-One week later-

It was chaos in the shop. Luggage was packed up and stacked on top of furniture.

'I wish we didn't have to leave the majority of our antiques behind.' Henry grumbled as he lugged down the stairs a final suitcase.

'Me too but it would have taken too long to arrange.' Abe yelled from behind a pile of bags. 'By the way, loving the new hair, Henry!' Henry scowled, running a hand through his now blond hair.

'I hate having to change my appearance whenever we leave.'

'Ahh, give over, Pops. It suits you. Kinda. And you know you have to change your appearance when you get a new ID so the NYPD can't track you, Harold Manith.'

'Haha, Anthony Manith. At least this time it will be easier, just telling everyone you are my father- oh, the taxi is here.' Soon they had all their bags in the back of the taxi, and all too quickly they had arrived at the station. They stored their bags in the storage carriage and found their seats. As the train steamed out of Penn station Abraham sighed,

'I hope the new owner of the store sells the antiques to good people, not just someone who is going to paint it and call it modern.' 'Who did you sell it to in the end? The guy who wanted to make it into a café?'

'Yeah that's the one.' They sat in silence as the train continued its journey to New Orleans.

-The next day-

'Hey, Lucas, you don't know where Henry is, do you?'

'Oh, hey, Jo, um no he didn't come in this morning, I assumed he was at the therapist this morning- he said he had an appointment.'

'Yeah that's what I thought but his therapist called saying he hadn't turned up and had we seen him. I tried calling Abe but he isn't picking up.'

'Um maybe he's sick or something? I mean, he could just be at home or something?'

'Yeah maybe. I'll go see. Thanks Lucas.'

As Jo approached the antique shop she could see the antiques inside were covered by clothes. Weird. She thought. She tried the door but it was locked. Peering through the glass, Jo could see a person moving about, but she couldn't see who it was. When she knocked on the glass, the person turned, walking towards the door, and she could see it wasn't Abraham or Henry.

'Hey, how can I help you?' The man, possibly in his early 50s leaned on the door way.

'I'm detective Martinez,' she flashed her badge. 'Um, I'm just…um who are you?'

'Ben Sanders.'

'Ok, um, Mr Sanders. I was just looking for some people. The people who live here. Henry and Abraham Morgan?'

'Oh, them. Yeah I bought this shop off them, I'm planning on opening a café, and I'm moving in today. Do you know them? 'Cos they left a lot of furniture here which I wasn't expecting.'

'Wait, they sold it? I work with Henry and he didn't mention it.'

'Oh, um I think the old guy said they were moving. Can't remember if he said where, though. I think they left this morning on the train. They said I could move in as soon as I wanted to.'

'Oh, right. Well, thanks for your help, Mr Sanders. I need to get back to work now.' 'No probs, Detective. Glad I could help.'

'Hanson!' Jo shouted as the lift doors opened. 'Hanson, you'll never guess what happened. Henry and Abe have gone. Left. Disappeared. They sold the shop but left all the antiques. It's like they've done a runner!'

'Wait, what? Slow down Jo. How do you know?'

'I talked to the guy who bought their shop. He said he thinks Abe said they were leaving New York by train today.'

'Well go tell Lieu, I'll get the public transport department to tell me what train he and Abe bought tickets for this morning, and we can see where they are headed.'

'Ok, thanks Hanson.'

'Lieu, I need to talk to you.' Jo poked her head into her office.

'Not know Jo I'm busy.'

'It's an emergency, Henry and Abe are gone.'

'Gone where? What do you mean?'

'They have gone, left New York. The sold the shop and apparently left on a train this morning. Hanson's trying to find out where they bought tickets to.'

'Jo, Lieu.' Hanson's head appeared round the door.

'The transport department has no record of tickets being sold to anyone named Henry or Abraham Morgan. What do we do know?'

'Get Mary-Ann to pull up surveillance footage from Penn station. That's where they have most likely caught a train from. Once we have worked out which train they got on we can pull up ID photos of everyone on that train and work out what names they are travelling under.'

'Wait wait wait, go back.' Jo and Hanson had been looking over Mary-Ann's shoulder for almost 30 minutes without seeing anything. Mary-Ann rewound the tape, pausing it. 'There, that guy with the paper. Do you think it could be Abe?'

'I dunno, Jo. Abe has grey hair.'

'Yeah, but think Hanson. If they are doing a runner for whatever reason it makes sense that they would alter their appearances. Play the tape, please, Mary-Ann.' A few minutes passed as they watched the man turning pages of the paper before another, younger man approached him. 'Oh my god. That's Henry, isn't it, Hanson?'

'Looks like him, the long coat and scarf. Blond hair really suits him. Not.' He laughed. 'Ok, so they are waiting on the platform for the 9.15 Crescent service to New Orleans. But they could get off before then, so now we need to get a list and photos of everyone who bought a ticket on that train.'