," he went on. "Our sons have disappeared, likely together, and we do not know where they could have gone."
"Well, they aren't here," April said. She knew at least three of the Turtles could be very stealthy, but she felt certain she would have noticed four green teenagers in her apartment.
Splinter and Dr. Lamb stood in thought, as though there were no problem with continuing to hang around her bedroom after they had just accosted her in her sleep.
"Raphael mentioned another friend," Splinter said after a moment. "A Mr. Casey Jones. But I do not know where to find him."
"I would try the phone book," said Dr. Lamb, "but talk about a common name."
"I could try to find him," April volunteered. They both looked at her blankly. "I mean, I'm pretty good at the internet."
"It is why I hired her," Dr. Lamb said, when Splinter looked to her for her thoughts. "I mean, sort of, at least."
"Gee, thanks," April said, as she threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. "So fill me in," she went on, as Dr. Lamb and Splinter followed her into the hallway. "What happened to the Turtles, and why do you think I know where they are?"
"Could everyone please stop calling them turtles?" Dr. Lamb asked, but Splinter ignored the comment and began recounting what had happened in the weeks - had it really only been weeks? - since April lost her job with Dr. Stockman.
"With your assistance," he began, "I was able to locate my fourth son. Introducing him to his brothers was… difficult. They have struggled to form a healthy relationship."
"David talked them into giving blood samples," Dr. Lamb explained, "which his doctors then used to tentatively propose a cure for his condition. The other boys knew that was the plan. What they didn't realize was what David wanted a cure for was not just his diabetes, but the whole looking-like-a-big-turtle thing. They weren't too happy when they found out."
Memories of Dr. Lamb and her uniquely blunt style came flooding back as April pulled the phone book out of a kitchen drawer and opened it on the table. It probably wouldn't be enough to find a Mr. Casey Jones, but it would be a good starting point. She was also remembering what she had known about David and his health conditions. Though no one had ever talked about it directly in her presence, it had been obvious that he had some complex medical needs.
"Yes," Splinter said, taking a seat at the table. He seemed put off by Dr. Lamb's way of telling the story, though he was trying not to show it. "We believe that, unsatisfied with the way Dr. Lamb and I have been handling the situation, my sons have taken David to some private place in an effort to resolve their differences themselves. We thought they might have asked you for help in reaching such a place."
"I haven't heard from them at all," April said, turning pages through the J section of the phone book. Jacobs, Johnson, Just - oops, too far - Jones. "Here." She traced a finger down the column, reading off names. "Adam Jones. Arnold Jones. Beatrice Jones. Carl Jones. Cassandra Jones." She paused, checking again, making sure she hadn't missed a listing. "Do you think Ms. Jones goes by 'Casey'?"
Splinter shook his head. "I am certain Raphael said Casey Jones is a man."
"Well, there's no Casey Jones here," April said. She left the phone book lying open on the table, and headed towards her computer in the living room. "Let's try something else."
As her computer started up, it occurred to her that she was in her pajamas, searching public records on behalf of her former employer and a mutant rat, in an attempt to locate four teenagers she barely knew. It further occurred to her that, compared to other events in her life recently, this was not especially strange.
She bent her fingers over the keyboard, launched a web browser, and got to work. "What else do we know about Casey Jones?" she asked.
"I have not met him," Splinter said, "but he lives alone, enjoys spicy food, and is an honorable person."
"How do you know that?" Dr. Lamb asked.
"From his smell," Splinter replied, "and from the fact that my son would not be friends with him otherwise."
"Are you -" Dr. Lamb started, but April interrupted.
"It's important to know that he lives alone. That means any listing should be in his name." She entered another search term in a database. "Are we sure he lives in New York, though?"
"I am not certain," Splinter said. "It is possible that he only visits."
"He could have an unlisted phone number," April continued, almost without listening. "I'm checking property records. Let's see if Mr. Casey Jones owns or rents anything in this city."
She worked at it for a while, almost forgetting her guests in the process. Splinter and Dr. Lamb milled around her apartment, disconcertingly, but less destructively than Leonardo and Michelangelo had.
"I've got nothing," she said, when all her searches came up empty. "Do we have any other leads?"
Dr. Lamb shook her head. April had never seen her look so worried, even when she had a dying animal in her exam room. "We don't know where else they could be." She dug in her bag and held up a cell phone. "We're just hoping they call."
"I hope they will too," said April. "But in the meantime, let me try a few other things."
While Splinter and Dr. Lamb watched, she set up monitoring of police scanners. She hacked into the Sacks shell company and looked for anything suspicious. She hunted down David's online identity and asked his friends if they knew what might have happened to him.
There was no sign of the Turtles anywhere.