Timothy Spataro leaned on the porch rail and watched the car wend its way up the long drive from the highway. The earlier humidity had vanished leaving the air dry and hot. He could feel the dry dust in his mouth as the breeze carried it from where it billowed behind the vehicle, and he spit a dusty glob into the dirt below.

The creases around the eyes on his weathered face looked like they'd been stitched in, dark and ragged in appearance. The car pulled up to the front of the porch and stopped. Timothy watched and waited with interest while the driver did some busy work with a book of some kind and put his hat on before getting out.

"Mr. Spataro? I'm Sheriff Blackwell, from Dempster. You reported that car on the highway the other night?" Barney moved slowly up the steps and out of the sun.

"I did."

"I wonder if we could chat about that a bit?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

"Do you have any idea how long it might have been there before you saw it?"

"Let's sit." Timothy pointed to a peeling rocker and settled himself on an ancient lounge chair covered in bursting upholstery. "Couldn't say for sure. I know it wasn't there at eight 'cause that's when I went out. I was on my way back from a neighbour's when I first saw it."

The rocker creaked dangerously and Barney held both arms just in case. "So then you called it in at . . ." he took out his notebook, surrendering half his grip on safety, "at nine forty-five, and you're sayin' it wasn't there at eight?"

"Thereabouts. Guess I was the only one to stop and have a look."

"Was there any sign of the driver, or anythin' you thought unusual?"

"Only the fact that the engine was runnin'."

Barney looked up sharply. "Runnin'? Did you shut it off?"

"Sure. Don't waste gasoline like that out here, Sheriff."

"So you then locked it with the keys inside?"

"Didn't want to be carryin' them around myself. Owner could at least drive it if he got back."

"But he didn't . . . get back that is." Barney muttered, making more notes and praying the chair didn't collapse. "Was there anything in the car that looked odd? Anything that might suggest what happened to the driver?"

"Did somethin' happen?"

Barney closed his eyes. "That's precisely what I'm tryin' to find out, Mr. Spataro. He didn't come back, so where did he go . . . leavin' his car runnin?"

"Couldn't be far unless somebody picked him up. Other side of the highway behind those trees is nothin' but boggy wasteland and this side is just my farm and Cletis McCord's next to."

"That the neighbour you were visiting?" Timothy nodded as Barney made more notes.

"He's bin ailin'."

"About the car; was there anything inside that--?"

"Nope. Nuthin' I saw. A jacket in the back. A suit jacket like."

Barney nodded. "Yeah. Found that. Nothin' else unusual you can recall? Anything that might help?"

"Went down to the gate by the highway to set out my milk cans for pickup just after ten, there was another car went by like it was chased by the devil."

"Did you see it well enough to describe it? Maybe a licence number?" His question was automatic.

"No licence but it was one of them Japanese cars. Starts with a haich."

"Honda? Hyundai?"

"Who knows? I just seen a haich on the front. It was dark blue or black, and makin' good time."

"Speeding?" Spataro stared at him as if he was dense. He closed his book and looked across the highway. "Bog over there you say."

"Miles of it."

He stood carefully and shook the farmer's hand, thanking him then plodded back down to his car and drove off in another cloud of dust.

****

Barney cursed and tried to balance on a small island clump of grass beside a scratchy pine. He was beginning to regret his decision to poke around a bit instead of organizing a proper search. A mere five or six yards past the tree line the ground began to soften, and he found himself sinking up to the tops of his shoes in dun coloured muck.

The route down from where the car had been found looked promising in the daylight, revealing things that he'd missed in the dark the previous night. There were scuff marks on the edge of the shoulder, and the grass looked broken and flattened in spots, as if something had crawled or been dragged over it.

Now, however, nothing looked promising; his shoes were ruined, and his feet were soaking. He scanned the surface all around his little island and sighed. You couldn't go anywhere in here, the driver must have been picked up he figured, or else if he did get this far he sank right out of sight, in which case he was ruining his shoes and socks for nothing. He turned carefully and began picking his way back to solid ground.

The glint that caught his eye was off to the left, and he lost his balance for a second as he turned to look. Another soaker and a louder curse. He bent down and tried different angles until he caught another quick flash, zeroing in on the area, he stretched a leg across to another clump of grass and bent down, poking at the shiny object, suddenly realizing that it was the dial of a wristwatch.

A little further investigation and an increase in boggy water into his shoes, led him to find that it was attached to a wrist. Barney swore aloud and hauled himself back to his grassy foothold by way of a branch, then finished stepping out of the soggy bog onto the edge of firmer ground by the tree line.

He found another branch and stuck it in the ground to mark the spot, and then he headed back to his car, stamping his muck-covered shoes all the way.

"The Doc says he can be there in maybe an hour, he's doing some work that can't be left." Stella said, when he called in.

"Okay, I'll wait but tell him to hurry as fast as he can. Hey! Tell him to bring some shovels and rubber boots too. And get what's his name at the garage to come along. Gonna need some young muscle for this. Actually, Stan is just up the highway near Hurston. I sent him the to check out accommodations that might match travelling times to our timeline. I could give him a call and get him to come down and wait."

"I know, but you gave him until tomorrow, Barney, remember? He took Belinda along."

"Oh for God's sake, Stella. Why didn't you say something?"

"He doesn't know I know really. Besides, I imagine he's already getting his brow beaten for hiding information about the car you're lookin' into."

"And you know this how?"

"I heard him talking when he invited her."

"Well he better come back with somethin' more useful than a satisfied grin."

Stella laughed into her hand. "I'll keep on the Doc."

He signed off and sat in the car with the door open, his notebook open on his lap, his soggy socks and shoes spread out on the car's hood. Thank goodness for a hot sunny day, he'd need new shoes before this case was done. He read over the times for Edgar's last transmission, the reporting of Shafton's car, and pondered the outside possibility of a connection.

Shafton's car was abandoned between eight and quarter to eleven. Stella's calls to local businesses revealed Shafton booked a motel room at seven-ten. How long he stayed at the motel was unknown yet, so if the drive from the motel to where the car was found took say fifteen or twenty minutes, depending, that left two hours and twenty minutes.

Stella raised Edgar at nine-fifty at the bridge when Barney spoke to him. His next transmission just after ten alerted Stan and Stella and the call to Barney. He'd have to wait for Stan's report before he could begin to see the entire picture.

He tapped his pen on the book page. Why would he think there might be a connection? Maybe this guy just wandered into the bog in the dark to take a leak. Stranger things have happened.

One thing for sure though, he thought, if Shafton shows the same trauma as Edgar he was going to 'need a bigger boat'. Barney liked that quote. When Roy Scheider had said that line in Jaws, he'd laughed and shivered at the same time.

It took the town Doctor, Kenneth Ollcott, nearly two hours to arrive, and Barney was in no mood for the small talk attempted by him and Liam, the young man from the garage. He donned the boots Doc brought, grabbed a shovel and led the way to the spot he'd marked by the bog.