"Ask him if he'd been questioned by the police," Mike said. "Ask him if he'd ever been considered a suspect."

"Do you know who else in town was interviewed by the police during the investigation?" Ian said.

George shrugged. "Well, I was," he said. "You know, being the Little League coach I had access to one of those boys. Didn't know the other ones."

"If you don't mind me asking," Ian continued, "why weren't you considered a suspect?"

"Well, except for the times I'd take off for Little League, I was always here at the store," George said. "That's the problem with owning a store, it actually owns you. I was always here when those boys went missing."

"They could pin down when the boys went missing?" Ian asked. "I hadn't realized things were so exact."

Shaking his head, George explained. "No, they basically took the times the boys left their homes and the times they were supposed to have returned and figured the crime took place sometime between those two points of time," he said. "Yeah, it could have happened later, and one of the boys could have been running late. But, for the most part, the police figured it happened then."

"That makes sense," Ian said. "Were most of these times during the day?"

"Yeah, that was the weird thing," George replied. "All of the boys went missing in the middle of the day. No early morning or late night disappearances. They were all s.n.a.t.c.hed right out from under our noses."

"Did you have any ideas about suspects?" Ian asked, "back when it was happening?"

George shook his head. "No, I might have had some thoughts," he said. "But that was a long time ago and I sure don't want to name any names."

"Aye, well that's understandable," he replied. "Thank you for your time."

Ian left the hardware store and walked up the street toward the butcher shop, the workplace of the next suspect. He took his time, looking at the windows of the other quaint downtown shops.

Finally, Mike appeared next to him. "So, what did you learn?" Ian asked.

"Well, he called Uncle Chuck and asked him what he knew about an ongoing investigation," Mike said. "I have a feeling we're going to have company soon."

Ian smiled and increased his pace. "Well, then, I suppose we ought to hurry."

Chapter Thirty-nine.

Mary and Bradley took the stairs down to the first floor of the County Building.

"I need to stop in and see Linda," she said. "How about dinner at my place and we can all compare notes?"

He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. "You plan the most romantic evenings," he said. "I'll be over about six."

"Perfect."

Mary walked down to the end of the hall and the County Clerk's Office. Linda was in her office going through some paperwork. Mary knocked on her door and Linda motioned for her to come in.

"Hi, how are the wedding plans coming along?" she asked, sitting in the chair across from Linda.

Linda shook her head. "I had no idea there was so much to do," she said. "I am so grateful for Rosie. She is simply amazing."

Nodding, Mary laughed. "Yes, she is and a little overwhelming."

"I agree," Linda said. "I don't think I ever made so many decisions in my life."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked.

"Well, now that you volunteered," Linda said with a smile. "I really need some help tomorrow putting together some centerpieces and silk bouquets. Rosie is bringing all of the materials."

"I'm going with Bradley to Sycamore tomorrow morning," Mary said, referring to Jeannine's memorial service. "But we should be home in the afternoon."

"That will be fine," Linda replied. "We can use all the help we can get."

Mary looked down at her hands and laughed. "Well, these hands are generally better suited at holding a gun and applying handcuffs, but if you show me what to do, I can try."

Linda paused, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment. "Would you mind if we met at your place?" she asked.

Mary thought about it for a moment and reluctantly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Linda," she said. "Bradley, Ian and I are working on a case, and I know they're going to have sensitive information spread out all over the place. It just won't work."

Linda took a deep breath. "Well, you know, this is my wedding and it's my house," she said with determination. "There is no reason I should be afraid of using my house to prepare for my wedding. My parents are just going to have to get used to the idea."

"Are you sure?" Mary asked. "I suppose we could use my office."

Linda shook her head. "No, Mary, I was wrong to ask to use your house. I need to stand up to my stepfather. Let's meet at my house at one, okay?"

"That will be great," Mary said.

She stood up, walked around the desk and gave Linda a hug. "Good for you," she whispered.

Towards the end of the day, Mary was sitting in her office at her desk. Her laptop was open and she was typing notes from the case file with one hand while she munched on some almonds with the other. The phone rang and she reached over and picked it up. "O'Reilly," she answered absently, still reading the file.

"Mary, is that you?" the male voice on the other side asked. "This is Harold, Harold Weller."

Mary shook her head, remembering the young man from DCFS in Chicago who she called to ask for information about Bradley's missing daughter. "Harold. Oh! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get back to you," he said. "We had a hard time finding the file."

"Harold, before you say anything," Mary interrupted, remembering Ian's words. "I don't want you to tell me anything or say anything that would jeopardize your job."

"No, no," he said. "I wouldn't... couldn't do that. It could get both of us in trouble. But, this is something I can tell you, and I thought it was pretty interesting. The reason I couldn't find the file was because it wasn't in the archives. Someone pulled it out last year, requesting that the information to be unsealed."

"What? Who?" Mary asked.

"Okay, well, I'm really not supposed to tell you this," he said. "But considering the child was not his birth daughter, I think I have a case for divulging his information. He's a dentist from Sycamore, Dr. Gary Copper."

For a moment, Mary couldn't breathe. She felt her office closing in around her and felt her heart begin to race.

"Mary. Mary, are you there?" Harold called into the phone.

Mary took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "Yes, I'm here," she stammered. "Thank you so much for the information, Harold. You don't know how important this is."

"Well, Mary I'm glad I could help," he said.

"I'm sorry, Harold," she said, cutting him off. "But I have to go. Good-bye."

She hung up the phone, wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slowly back and forth in her chair, forcing herself to take deep calming breaths. She still felt like the walls were closing in around her, so she grabbed her coat and hurried out of the office.

The cool air hit her face like a splash of cold water and she inhaled sharply. Picking up her pace, she kept her eyes down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. She hurried to the end of the block and turned right, walking down a less traveled side street. Her pace increased and she was nearly running when she finally found herself in front of the abandoned gym. She grabbed the door k.n.o.b, rattling it in her hands as she slipped the key Ernie had given her into the lock. Finally, it opened and she hurried inside, closing herself in and the outside world away.

She backed away from the door slowly, her breathing becoming less agitated. Her high heels clicked against the wooden floor and echoed throughout the big room. She made her way over to the boxing ring and climbed through the ropes. In the far corner was a foldable round metal stool. She made her way over to it and sat down. From this vantage point, she could see the entire gym, every entrance, every window and, for a moment, she felt secure.

"Hey, sister, what's wrong?" Ernie appeared next to her.

Mary cried out and covered her face defensively. "No, please," she whimpered.

Ernie bent down next to her chair. "Hey, take it easy. I ain't gonna hurt you," he said softly. "Remember, it's Ernie."

She lowered her arms and took a deep breath. "Ernie," she said. "Sorry, I guess you startled me."

"Like h.e.l.l I did," he said a little louder, standing up next to her and folding his arms across his barrel chest. "What happened to you, sister? What's got you so tied up?"

She reached up and pushed her hair back, her hand shaking in the process. "Nothing," she lied, quickly clasping her hands together on her lap.

"I may be dead, but I ain't blind or stupid," he said. "You gonna tell old Ernie, or am I going have to go get the crazy Scotsman to come over here?"

"No, no, don't get Ian," she said, "he's got enough to do."

"Okay, then spill the beans."

She looked up to the ceiling and stared at the old skylight. The gla.s.s looked like it had been covered with tar paper, but there were still a few places where the sunlight had been able to penetrate and beams shone down into the dim building. For some reason, those narrow beams of light gave her hope.

"Last month I was working on a case," she said, turning to Ernie, "with a ghost who had been murdered."

"You got a thing about dead people?" he asked.

She was surprised to feel the edges of her mouth turn up. "Yeah, I guess I do," she replied. "Anyway, this woman was held as a prisoner, raped a number of times and finally died. But she couldn't remember anything about the man or the circ.u.mstances surrounding the incident. She'd blocked it out."

"Yeah, I heard about guys coming back from the war that did that," he said. "It was still part of them, but somehow their minds locked it away somewhere."

She nodded. "Exactly. And the only way to get that information from her was to hypnotize her and have her live through it again."

"How the h.e.l.l do you hypnotize a ghost?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "You find a human who's willing to let the ghost borrow her body for a little while," she said.

"So, while she was in your body, she relived what happened to her," he said. "And you got to live through it for the first time."

Mary nodded. "It's weird; I'm a rape victim who's never been raped. But, I still have some of the same reactions they would have after they have become victims."

"Yeah, and there's the difference, sister," he said.

"What difference?"

"Sister, you ain't a victim. You're a warrior," he said. "You just need to remember that."

"But..."

"Listen, I've been in and around the boxing ring all my life," he said, gazing around. "I've seen losers, I've seen weaklings, I've seen winners and I've seen warriors. You got the heart of a warrior. You just have to remember that all over again. You have to remember that you were experiencing another person's reaction to a situation, not your own."

Mary realized her heart wasn't racing anymore and her breathing was back to normal. She extended her hand and saw it was steady. Ernie watched her and grinned. "What did I tell you?" he said. "Ernie is never wrong."

"Thanks, Ernie," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, you show me how much you appreciate it when you show up tomorrow morning."

"Really? On the weekend?"

He laughed deeply and shook his head. "Okay, I'll see you on Monday, sister."

"Thanks Ernie, see you then."

He faded away. Mary stood up and looked around the ring. Walking to the middle, she lifted her arms into a fighting stance and danced around in her high heels, jabbing and feinting, as she moved in a small circle.

"Hey, no heels on the canvas, sister," Ernie's voice echoed through the gym. "If you want to go a few rounds, slip those shoes off."

"Sorry, Ernie," Mary called, tiptoeing to the edge of the ring and climbing out. "See you Monday."

She let herself out of the gym and walked back towards her office, a bounce in her step. The first stop, when she got back to her desk, was her computer's media player. She found the selection she wanted, increased the volume to ten and played Survivor's Eye of The Tiger. She sat at her desk, moving to the beat of the song. Soon, the toe tapping became ch.o.r.eography and she was moving around the desk doing her best impression of 80's dance moves. Finally, she couldn't resist. Grabbing a Sharpie from her desktop for a microphone, she belted out her version of the lyrics, "Risin' up, straight to the top. Had the guts, got the glory. Went the distance, now I'm not gonna stop. Just a woman and her will to survive."

She held the final note, feeling pretty good about her vocal abilities, but went silent when she heard a crash behind her office in the alley.

"d.a.m.n cats," she heard Stanley yell out. "I don't know where you are, but keep yer caterwauling away from the back of my building."

Reaching over, she quickly turned off her music and dropped the Sharpie on her desk. "Okay, I guess I won't be auditioning for American Idol."

Chapter Forty.