Mr. Roger's Parking Lot

Turns out there were four missing persons in Walla Walla at the moment. Commonalities included gender, but they seemed to stop there. There were varying ages, races, incomes, etc.…it seemed they were only targeted for being men period, which did not narrow down the search whatsoever. Your wall had come together beautifully, perfectly hidden behind a rack of flannels, tank tops, and a single dress in your closet (a trick Bobby had passed down). You figured the grunt work had been played out and now it was time to move into the field. You double checked the file of the first victim and decided on visiting the last known location; the Country Store Consignment

Entering the building, you were greeted by a kind old man with a little potbelly protruding from his brown knit sweater. "Well hello there miss, my name is Scott Brenerman, how can we help you today?" You smiled before pulling out your badge again. "Hi there, my name is Agent Johnson. I assure you that there is no trouble, just wondering if I can get a look at your security tapes as this was the last known location of Howard Lader."

"Of course ma'am, but I feel I should warn you, the police already did a complete sweep of the place and the tapes and couldn't find a thing."

"I'm sure they were very thorough, but I'm trained to look for certain subtleties that local law enforcement may not see as red flags. I assure you, this is just to cross off some paperwork."

"Of course. If you will just follow me behind the counter here, let's see if I can get that footage for ya." You nodded and followed behind Scott. He took you to a security system that looked like it was from the nineties. Scrolling through each day's footage, it took Scott a while to find the specific one you were looking for. Finally arriving at the correct file, Scott double clicked it and a loading bar appeared. "I feel I must apologize Agent, our gear here isn't the most high tech and this may take a while. Can I interest you in a coffee?" Who was this guy, Mr. Rogers? "Not at all Mr. Brenerman. Patience is in my job description. A coffee would be lovely." He smiled and nodded as he left the room. The bar was at 28% at the moment. This really was going to take a while.

A few moments later, you heard Thunderstruck begin to play and reached in your back pocket to answer your phone. It was an unfamiliar number, but that wasn't uncommon in the hunting community. You greeted the mystery caller who replied, "Yes, hello Agent Johnson, this is Sheriff Jones. There's been a recent development in our case and I really think you oughta come check this out. Meet me in Downtown Walla Walla, I'll leave your name with the perimeter officers." You agreed and hung up the phone. Perimeter officers were never a good sign. You checked the loading bar once more and it was at 36% now. Thinking fast, you pulled a flash drive out of your jacket and plugged it into the machine, dragging the file with it. It loaded onto the drive in seconds.

Scott returned with two mugs. "My apologies Mr. Brenerman just got a call that I need to take. Thank you for your cooperation and hospitality."

"Well, two cups of Joe never hurt anyone I guess. Thanks for stopping by agent." You nodded and exited the building. Walking to your car, you nearly tripped on the small pile of rocks two spots down from your Jeep. Damn old asphalt. Wait… those pebbles weren't asphalt. You bent down to get a closer look. The rocks were clearly a lighter gray with a different consistency. They seemed to almost glow against the skin of your hand. Knowing you had other obligations; you simply pocketed a sample and made the rest of your way to your Jeep.

You arrived downtown and parked your car right next to the area that the police tape surrounded. A disgruntled officer began walking your way, preparing his chastisement of the dumb ass civilian who wanted to see what the fuss was about. Without a word you simply whipped out your badge and the officer understood immediately. "Right this way ma'am." You followed the man up the steps and caught sight of Sheriff Jones. You didn't see any blood or bodies, so that was a good sign. "What seems to be the commotion Sheriff?"

"I think I'd better show you." That raised your suspicions. You were lead inside a storybook looking building to where a group of law enforcement surrounded a single statue.

Hold up.

You took a closer look and your eyes widened. Okay, this was a new one. Upon further examination of the face, you saw that it was a perfect replica statue of Howard Lader. Almost too perfect… The sheriff nudged you out of your thoughts. "What kind of psychopath kidnaps a man and then models a statue after him. There are some sick people in this world." You caught only the first part of his statement, as something didn't quite add up. Given the time table of the initial kidnapping and the appearance of the statue, there was no possible way the assailant had the time to sculpt this essentially flawless rendition of Mr. Lader. That suggested two things; either the psychopath had a partner, or it was something else supernatural entirely. Regardless, this was the signature and your interest was piqued. You stepped in for a closer look. The detail on the sculpture was impeccable, down to the tiny raised bumps where Howard had arm freckles. You stroked the chin of the statue, amazed that the artist even captured the scratchiness of his stubble. The feeling of the rock gave you a sort of sensory familiarity however, and you immediately had an idea. Pulling out the small pebble you had taken from the store parking lot, you held it to the face of the Howard statue. The moment you pressed your sample against the sculpture, the entire thing started to glow…