I shall write as soon as I can make further inquiries. I remain your devoted servant.

Sincerely yours, Jeremiah Hoglesby.

Private Detective for Hire.

Ten.

Noah rolled back over toward the clock, hoping the hands had moved more than five minutes, which was all they had moved the last two times he'd checked. He finally decided he should end this misery and get up. The time was a quarter till four, and he swore silently to himself. This just wasn't working. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Getting up, he pulled on his pants, lit the lantern, and looked scornfully at the bed. The sheets and quilt were in a rumpled ball hanging precariously off one end. The floor around the bed was strewn with clothes, and when his gaze reached the kitchen, his frown turned to a scowl. Unwashed dishes were piled up in three pails, large portions of uneaten, dried food sticking to them. Tools were lying around pell-mell wherever he had last used them. The wooden floor was no longer a golden honey color, but muddy brown. Books were everywhere, taken down for a momentary distraction and then tossed to the floor or on the growing piles on the sofa when that hadn't worked. His cabin was a disaster! Never in his life had he let things go like this. Where was the discipline that he'd honed to a science? What was wrong with him?

Swinging around, he stalked to the washstand and plunged his fingers into the bowl to splash his face. His fingertips. .h.i.t the thin layer of solid ice on the bottom and he growled in frustration. He hadn't filled the bowl from his fresh water barrel before going to bed, so the leftover had just frozen up, being so shallow. He gripped the edges of the bowl in frustration. He felt like slugging something. He'd hit the wall if his fingers weren't already throbbing. Looking up into the oval mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself in the lantern light. There was a month's growth of beard on his face. He'd worn a beard before, but it had never looked this shabby. There were bags under his bloodshot eyes and his hair was longer than it had ever been. He didn't think he had ever looked worse. Heck, he was starting to look like an old sourdough. When he thought of what a well-weathered Alaskan (a.k.a. a sourdough) looked like, he almost laughed, but he decided to scowl at himself instead. It better suited his mood.

Walking over to the window, he tugged rather ruthlessly at his beard and sighed. He knew what was causing the problem, and working himself to exhaustion each day was no longer helping. It had barely been a month since his last visit, but he missed her. Just the thought of her face filled him with longing. The icicles were even now dripping from his roof. Spring was just around the corner. If he waited a little longer, just a couple of weeks, the next time he made the trip he could bring her home.

Shrugging into his coat, he spent five minutes looking for his ax and finding it, headed out into the darkness. He gave the enormous woodpile, stacked to the roof around two walls of his cabin, a rebellious glare. So he already had enough wood to last months. He would chop more. The grueling physical labor was his only hope for sleep later. He wouldn't stop until every tree on his property was cut down if need be. Swinging the ax to his shoulder, he trudged into the woods.

Two hours later Noah had worked off enough steam to go back to the cabin. If nothing else, he knew he had to take care of the animals. After gathering up the supplies and food, he made it to the barn, congratulating himself that he hadn't thought of her since he'd left the cabin that morning. He shook his head at himself as he watched the dogs wolf down their meat. He was thinking about her again. Nothing worked for very long. Sitting down among his sled dogs, Noah took some comfort in their rambunctious presence.

It hadn't been too bad when he'd first come back. Jacko had still been there, and he had hung around for a few more days, teasing Noah unmercifully about Elizabeth but keeping the loneliness at bay. Once Jacko was gone, a heaviness had settled over him. Noah had never felt so lonely in all his life, and he'd been alone for so long. He just couldn't figure it out. She had only been with him a few weeks, and yet in that time she'd destroyed his life. Yep, that's what she had done all right, destroyed the peace and the disciplined routine that he had prided himself on. With sudden insight, he realized he had thought himself better somehow than other men who weren't complete without a woman. He'd wanted a wife someday, but he hadn't ever really needed one before. Sitting on the floor with his knees up, he dropped his head onto his arms and faced the truth. Now, G.o.d help him, now he couldn't even eat for thinking about her. He wanted her in every way a friend a lover a soul mate. It was an ache that wouldn't go away and gnawed at him every waking moment. He prayed, he ranted to G.o.d, but G.o.d had been strangely quiet. So what was he going to do about it? He couldn't go on like this. A man couldn't live on chopping wood for the rest of his life. Confound that woman, she'd ruined him. She had broken him into little pieces of clay, and she wasn't even around to appreciate her handiwork. Shelby licked him on the top of his head, causing Noah to look up and rub his lead dog's face affectionately.

"What should I do, girl?"

Shelby just stared at him with her pretty blue eyes.

"Well, I can't go on like this," he said. "I need to see her." He didn't understand the hold Elizabeth had over him, but he finally recognized that he wanted her home with hima"for good.

Once the decision was made, Noah felt like a load had been lifted off his shoulders. He once again had purpose, meaning, and energy poured through him. Later today he would take the goat and dogs to his nearest neighbors, a Tlingit camp, for safekeeping. Then he would pack up his meager stack of furs and light out for Juneau in the morning. Now to clean the cabin. He might just be bringing his woman home, and the place had to be spotless.

IN THE DARK quiet of her room, Elizabeth folded the notes carefully and laid them on her pillow. They were brief, saying only that she had to leave, without any real explanation. If there was one thing she really regretted, it was having to depart before the baby was born. She owed Will and Cara so much more than that. It saddened her to have to leave just when they needed her most. Sighing, she scooped up the bedroll stuffed with her belongings and crept quietly toward the door.

She had pleaded a headache after slipping out to find her errand boy and had remained in her room the rest of the evening. Cara, thoughtful and kind as always, had brought up a tray with her dinner and inquired as to how she was doing. Elizabeth knew Will probably told her about the strange incident with Ross, but she'd successfully convinced her that she just wasn't feeling well, or so she hoped. When Cara left, Elizabeth had written the notes and quietly worked on getting herself ready to leave. If her plan worked as expected, she hoped to be on her way out of Juneau by early morning. Good 'ol Charlie had better come through, she thought.

Creeping down the stairs, she silently made her way to the wide wooden counter where she lit a lone candle in a decorative pewter candlestick. Softly, she let her stuffed bedroll slide to the floor and ducked under the bar flap to get behind the counter. She would need all the tools of her trade, and she was in the right place to get them. She pulled out a common list of miners' supplies and scanned it. It was a staggering lista"warm clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, hats, boots, mittens, and gloves. Then there was the fooda"pounds and pounds of beans, bacon, flour, oats, corn meal, tea, coffee, sugar, salt, and on and on. And that wasn't even taking into consideration all the metal tools she would need. Elizabeth sighed heavily. She wouldn't make it three feet with such a load. To cross over the Canadian border, miners were required to bring enough supplies to last a year. Some said a ton of provisions. The edict prevented thousands from dying of starvation when they became locked in for the winter with little to no fresh supplies coming in. But now was not the time to buy supplies like that. She would buy the additional supplies later, when she was closer to the Canadian border. For now, she would just have to take as much of the list as she could. She reached up on a shelf and took down a brown canvas pack. Quickly, and as quietly as possible with the metal pieces clanking together, she filled her bag with a gold pan, pick, hammer, moose-skin pouch (to hold the gold), beans, salt pork, sugar, coffee, tea, flour, rice, baking powder, salt, candles, matches, a canteen, medicines such as morphine and calomel, soap, and toiletries. Walking to the other end of the counter, she picked out the warmest blanket she could find, a highly prized Chilkat blanket of mountain-goat wool and cedar bark made by the Tlingit Indians. It would cost her extra, but she knew it would keep her warm during the cool spring nights ahead. Chewing on the inside of her lip in concentration, she added some tobacco and corn whiskey, which would be valuable for trade and didn't take up much room.

"Elizabeth? What on earth are you doing?"

She jumped, hitting her head on the inside of a shelf.

Turning swiftly, Elizabeth gasped to see Cara at the bottom of the stairs looking at her in innocent confusion. She didn't know what to say. How could she lie outright to Cara? What could she possibly say to explain her actions? They were obvious enough.

Cara seemed to come to the same conclusion in the ensuing silence. "Are you a leaving us?"

There was alarm and even hurt in her voice. Oh, why did she have to be so kind and make this so hard? Why couldn't she be evil and mean and heartless like Margaret?

Elizabeth gazed into the kind eyes and nearly blurted out the entire tale, but she stopped herself. Looking down at the mining equipment in her hands, she shrugged and said as carelessly as she could manage, "I've been bored lately. I didn't want to tell you and Will because I knew you would only try and talk me out of it, but I've decided it's time to move on. I have gold fever real bad, Cara, and if I don't go soon, there won't be any left." The words rang falsely in her own ears, but she looked almost desperately at Cara, hoping she would accept them.

"I see." She obviously didn't see. Elizabeth watched her stand there and struggle with a myriad of emotions. "I suppose I should be glad this child gets me up in the middle of the night as it does," she said softly, her hand gliding over her rounded stomach, and then her words trailed off into a little sob as she continued, "or I wouldn't have even gotten to say goodbye." She tried to hold back the cry with the back of her hand.

Elizabeth couldn't bear to see her like this and rushed over to her, straight into Cara's arms, tears forming in her own eyes. "Oh, Cara, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't bear to say goodbye. I can hardly endure leaving at all."

Cara gripped her by the shoulders with surprising strength and leaned back to look directly into her eyes. "Why must you go? Something's happened, I know it has. Something to do with that man who upset you yesterday. Please, Elizabeth, whatever it is, tell me. Let us help you."

Elizabeth pulled away and walked over to the counter, distancing herself from the temptation. She placed her clasped hands on the counter and leaned over them for a moment, wavering. "I can only tell you that I have to go. I can't tell you where or why." Turning toward Cara, she pleaded, "Please, if you really care about me, you'll pretend you didn't see this. You have to let me leave, Cara."

"What about Noah? I know you love him. Are you just going to just walk away and never see him again?"

Elizabeth felt her words, knew them as truth, knew them for the monumental choice they represented. Cara wasn't going to make this easy, proving once again how much she cared. Walking back over to her best friend, Elizabeth clasped her hands and said softly, with as much sincerity as she could force into her voice, "Noah is a good man, Cara, and he has done a lot for me. I'm in his debt, yes, and I feel grat.i.tude and affection for him. But a" She swallowed, making her final decision in that moment. "I don't love him and nothing can ever come of it."

She squeezed Cara's hands momentarily, "I left two notes on my pillow, one for you and Will and one for Noah. Please, I'm begging you to go back to bed and forget you saw me here tonight. Find those notes in the morning, as late as possible, and give me time to leave. I don't want anyone following me."

"You ask a great deal. How do I know that you are doing what is best for you?"

Cara was almost in tears again and Elizabeth hugged her briefly.

"You don't. But you have to believe that if there was another way, I would take it. I'll be safe, I promise. Please a let me go."

After a tense moment, Elizabeth could feel Cara nod against her shoulder. She almost broke down completely when Cara lifted her head and said, "At least let me help you pack."

They finished the job silently together, Cara giving all that Elizabeth would take and refusing the money Elizabeth had planned to leave for the supplies. She embraced Elizabeth fiercely and then helped her into her coat. Cara's parting words were ones that Elizabeth knew she would always remember and cherish. "You are welcome back here anytime, no matter what. I love you, my dearest girl."

Elizabeth turned and stumbled out into the cold, dark night, forcing her reluctant feet to keep moving. Gathering the tattered shreds of her resolve, she hoisted her pack over her shoulder and trudged through slushy snow toward the Hawk Eye Saloon, where she thought to find Charlie McKay.

Working at the post had been the best place Elizabeth could have chosen to find out the latest happenings of the community. After filling an extensive order for Charlie this afternoon, he had rambled about his most recent job. Charlie, as she had discovered, was a guide for hire and even a packer when needed. A packer's job was more strenuous than any other Elizabeth could imagine. The Chilkoot Pa.s.s, one of the only routes over the mountains and into the Yukon Territory, was impossible for dogs or horses to navigate in most weather. Many of the Indians and men like Charlie would hire out their backs to haul, in several trips, the miner's provisions to the top of the pa.s.s. Further down the trail, along the banks of the Yukon River, entire Indian families worked for pennies per pound packing supplies down the trails for those who chose to portage their supplies instead of risk the rapids.

Charlie had mentioned that a group of four men had hired him to take them as far as the Chilkoot Pa.s.s, where he would stay and help pack their provisions over the mountain. Once safely over the worst of a very dangerous and oftentimes deadly mountain pa.s.s, Charlie would collect his pay and set up temporary residence in Sheep Camp, where he would pack other miners' supplies over the pa.s.s. Back and forth, up and over that mountain again and again. Elizabeth couldn't understand why someone would want to travel all that way, with all the hardships of the trail, never to mine for gold. But she supposed, as Jacko had said, there was more than one way to get rich. Packing just seemed one of the hardest.

Finally, she came to the rough, plank back door of the saloon. Music and the mixed sounds of feminine squealing and deeper male voices could be heard clearly. Elizabeth was no stranger to saloons. She had lived in too many boomtowns to be shocked by very much and had been pulled along with Margaret many times when searching for Henry. She knew that if she acted like a lady, for the most part, she would be treated as one. And besides, she knew most everyone in town. She just hoped someone would hear her banging at the back door. Going into the actual saloon wasn't part of the plan. The fewer people who saw her and learned she was leaving town, the better. It didn't take long before the door swung wide and John Kingly, the owner and barkeep, opened the door with a scowl on his face.

"Who the a Miss Smith? That you?"

Elizabeth stepped quickly into the dimly lit back room. "Yes, Mr. Kingly, it's me."

"Is the baby comin'? If you're looking for one of the docs, they aren't here."

"No, no, it's not the baby. I'm looking for Charlie McKay. We weren't able to finish some business at the post, and I was hoping to find him here."

John looked slightly perplexed, but shrugged and said, "Yeah, Charlie's here. You want me to go and get him?"

"Please, and Mr. Kingly, don't let anyone overhear you telling him who it is, if you please. I wouldn't be here like this if it weren't necessary, but I'm sure you understand that I wouldn't like it to get around." She raised her eyebrows, waiting for comprehension.

He looked around for a moment and then nodded. "Oh, yeah, I see what ya mean. I'll keep it real quiet."

"Thank you, Mr. Kingly. I'll just wait right here." She walked over to a tall stool in the storeroom and perched on the edge.

It wasn't but a half minute before Charlie bungled his way into the room. Elizabeth smoothed back the smile that rose to her lips. Charlie was well into his cups and hopefully that would work to her good. Rising, she met him halfway into the room.

"Why, Miss Smith. What a surprise this is!" He shook his head for a minute as if to clear it and then asked, "What you be wantin' with me at an hour like this, and you coming to a saloon? Something happen at the post?"

Elizabeth led him over to the stool as she said all syrupy and sweet, "Why, Mr. McKay, I can't believe you've forgotten already. Didn't you say that if I had trouble I could count on you?"

"Well, course, ma'am, but I didn't expect you to have trouble so soon. What's the problem?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. If she could get through this next part, she would be well on her way out of Juneau. "Charlie a may I call you that?"

At his distracted nod, she continued, "Do you remember that polished, rather well-groomed looking man at the post yesterday?"

"That peac.o.c.k? Why, sure I do." He slapped his thigh in an aggrieved way. "He upset you, I know he did, and so did everyone else in the post watchin' him. He's a no-account, slick weasel, if you ask me, Miss Smith. I'd watch out for that one, yes siree a whya""

Elizabeth interrupted. "You're absolutely right, Charlie. You must be an excellent judge of character to have picked up on that so soon. You see, he's a distant relative of mine and he's trying to convince mea"rather persuasively and by force, I'm afraida"to go back with him to Seattle. Charlie, I must tell you, I have gold fever. I only planned to work at the post until spring, till I could join up with a group and go out to the Klondike like everyone else. Charlie, I can't leave Alaska!"

"You? Go to the gold fields in the Yukon? Why, Miss Smith, men twice your size and age tremble at tackling that trail. Only the best and hardiest make it to the Klondike."

His alarm seemed to be having a sobering effect on the big man. Gazing around, Elizabeth spotted a half-full bottle of whiskey on a shelf and brought it over to him as if he'd just asked her for it. "I understand all that, Charlie. But, you see, I have something that makes up for my lack of size: experience. I've been mining since I was fourteen. I know how to pan and work a sluice or a rocker with the best of them. I'll admit that the journey might be a little hard on me, which is why I came to you. I knew if anyone could get me through that pa.s.s and away from that horrid man, it would be you. You know the kind of man he is; he wouldn't have the courage to follow me on a trail like this one. Won't you let me join your group heading out tomorrow? I'm packed and ready."

Charlie took a long swallow from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared off into s.p.a.ce for a moment, seeming deep in thought. Finally, Elizabeth tried to regain his attention. "Charlie?"

"Huh?" He jerked around and looked at her strangely for a moment. Then finally he nodded his s.h.a.ggy head. "If you're bent on going, I guess I'd be better than most to see that you get there in one piece. You'll have to pay the same as the others, though, or there'll be trouble with the men. They ain't gonna like having a woman join the group."

"Of course I'll pay you." Reaching into her pocket, she took out the necessary bills and handed them to him. He reached awkwardly for the money and rose from the stool. "Meet us in front of the saloon at six sharp."

Elizabeth gazed at his departing back, feeling excitement mingle with fear at her success. Now to find a place to sleep. Glancing around, she spotted a hammock hanging in the corner and climbed into it. It would do, unless someone kicked her out of it. The motion relaxed her, causing Elizabeth to fall asleep to the brash tinkling of the piano.

October 6, 1889 Dear Mrs. Rhodes, My most sincere apologies at the lack of information I've been able to obtain. After my legs healed, I contracted food poisoning and for a time was terribly ill. Fearing for my life, I have moved to a nearby town to continue my work. I am happy to report that I have met a sweet-tempered widow with four children and now share in the inst.i.tution of wedded bliss. While busy as a new father, business here is surprisingly brisk. But never fear, ma'am, my main concern, the one that has me lying awake at night staring at the ceiling in unblinking thought, is finding Elizabeth. I shall not rest until I've accomplished it.

Next week, I shall pose as a custodian and work a few weeks at the orphanage. This should give me ample opportunity to obtain information about your dear girl.

I shall write as soon as I learn anything more.

I remain your devoted servant.

Sincerely yours, Jeremiah Hoglesby.

Private Detective for Hire.

Eleven.

It was still dark the next morning as Elizabeth struggled with her pack and bedroll toward the front of the saloon. Three men were standing there, talking in low voices, their heads together. She stood a small distance away, watching them, undecided what to do. With relief she spotted Charlie coming down the street, leading a pair of loaded pack mules by red harnesses. He didn't look to be much affected by his stint with the whiskey bottle the night before. Dragging her outfit a little closer to the group, she pasted a bright smile on her face and prepared for battle.

The men didn't notice her as they grouped around Charlie, their excited voices affirming that this was indeed the party she had joined. Charlie's face was animated with good humor until he saw her. She saw his smile waver and a pucker form on his forehead. Oh no, he doesn't even remember, she thought with sudden panic. Bracing herself, she let her pack drop onto the snowy surface and strode with an almost swaggering quality up to the men.

"Good morning, Charlie. Wouldn't you like to introduce me to our traveling companions? I sure am eager to meet them."

She smiled her sweetest smile for all the gaping faces around her.

Charlie sputtered, "Well, heck, Miss Smith, I thought I dreamed that. You don't really want to go gold mining in the Yukon, do ya?"

Elizabeth looked up into his broad, perplexed face. With his dark brown hair sticking out from beneath a floppy hat and his equally long, droopy mustache, she thought he resembled a hound dog.

"Yes, I want to go and I will mine for gold."

She barely resisted the urge to stamp her small, booted foot. "Whether it's with these men or not, I'll let you all decide. But I will go, with or without you."

She gave him a piercing stare that a mother might give a reluctant child. "You did say that if I needed your help, you would help me. As much as I dislike asking, for I'm as independent as any here"a"her gaze swept regally over the men standing in a semicircle around hera""I am asking. Are you taking back your offer to let me hire you? You did accept my payment as I remember, and I thought we had a bargain."

Charlie cleared his throat and looked uncomfortably at his boots, "Well now, ma'am, you know I'd had me a few drinks last night, and I wasn't thinking as clearly as I might have been. But now I ain't one to go back on my word, no matter what condition I was in when I gave it." He eyed the group. "As long as these boys here don't mind, I'll let you in with us."

Had the situation not been so serious, Elizabeth might have laughed at the look of relief on Charlie's face as he pa.s.sed the burden to the other men in the group. She suppressed the urge, instead turning to stare fiercely into each set of eyes.

While they were talking, a fifth man had joined the group. He was a tall, thin man, garbed entirely in brown, but well-dressed in well-fitting clothes, with an ease about him that seemed almost peace-filled. He stared back at her with a set of steady, solemn eyes that searched her emotions, seeing, for an instant, beneath the facade of bravado. He was introduced by Charlie as William Cleary, a preacher from Colorado. She looked quickly away and caught the stare of two of the other men who, she was startled to realize, were identical twins. She had heard of it before but had never seen such a thing. They were both white-blond, had the palest blue eyes imaginable, and wore the same crooked grins. They looked at her with good-humored curiosity, reaching out at the same time to shake her hand. Giving them a sweet smile, she grasped the hand closest and then the brother's, thinking they wouldn't put up too much fuss at her presence. The last man, a dark half-breed she had seen in the post, didn't bother to conceal the scorn in his eyes. Elizabeth met the insolent stare evenly and lifted her chin before sweeping back around to face Charlie.

"Why don't you talk it over with the group, Charlie. Call me when you've come to your decision. I'd like to get a move on before dawn." With a toss of her head, she marched over to her outfit and sat down.

The waiting would have been the worst part, except that she could hear almost every word they said. The fools don't know how to whisper, she thought with a tight smile. Charlie and the half-breed wanted her out. She could only thank whatever fate was looking out for her that she'd gotten to Charlie the night before when he'd been drinking, or she would never have gotten this far. The twins were all for having her and argued in her behalf. They mentioned how nice it would be to have a woman around who could cook for them. Elizabeth tried not to groan. They'd find out the truth on that score soon enough. It was a tie, and they all looked to the preacher for the final vote. Elizabeth had to strain and hold her breath to hear the soft intonation of the stately man. He said something about how he believed her when she said she would go with or without them, and that he would rather take her under their collective wing than leave her to the dangers of a lone trail. She was in the group.

Her elation was too great to fear the road ahead. She was strong and smart and desperate. Those attributes had gotten her through before and would get her through again. They had to.

With a few curt words to her, Charlie lashed her pack onto one of the mules along with the others. "You'll have to carry the bedroll on your back like the others," he said in a surly voice.

Elizabeth smiled, confident and c.o.c.ky as she strapped on her pack for the hike to the steamer that would take them to the jump-over town of Dyea. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she a.s.sured him. The temperature was a comfortable 15 degrees, and she could feel the excitement of new adventure in her veins. She wouldn't think of the past or of Cara or Noah or even Ross. She would go forward and carve out a chunk of gold for her future.

THE TRAIL HAD never seemed so slow or tedious as it had on this trip, Noah thought, as he guided his horse into the barn outside the post. Hurriedly, he checked that the water trough was full and added a little hay from a nearby pile to the feed trough. Later, he would brush the horse down and give him better feed, but for now, he just couldn't wait. He had to see Elizabeth.

With sheer willpower, he made himself walk calmly to the door of the trading post. His look became puzzled and his steps gradually slowed when he got his first good look at the front of the post. Something wasn't right. The place was dark and it looked deserted. An uneasiness swept over him when he found the door locked. Why would Will lock up the post in the middle of the day? He shuffled his feet uncertainly for a moment. Glancing up at the second story windows, Noah's brow creased. The lacy curtains were open and he could see the bedpost of Will and Cara's bed through one of the squares of paned gla.s.s.

Suddenly a thought seized Noah, causing him to spin on a heel and stride down the street. Maybe Cara had had the baby. Maybe Will was having himself a celebration drink at his favorite saloon, The Hawk Eye Saloon.

Noah trudged up the narrow street, past the shacks and the lean-tos, the cabins both well built and ill spent, and the plank buildings, the town's businesses with their gaudily painted storefronts in the harsh afternoon sun. The wind was gusty today, and the town had a busy sound to it that was pleasant only in the sense that he heard it so rarely. His boots rang out on the wooden boards as he climbed the stairs to the swinging doors of the saloon. Tinny music rang out at all hours, giving the place a feeling of revelry, but Noah was disappointed to find it nearly empty. Sidling up to the bar, he motioned to the barkeep.

"What can I get ya, fella?" The barkeep seemed bored and in a talkative mood as he polished his eyegla.s.ses on a white ap.r.o.n.

Noah gave him a half grin. "I was hoping to find Will Collins in here. Maybe celebrating the birth of his first child. I went over to the post and it's locked up tight. Can't figure where else he'd be."