"Well that was a complete waste of time!" Eliot moaned as he got back into the car and slammed the door, "I told you we should have just skipped the neighbors and the school and gone straight to the bar. No-one was going to tell us anything we didn't already know!"

"And you expect the bar to be any different?" Nate asked quietly, trying not to antagonize Eliot, but wishing he'd get out of this mood he was stuck in.

"You wanna know about a guy like this," Eliot answered as he turned to Nate, "you ask the drinking buddies and bar staff."

"Fine, let's get moving." Nate replied, wishing more and more he hadn't allowed Eliot to take this case.

They rode the short distance to the bar in silence. Nate felt for his colleague and friend and just wished he knew how to help.

Every head turned as the two strangers walked into the local bar. They weren't used to new people around here. Eliot, with his long hair, jeans and cowboy boots, fit in no problem, but in his suit, Nate stood out like a sore thumb. All eyes watched them as they walked to the bar.

"What'll you have?" the bartender asked with a flirtatious smile.

Eliot looked her up and down. On any other day he'd turn on the charm, smile and be more than happy to do whatever was necessary to get the information from her, but today was different. There was too much going on for a break, for a time out, to have some fun on the job. Today, the life of a little girl was at stake, which meant that playful and fun Eliot went out the window.

"We're looking for some information?" he said quietly.

"Sorry buddy," she replied, the smile quickly dropped, "nothing here for you."

"We're looking for information on the Stevens," he added, loud enough for the eagerly listening patrons to overhear.

"If you're a reporter you're wasting your time, nothing to tell here."

"I'm not a reporter and I'm not with social services, just a friend, trying to help."

"Well they don't deserve any help!" a voice added from behind them.

"Yeah, if he didn't kill her, she's better off wherever she is!" another chimed in.

The patrons all started talking over each other, eager to tell the strangers what they knew, how they'd known what was happening, how they'd tried to help. All but one, who was sitting quiet and alone at the end of the bar, drinking his beer and starting, unseeingly, straight ahead, not batting an eyelid at the commotion around him.

"Hey," Nate said, "can I buy you a drink?"

"If you want, but I got nothin' for you," he replied.

"Something tells me you know more that you're letting on," Nate answered as he ordered a drink, "I'm guessing you're Mr. Michaels?"

"How the hell do you know my name?" he turned to look at Nate in surprise.

"You got a look," Nate said quietly, "It's a very distinctive look that says you lost a kid. He was called Stuart, right? Just about three years ago? Police blamed you?"

"How do you know all that?"

"It's what I do," Nate answered with a slight shrug. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"What's the point now?" he asked. "My son is gone, and I'll never get him back now."

"Maybe now, but if the same people who took Cindy Stevens took your son, maybe we can find out what happened."

"I didn't hit my kid."

"Why did the police think you did?"

"Stuart was aggressive; he was always running into things, falling down, fighting with people. There was no controlling him. More than once he went flying into his mom or me, knocked us down with such a force we ended up with cuts and bruising. Julie had to go to the hospital once for a broken rib after he threw a skateboard at her, she had a black eye and other cuts and bruises, and they blamed me."

"Did they never diagnose him with ADHD or something?"

"He was always sweet as pie when he was in the hospital, usually because they were fussing over him."

"So, they assumed it was your fault and didn't look into it any further."

"Yeah."

"Tell me what happened before he disappeared."

"He jumped outta the tree in our backyard right on top of Julie. She's only a tiny little thing, and she fell and hit her head, got a concussion and he broke his arm. Some on-call doc called social services; they were nosing around for a few weeks, then he disappeared."

"Do you remember anyone hanging around in the few weeks or months before that?"

"We're a small town, not a lot of outsiders, only new person in town was that doc, but she was only covering in the hospital for a few weeks and was gone before Stuart was taken."

"Did the police look at her?"

"I dunno, I doubt it, they were sure I'd killed him, just didn't have any evidence to make it stick!"

"Did you notice anything unusual before the Stevens kidnapping?"

"I'm a drunk, I get up, come here, drink till closing, go home and drink till I pass out, get up the next day and do it over again. I don't notice nothing!"

"Thanks for your time, Mr. Michaels," Nate said as he rose from his seat, throwing a few bills on the bar for their drinks and turning to leave.

"Do you really think the same person who took my son took Cindy as well?" he asked, the hope in his voice evident even through the drunken slur.

"I don't know yet, but it's a possibility," Nate replied with a smile. He motioned to Eliot and the pair left.

"Well, you were right," Eliot said, "Waste of time, they all said the same thing, nice guy in school, captain of the football team, lost his scholarship and was forced to marry the head cheerleader when he got her pregnant, beat up on her even then and never changed. They all think he did it." Eliot continued with a sigh, "Maybe you and the police were right all along!" he finished.

'Maybe I'm just too close to this one?' he thought as they walked back to the car.

"Maybe," Nate said quietly, not wanting to get Eliot's hopes up but there was something about Mr. Michaels' story. He seemed much more like a man in pain than an abusive parent.

"Who were you talking to?" Eliot asked.

"The father of the first victim."

"What did he have to say?"

"Same as the Stevens, he didn't do it."

"Did you believe him?"

"I think so, need to check something out first."

Nate pulled out his phone and dialed Hardison, it was just a hunch, but one worth playing through.