January 21, 2293
Sheila's been gone for about two days. She told me before she left that she had "some business to handle," she fiddled with her PipBoy, and then she disappeared. Right in front of me. Disappeared.
I immediately told Preston and Danse what happened. Danse kindly suggested that I'm malfunctioning, only it wasn't kind and wasn't precisely a suggestion. I resisted the urge to tell him where he could put his suppositions and simply directed my conversation at Preston. One of these days, Danse, one of these days.
"She just… disappeared?" Preston said.
"Maybe she'll be back soon. I would love to hear the explanation," I said.
"She's probably around now," Danse snapped. "I'll go find her."
"There's nothing we can do for the moment," Preston said, a little more nicely. "Er… keep me updated?"
"Will do, chief," I said, realizing that he wasn't completely believing me, either.
It wasn't something I did often, but I ran—literally—back to Diamond City. One foot in front of the other, stopping for no one, taking rare advantage of being a tireless synth. But when I arrived, it was a fruitless journey. I checked in with Ellie briefly—no new cases. For once, I was pleased about that. But then I went to talk to Piper. I asked her if she had come across cases of anyone literally disappearing, as in being there one second and gone the next. She rummaged around her files and raised one up, inviting me to take a look.
Constance Merrit, June 18, 2290. Says she lived alone with her husband Tyler near Jamaica Plain, southwest of Diamond City. Came to the city to live more comfortably after he was taken. Not sure if he was actually kidnapped by Institute or if he just died. She *claims* he was standing next to her in front of a tato plant, showing her where some large bites on the leaves suggested bloatflies had been by, and then suddenly he wasn't. He wasn't there. She claims he just disappeared completely, right in front of her. This is the clearest case of Institute kidnapping there's ever been. Or this is the saddest case of a woman who can't admit that her husband died. Or it's the most unnerving case of a woman snapping—hell, I have no proof that Tyler ever existed. I want to believe her, but nobody else has ever seen someone just disappear like that, and if the Institute has that kind of power, then really nobody is safe. Hell, if the Institute could do that, I'm sure I'd have been a goner by now. So I thanked Constance, wrote this up for my files, and left it out of Publick Occurrences. For now, anyway. I have some real leads I need to track.
I looked up at Piper. "I want to talk to Constance," I said. She looked surprised, then shook her head.
"Died," she said. "Last year."
And so ended the one witness that might've been a lead on disappearing people. With Piper's help, I went down and found where Constance had slept in the city—but her things had already been picked over and were gone. I then ran to Jamaica Plain and did a perimeter sweep, finding two likely-looking houses where a couple might have lived in reasonable safety for some time. Nothing useful in either location—nothing even enough to pin down which of them might've had Constance and Tyler. If Tyler existed.
Defeated, I ran back to the Castle, hoping that Sheila had returned and all was well. Danse accosted me immediately.
"Where did you take her, you son of a—"
"Nice to see you, too, Danse." Preston walked over and, as usual, I addressed him without looking at Danse. "I've been trying to find other instances of someone disappearing in front of someone else. Found one, but it didn't pan out."
"There's been no sign of her here," Preston admitted grimly.
"One of two things is true," I said. "Either she was taken against her will or she was taken *by* her will. She's been working for the Institute—"
"Lies!" Danse yelled. "You've taken her somewhere and now you're trying to besmirch her good name—"
I had finally had enough.
"Danse," I said, "time to grow up and act like an actual paladin. You don't like me because I'm a synth and you hate synths. I get that. The whole Commonwealth gets it. They've probably heard about it in the Capital Wasteland. I've let it go. But now you're throwing temper tantrums like a child, you're hurling accusations at the person who brought this problem to your attention, and it's time for you to consider that maybe you aren't the only synth in the world who's one of the good guys. I was a cop before the war. Why I woke up a synth, I don't know. I'll probably never know. But I'm the same guy I was then, and you. You need to lay off me, set your hate aside, and work with me on behalf of the person we both care about. Cappesh?"
Danse was about to retort when Preston put a hand on his shoulder. He had to reach up to do it, and Preston isn't short. "Nick's right, Danse. He's right. Rules can have more than one exception."
"Sheila is not working for the Institute. She's still Brotherhood."
I closed my eyes. "The Institute has Shaun, Danse."
He looked at me. "She thought that, but—"
"She knows. The Institute has him. She's seen him. She's talked to him." I hoped she'd forgive me for revealing this secret.
"Then we need to rescue him! She's found a way in?" Whatever else Danse is, he's a man of action.
"I think that's where she went when she disappeared," I explained. "What I don't know is if she went of her own accord or if they just… tapped her. Took her."
Preston looked away, thinking. Then, he spoke. I think Danse and I have a tacit agreement that Preston is in charge when Sheila's gone. Probably being at the Castle has something to do with it. "Then we wait for her. We give her a week. If she's not back in a week, we can assume she's not coming back and we'll need to find our own way into the Institute to rescue her. Nick… That's probably going to be on you. It's a detective's job."
"I think the Railroad may be able to help," I said. "I'll set out tomorrow to ask them."
From Danse's expression, he didn't like the Railroad any more than he liked me, but he bit back his insults and nodded curtly. That's the best I was going to get from him.