Halcyon Days, Chapter Two.

Halcyon Days

ii. Truth Be Told...

"All right, can you repeat that for my report? From the date of departure, if you will, go over it again for me, Sam." The officer, trying not to show the confusion and disbelief on his face, put pen to legal pad and wrote down the basic information at the top of the page, then waited to hear it all again.

Honestly, if the one telling this story wasn't Sam Reese, wasn't the kid they all knew was the most trustworthy young man in the country, he wouldn't believe a word of it. But let the commissioner figure out whether to inquire further - he was only a grunt on the force. He wrote down what he heard.

"All right, so on the night I disappeared - I was patrolling the summer vacation homes district at about eleven p.m. and spotted a suspiciously parked white service van, unmarked. There look to be an illegal tint on the windows; I couldn't see inside. I went to call it in, and found my equipment unable to connect. Same for my cell phone. I was about to run for the nearest occupied house two blocks over and borrow a landline, but I heard the sounds of footsteps and arguing, and the van turned on.

"I hid out of the likely line of sight in case they were armed - burglars, I thought - but they must have spotted me through the bushes. Someone came up behind me and had be in a headlock. I fought him off, stood up, and demanded they put their hands up for citizen's arrest. That was when I found out they were FBI, I had badges shoved in my face." Sam laughed.

"After that rocky start, I got roped into their drug investigation because they couldn't have any outside witnesses, and instead of just dumping me at a safehouse they thought I might be useful. Six months later the investigation is finally, finally done, and I was able to come home, with a sizable chunk of money locked away for me in a bank at Cincinnati for my trouble, and more to come as long as I don't disclose anything, even to the police, until it's declassified in thirty-odd years."

"Anything else you can tell me? Maybe the name of someone high in the rank in the group, or the exact wording of the non-disclosure agreement?"

"No comment," said Sam, which was an answer in itself. "Sorry," he added, with a sheepish grin. "Wish I could've told you all I'd be back."

Delilah sighed. "Thanks for coming over, Mister Jacob. I'm sure they'll send the department some kind of letter explaining all this. Would you like to stay for afternoon coffee?" She'd started a pot in the machine just a moment prior; it sizzled loudly as she turned back toward the table.

Jacob Westing smiled politely, tipped his hat, and answered, "Thank you, ma'am, bu I'll be called back to the office soon. Welcome back, Sam. Good to see you again."

It was only as he drove back to the police headquarters that Westing realized: Sam had said nothing about the detective who went missing during the search. There was no indication of what befell John Cotter.