When You Find Me (Horror / Mystery) (IC / OPEN)

by **Beiarusia** » Sun Aug 12, 2018 11:30 am

STATE POLICE DEPARTMENT, PORTLAND
October 2008

It was a sudden reassignment. The detectives — Anthony Burrows and Claire Pryzbylewski — had only just come in when summoned to the auxiliary briefing room. Burrows hadn't yet poured his morning coffee.

The briefing room is small and exceptionally bland, white walls and fluorescent ceiling lamps and grey, patterned carpet with a U-shaped table in the center surrounded by a dozen padded chairs that were less comfortable than they appeared. A large whiteboard is standing in one corner, a potted plant in the other, a ficus, probably fake, and against the far wall opposite the door a screen projector from the 1980's that seldom saw use. Lieutenant Walker is waiting for the detectives. On the table in front of him are two manilla folders, and to his left a black Dell laptop.

Walker nods in greeting. "Burrows. Claire. Take a seat."

The detectives oblige, closing the door behind them.

The police Lieutenant wastes no time in explaining the situation. "You're being taken off the Johansen Case." Burrows opens his mouth to protest but Walker silences him with a raised hand. "I know, you two are close to a break, but Ramirez can handle things from here. A cold case just turned up a new lead, and I want you two on it."

He flicks open the first manilla folder and slides it across the table so the detectives can see the report. Inside, paper clipped to the paper, is a photograph of a teenaged girl. Long, dirty blond hair with grey eyes and freckles. No smile. Her expression is dour. Brooding. Unhappy. The background is a simple coloured backdrop like what is used typically for school pictures. The date at the bottom reads November 2007.

"Disappeared without a trace," Walker explains, his tone candid. He doesn't need to go more in-depth. The case had garnered a surprising amount of attention a few months back, and every officer in the Pacific Northwest would be familiar to some extent. "No evidence of foul play. Doors locked. Windows locked. No signs of forced entry. Nothing out a place or missing. Scoured those woods and lakes." He shakes his head. "Gone. State was involved in the search, briefly, perhaps you remember? We had as much luck as the locals. Until now." He taps at the laptop to wake it. "A video surfaced online. Peer-to-peer, recent, but we can't trace the original upload, and it would have gone unnoticed if it hadn't been gifted to us directly. Take a look."

The footage is compressed, poor quality, but shows a forest at night. Alice Lowland is hiking up ahead, following an overgrown, unknowable trail, the glare of her flashlight cutting the blackness in a distracting bloom. Her hair is down and her secondhand jacket a faded tartan. No backpack. No supplies. Only a book or something similar she has brought along.

"Are we going the right way?" asks the cameraman, panning to the surrounding wood. His voice is young.

"Yeah," Alice says with uncertainty. Her footsteps are loud, crunching on leaves and frozen dirt. The boy complains but she remains stubbornly adamant. "We can't wait until morning. You saw—" the audio cuts out. "A little bit further."

The camera turns suddenly. "You hear that?"

They stop and listen for a long moment. The night is uncomfortably quiet. No insects. No birds. Nothing. Just the soft breathing of Alice and her companion. Then a faint noise. A snapping twig. She flashes the light against the tall pines, searching for the source as the cameraman mutters a low curse. He wants to head back; she presses on, undeterred; he reluctantly follows. They walk for maybe another minute in silence. Then, another snapping twig, and they stop, and repeat the process of ensuring they are truly and utterly alone. The boy wants to leave. Alice shushes him, and steps closer to the brush to better peer into the forest.

And then a cascade of running footsteps behind them.

The camera turns wildly as the two teenagers yell out, and for a brief moment it catches a figure in the woods. They run, but the footage shows nothing but dirt and grass before ending seconds later.

Nobody says anything once the video clip ends.

Walker says, "Timestamp puts this video after the girl's last known whereabouts, and, more importantly, it gives us a second person of interest. It's not much but we know Alice wasn't alone the night she disappeared. And then there's this." He opens another file. It's a screenshot of the footage: the figure in the woods. A woman, and although she is shrouded in darkness there is enough light to identify key features in her appearance. Brunette. Mid-to-late-twenties. Expression unreadable. Walker opens the second manilla folder and shows the detectives. Another missing person. The accompanying picture is undoubtedly the woman in the video. "Jennifer Tallow. She's been missing since August 2005.

"Last known sighting was three years ago in Rockaway Beach. Local PD found her car, abandoned on some dirt road, but like Alice there wasn't much of a trail to follow. No evidence. Just gone. Techs are certain this footage is genuine."

"This doesn't make sense," Claire says as she studies the photographs of the two missing women.

"It don't. That's why you and Burrows are investigating. Two missing persons three years apart. No explaining that. This falls under State jurisdiction and I want answers. And I know you two have a speciality for delivering."

Burrows raises his hand, not high, like a student, but just enough to grab the Lieutenant's attention, more-so an absentminded gesture. "You said somebody gave us this lead. How?"

"An anonymous tip emailed directly to the precinct," answers Walker. He closes the laptop. "Throwaway account, so we don't know who's feeding us a trail of bread crumbs, but we traced it back to Cedarview, the high school specifically, and given that Alice Lowland is the most recent disappearance I suggest you start there." He pushes the laptop across the table to the detectives. It contains the footage as well as all the written reports concerning the two missing persons, and it is theirs to use. "I don't expect you to solve this in a night so room-and-board is on me. Hell, I'll pay for your gas, too. My treat." He pauses for a brief second and looks to Burrows and Claire. "I understand, this isn't much to go on, not one damn bit, but it's the only lead we have, and I know you two will figure something out. Make it happen."

CEDARVIEW
October 2008

The day is cloudy. No rain, just an overcast sky and a small breeze that brings with it a slight chill. The air is a strange mix of earthy, evergreen forest and saltwater, the forest and hills and distant mountains trailing alongside the northwestern coastline of the United States, and between them the small town of Cedarview, Oregon, and the pavement of Highway 101 as it stretched north/south to connect Washington and California.

Cedarview was well past its prime. The Colton Silver Mine had shuttered a few years back, and gone with it the town's primary source of income, a setback further complicated by the nationwide recession. Businesses were closing, tourism was largely nonexistent, and townsfolk were uprooting themselves and their families in search of greener pastures. (The population had dropped considerably from a high of 3,500 to less than 2,000 in the span of two decades.) The town was dying and there seemed to be little to be done to prevent its fading into obscurity. Would Cedarview be on the map in ten years time? A troubling question that few considered. To most, it was just another day, the same as yesterday and the day before, and they went about their business accordingly. Alive if not thriving.

"Did you see it?"

"Yeah. Bobby showed me. Like, totally weird."

"It's so fake. The little weirdo probably made it up to get attention."

The girls were sitting in a corner booth at the Pancake Shack. Teenagers. School had let out for the weekend, and the clique had stopped in to grab milkshakes and to gossip. Missy Einhaus was queen bee. Blond and popular, the sort of person to make the lives of those in her crosshairs a living hell. She had seen the video and she wasn't convinced.

"What if it's real?" Moira asks.

Heather waves off the suggestion as if it were a buzzing fly. "Don't be stupid. It's so cheesy."

"But it's been seven months...," Moira begins, but she stops as the door opens with a jingle. Her friends are about to say something, but she shakes her head and points with her brown eyes to the younger girl who's just entered.

Emily Lowland. Scrawny with short, dirty blond hair and eyes that were permanently in the mood for nobody's crap. A loner, or, more appropriately, a bookworm who enjoyed being teacher's pet, but ever since the disappearance the middle schooler had been nothing but bitter. Not that she'd been all too friendly to begin with. Emily walks up to the counter to place an order, keeping to herself. Mrs Johnson helps her.

"Speak of the devil. The weirdo's sister is out and about," whispers Heather.

Moira shakes her head. "Leave her alone."

Heather pouts, but Missy is the one to speak. "Let's go. This place is boring."

The girls get up and leave, passing the counter where Emily is waiting. She doesn't so much as bother to look up. Too busy scribbling in a composition notebook with a chewed-on pencil. Missy bumps into her, causing the pencil to skit across the page in a jagged line, and only then does the younger girl look up with cold eyes.

"Oops. My bad," she says in a mocking tone. Heather snickers; Moira keeps walking.

Emily begins erasing the unwanted pencil mark. "Whatever."

Missy smiles. "You've seen the video, right? The one with your sister?"

The younger girl has nothing more to say as the clique heads outside. She ignores them, like she ignores everyone else, like how everyone else in the small diner ignored the situation. Kids being kids. The old adults are too preoccupied to get involved. Not that it matters. Emily doesn't care. She, like them, has too much else to worry about than to care what others think. Mom probably hasn't eaten at all today. She might attempt dinner, but it's better if Emily brings home something to save her the trouble. If she's lucky dad will come home before dark. Not that she's holding her breath.

The antics of a stupid bully are nothing more than an annoyance.

That's what she tells herself as she rips out the ruined page to start anew.

by **Convallaria** » Sun Aug 12, 2018 9:57 pm

EVERGREEN INN – CEDARVIEW

October 2008

A wooded, roadside, visibly dated motel with a parking lot and a drained pool sits mum in the quiet morning. A vacancy sign swings creaking off the side of a giant cedar sign at the side of the highway. The name ‘Evergreen Inn’ contrasts well against the gloomy atmosphere, despite one of its neon letters being burnt out. Conifers behind the establishment sway in the breeze. The sea is almost invisible in the mist, and the passing boats are merely shadows across the sound. A woman in an oversized, white turtleneck and big plastic-framed glasses sits in the office, playing solitaire while watching a game show on a 14” tube TV.

Suddenly, the quintessential mechanical hum of Detroit steel reverberates from down the road, and a blue Cadillac convertible pulls into the motor court splashing through shallow puddles, and coming to a halt under the carport. A lanky, middle-aged lady in a cold shirtwaist dress emerges from the vehicle, nearly tripping on the curb. Her face is topped by a bouffant hairdo with enough hair spray to make it dangerously combustible. She is Paige Novak.

She enters the office door and walks through the small lobby, with the faintest smell of mildew paired with perfume. Even the light bulbs have yellowed. The manager with thick, grey hair and the face of an overwhelmed housewife doesn’t even notice the woman entering at first.

“Hello, I-“ Paige is unable to finish before Evelyn is startled by the noise and looks up.

“Oh my goodness, you scared the daylights out of me!” The proprietor says with a giggle, collecting herself in the process, and making Paige noticeably uncomfortable.

“Welcome to the Evergreen In darling. Now what can I do for you?”

“Well I er…I was hoping to get a room for a few nights,” Paige explains with a hint of question in her voice, unsure if she should turn back out the door.

“I suppose you’ve come to the right place then,” Evelyn laughs. “You from around here? That’s a lovely accent.”

“Heh, don’t let the accent fool you I’ve lived here for years.” Paige says, now slightly more relaxed. Evelyn nods... looks Paige over, then grins.

“Well I can give you the Suite for fifty a night. It has a few extras that the others don't,” Evelyn says while digging through the key boxes.

“No a regular room is fine thank you; I don’t intend to stay here long,” Paige says, causing the proprietor to stop for a second.

“Well…” Evelyn pulls a key from the hook behind her and slides it across the counter.

“Oh what the hell. I'll give it to ya for the same rate,” she says with a smile.

“Okay, that’s er…awfully nice of you,” Paige says skeptically.

“Just have yourself a nice stay, and if you need anything, give us a holler,” Evelyn says, returning to her card game.

After checking in, Paige scurries back to park her car, which at this point, is essentially her last item of value in her possession. She walks through the door to her suite, which is darkened from closed drapes. She flips the light switch, and stands in the doorway. It is rough, but better than her childhood standards. Tacky curtains, an old paisley bedspread draped across the bed, and an outdated television set on a pine dresser. Artificial plants hang in the corners of the room. Paige sighs, closes the door and sets her bag down on the bed. She flips the TV onto a local station…the reception is marginal at best. She begins shuffling through her personal effects and takes out a psychiatric patient file and legal pad of notes featuring an I.D at the top of each: Alice Lowland. Paperclipped to the file is a myriad of official looking mail. She sifts through it - all overdue bills except for an opened envelope from her bank with a foreclosure notice inside, which Paige tears off and examines quietly for the tenth time, letting it sink in once again. She clenches her fists in angst, rips it into pieces, only to leave her once again alone, regretful, and sitting in a mess of shattered memories. She lies restless on the tough mattress, a tear in each eye. Minutes go by, the air conditioning kicks in, and the program switches to a fairly unremarkable news story.

Reporter V.O:“This is a live shot of the Ocean View Rest Stop on the 101, ten miles west of McKinley. This is of course the infamous last known location of the starlet Harriet Reims before her highly publicized disappearance in January 1974. The location may look inconspicuous enough now, but for the months following Reim’s disappearance, this was a hotbed location of criminal investigation, which never attained more than few circumstantial leads. We've been told that after thirty-five years of investigation, the little funds that are still being diverted for Reim investigation matters will be cut off; but the details we're getting from authorities are sketchy at best. What we do know is that at this time, Police have changed their directives, and are examining alternate opportunities for the case. What they're looking for though, we're still not exactly sure.”

Paige takes out her voice recorder and clicks the REC button:

“Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was destined to move west. I was going to be somebody. Person of enlightenment. An understanding of life, I once thought. But...my dreams turned to dust. Instead of honours…eulogies. Instead of wealth, heh, foreclosures. Wretched afflictions. But I will not be pedestrian to the motions of another’s misfortune as well.”

She jolts up, digs through her bag and unfolds an entire map of the county. She tapes the large chart to the faded wallpaper, and marks Alice’s street with an red ‘x’. A patch of water damage above seeps dangerously close to the border. She keeps the microphone close to her mouth.

“Where are you little girl…” Paige hesitates and opens the Lowland file, distributing the papers around the bed. She continues: “Small towns are about the fertile ‘creature comforts’. I guess I used to believe this, but I wonder whether they're really about reassuring clichés, a mundane sense of the familiar.” Perusing through the notes, she comes across some of Alice’s art work; they are dark, and done very well. “The paintings are predictably comparable in theme, and banality; she obviously was interested in the evils of what nature held, the spirits lurking in the soils of which we construct our lives…” Paige draws lines following the highway to the city limits. “But where is the bone chilling evidence? Where are the streams of blood? Alice Lowland was ambitious, the fact is clear.”

Paige examines the drawings further and holds them up to the map. “How many thin walls have we put up with together, little lady? How many sarcophagal chambers? The cascades are a naturally creepy place...don't you think? I mean, how many spirits have been in this town before we make our steps? How many of them went insane? How many of them... murdered? We came here to get the story, and we don't rattle, do we? It's not that what you see isn’t real. It just ain't as real as it seems.”
In the middle of thought, Paige is interrupted by the rattling ring of the hotel phone. Puzzled as to who would possibly be calling the room, she pauses her recorder and answers.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is the front desk, Miss Novak. You’ve got a call from an ‘Albert Dawning’ for you, would you like to take it?”

Paige was stunned by the name. While not necessarily able to be classified as a friendship, Paige had personally asked Albert to call if there were any leads or clues into the case.

“Hello, miss? Are you still there?” Evelyn asked. Paige realized she had been silent for longer than normal.

“Yes, yes, sorry, I’ll take the call,” Paige confirms, before Albert is patched through.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Albert says.

“Well I didn’t really have anywhere else to go Al…” she responds somewhat sarcastically.

“How are you holding up?” Albert asks reassuringly.

“I’m fine, look, cut to the chase. What the hell are you calling for?”

“We may have a lead; we’re honestly not quite sure what it is yet, but I thought you should know.”

“Holy hell…” Paige says, almost astounded by the news.

“That’s what we said too.”

“What else do you know?” Paige inquires, heavily anxious over what the possibilities could be.

“Not much, its a digital video, with Alice and at least one other person. The quality is horrendous, but she's been ID'd. They say th-”

“I’m on my way,” Paige says before slamming down the phone, and grabbing her car keys without even hearing the rest. Walking to her car, she is optimistic about the news, and begins recording again.

“Some smartass spoke about the abruptness of fortune. If that's true, then…oh fuck it I’ll do this later.”

by **Dyelli Beybi** » Mon Aug 13, 2018 1:40 am

Avery Gerhart - near Cedarview High School

Avery flicked the indicator on, pulling over to the side of the road. It was a slow news day in Cedarview, which was not a good thing. Yes, they could print a story about a cat show, but the only people who wanted to read about that were people in the cat show. They could also try to write something about the goings on in the rest of the country, or indeed the world, but they didn't have reporters on the scene and were always going to be playing catch-up to the big papers. Besides, if they did that, what would be the point of a local paper? In Avery's opinion the point of the local paper was to cover things that might not make it to national news; to keep people informed about what was going on in their town.

There was, however, one story that, although growing cold now, had never come to a satisfactory ending: the disappearance of Alice Lowland. It had to hurt the family, even if they hadn't been the easiest people to talk to. Avery understood, she was the press and they didn't necessarily want their story in the Herald, but she was also a human being and while her digging might be a bit unwanted, she hoped it might help them to gain some kind of closure. She was old enough to remember the heartache when Jennifer Tallow had vanished. It had been the year before she had come back to town, though she had been visiting on and off. Yeah, the forest was a big place and all sorts of things could happen out there, but experienced hikers like Jennifer, or Avery for that matter, always took precautions, told people where they were going, when they were due back. That way if they had an accident or couldn't signal for help, people would know they were missing and know where to look... then there had been the disappearance of Mary Burke. She had been Alice's age when that had happened. That one was probably suicide, but still, nobody had found the body and without that, how could the family ever really have closure? You'd always be left wondering what had happened or if they were still out there, somewhere.

She sighed, drawing herself out of her musing and glanced in the direction of the High School. It looked much the same as it had when she was a student. That was when the place had been rebuilt. It was no longer the sparkling new building from her time there, though it was still in pretty good condition. She reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a pen and a pocket-sized ring-bound notepad, which she slipped into the pocket of the black leather jacket she had worn out today. She checked her reflection in the rear vision mirror, then got out, leaning against the side of her car as she waited for the bell to go.

Avery didn't know how she would be received on the school, she imagined it would involve the words 'get out' and possibly being manhandled by some slightly overweight guy who imagined he'd have done great in the police force, but they couldn't do much about her by the side of the road... she didn't think they could. It was a free country and nobody owned the sidewalk. She didn't imagine that she needed to go introducing herself; Cedarview was a small town and there was a more-than-reasonable chance that they knew she was 'that reporter' even if they didn't know what her name was. She also wasn't planning on badgering the students, she was much more interested in anyone who might have something they wanted to volunteer: someone who had a story but who, for whatever reason might have been overlooked.

There was a chance her investigation would be a total dead end, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Whenever the kids got out, she'd be there, just minding her own business, until someone gave her a reason not to.

by **Costa Fierro** » Mon Aug 13, 2018 2:41 am

by **Pax Nerdvana** » Mon Aug 13, 2018 6:25 am

Jim Robbins- Patriot Arms
Jim Robbins was in a bad mood. He had been tending his shop when he had seen the news about the new lead on the Lowland girl's disappearance on the old tv hanging in a corner of his shop. That had got him thinking about his own little girl who had disappeared thirty years earlier. And thinking about Jackie always put him in a bad mood, partly from grief, and partly from anger at not being able to find her. He hadn't had a customer all day, which didn't help his mood. He was barely able to keep his shop afloat. Fortunately, he owned the building, and didn't have to pay rent, but still. And those darn outsiders, coming into town with their fancy cars and newfangled iPhones who expected the locals to wait on their every need. Cedarview got few tourists anyhow. There wasn't much in the area to attract 'em fortunately. He had had tourists shoplift ammo and gun cleaning supplies before, which didn't help any.

Hopefully that lead would come to something, and they would be able to find the Lowland girl, even though it would probably bring a bunch of investigators into town. He didn't want another family to have to go through what he and his wife did all those years ago. The bell dinged, bringing him out of his reverie. A middleaged man walked through the door. Jim said,"How can I help you?"

by **Tayner** » Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:56 pm

Vernon Colts
October, 2008
Pancake Shack

School hadn't let out too long ago, and Vernon had to work tonight. Instead of heading home he went straight to work, not feeling like getting into a confrontation with his parents about whatever they didn't approve of him doing. He traveled across town at speeds exceeding the posted limits, staying of the main road where the police usually watched as he counted the moving violations he committed.

The Song on the radio was one of Vernon's favorites, he always liked Toby Keith. Various smells assaulted his nose as he traveled with his windows down. Sea salt, evergreen, shit, and the faint scent of barbecue offended his nose as he traveled through town, although never any two scents at once. The clouds had been around all day, paving the way for an almost chilly afternoon as the breeze and shade dissipated any heat.

He pulled up behind the Pancake Shack, where he humbly served as one of the cooks. He wouldn't be making a lot of pancakes this shift, but he could cook a mean burger or fry up some good shrimp. He sighed as he put the truck in park and leaned forward onto the steering wheel, pushing the thought of flipping burgers for the next six hours out of his mind. It had been a long day, such a long one that he hadn't skipped any classes in fact. His teachers would get on him about not taking notes or upcoming projects that he hadn't started.

He didn't particularly care. He had been doing well enough in his classes that he could afford to slack off for a bit. He realized that he was fifteen minutes early. He had time for his long deserved, union mandated, and cancer inducing smoke break. He lit a cigarette and watched as seagulls flew by, heading to the ocean for their evening feeding. Vernon's own stomach growled, he'd skipped lunch earlier and he likely wouldn't eat for another many hours. He could probably procure some food during his shift and take a quick break, something like that almost becoming normal for him, not that the boss man cared for it.

He sighed again, exhaling a puff of smoke from his nose. The radio had turned to commercials, and Vernon decided it was time to get off his ass. He cut the engine and stepped out of the truck, dropping and stomping out the cigarette, which had been smoked down to the filter. He rolled up the truck's windows and locked the doors before heading in through the back door. He clocked in, dawned his white apron, and washed his hands before heading to the grill to relieve whoever worked the morning shift.

He noticed the normal suspects out on the floor, and saw that Mrs. Johnson was working. She was a nice lady, although Vernon thought it was weird to be working with one of his classmate's mother. Zane was cool and all, although he seemed to be acting different recently, ever since Alice went missing. Vernon was hearing all sorts of things about that in the halls, whispers about Alice and some video. He hadn't seen it himself, although he wasn't particularly invested into the investigation of missing students. It did concern him though, that someone in his community dropped off the face of the earth, and the only trace seemed to emerge months later.

He sighed, and carried on with his job, trying to keep his mind from wandering lest he burn some of the product. However he was promptly distracted when Alice's little sister, Emily entered. Some of the conversations in the restaurant seemed to hush. Missy and her followers got up to leave not soon after, as Mrs. Johnson took Emily's order. However, Missy seemed to follow through with her reputation as she trie to hassle the little girl, bumping into her seemingly on purpose.

"Oops. My bad," Missy said, an apology in words but mockery in her tone.

"Whatever." Emily replied, uninterested and unwanting of a confrontation.

"You've seen the video, right? The one with your sister?" Missy spoke, wearing a smile as she walked away.

"Two pancakes and two burgers and a small fry on the go." Mrs. Johnson said as she handed back a ticket to Vernon, breaking his attention away from the encounter.

"Yeah. Comin' right up." He muttered, taking note that it was Emily's order. The poor girl had enough to worry about other than being charged too much for some of the best pancakes in Oregon. The food at the Pancake Shack was overpriced, at least in Vernon's opinion. He made sure that Emily got a large fry and two extra pancakes, behind the back of the boss man of course. A small kind act that Vernon forgot about after a few more hours in his shift.

The ride home was short, and Vernon made straight for his room to sleep. Standing over the hot grill constantly for a number of hours wasn't particularly relaxing. His trek was halted by his mother, Mary, who was unhappy with her son's late return.

"I thought you were coming home from school today." She said.

"I have a job." Vernon replied.

"I wish you told me when you were working. I made you dinner."

"I ate at work."

"Fine." She replied.

"I'm headed to bed. Goodnight." Vernon said before making to head to his room.

"Goodnight." His mom said, as Vernon ascended the stairs and entered his room.

His room wasn't much, but it was his humble corner in the universe. A pirate flag hung on his wall, and a old movie poster was on the door. A Fallout 3 poster was set up over his dresser, and an American flag was hung over his bed. A red flannel pattern covers his bed sheets, and a digital clock with aggressive red numbers sat next to his bed on top of a wooden night stand. A small brown footlocker sat at the foot of his bed, and a desk covered in papers, pencils, and dirty clothes was cramped between his dresser and the little wall space he had left. Dirty clothes were scattered all over the floor, and some of his textbooks were crammed under his desk.

He promptly collapsed onto his bed, and closed his eyes, ready to embrace a good night's sleep.

by **The Knockout Gun Gals** » Tue Aug 14, 2018 9:58 pm

Cedarview, Evergreen Inn
October 2008

Alexandra parked her van in the Inn's parking location. The inn looks fairly normal, if small, and not very...well, luxurious. Then again, the town itself is very small as well. Small population, smaller PD, and then you got yourself some kind of small community. Man, this town really small. But she has a job right now. Finding the roots of the missing people, especially after the latest video that was released to the media. Safe to say, it was someone or something horror-type. And with the woods, well, woods are terrible place.

"Hello!" as she approached the reception table. Evelyn greeted her warmly, "Hi there! A room?"

"Yes, a room, for me. How do you know?" she asked. Evelyn replied, "We got surge. I think it's a surge. After what just released, the video, Alice," she muttered. "Oh yes, Alice. I heard of her," Alexandra replied. "So, yeah, any places of interests in this town?' as Alexandra signed the process of getting a room. "Well, we have Wendy's and Pancake Shack. No cinema's around here, we have to go a bit far for that," Evelyn replied. "Alright, all sign up. Here's your key to the room and happy days!" she answered. Alex nodded, and then she left for the room. Inside, she unpacked her belongings. She locked her room, just in case. The town's small, but safe to say it is not safe to leave it open.

She'd better rest for now, after a long road.

by **Main Nation Ministry** » Wed Aug 15, 2018 10:43 pm

Footage 001
Log Notes: Subject Near Inn
Date: October 2008

START
The first piece of footage shows Horton Kinnamen at the inside of a car, his hands near the camera's lens, adjusting it on the seat to face him, while driving. Horton is shown to be visibly annoyed, saying to himself that he should have gotten on the flight with the rest of the crew. Horton notices the camera is recording and proceeds to stop recording.

The footage starts up again, this time the camera is pointed towards Horton at the driver's seat of the car from the passenger front seat, where a landscape of trees can be seen out of the window. Horton starts some narration, where he acknowledges the camera, making a brief glance at it, before being focused driving. "My name is Horton Kinnamen and this is Into Thin Air. I'm currently here in Oregon to investigate the disappearance of Jackie Robbins, who has vanished into thin air." Horton intentionally gave a title drop in the dialogue, as after the phrase, the show would just cut to the show intro, before cutting back to the real footage. Since the footage wasn't edited, there was no pause as Horton continued his narration.

"I'm here, arriving to the town of Cedarview, Oregon. A town that is mostly not heard of, as people tend to use the highway to drive by it. The case I'm investigating is the disappearance of Jackie Robbins, a 10-year old girl who has been missing since June 1977. There were woods that were behind the house where Jackie Robbins lived. According to the care, Jackie was playing unsupervised in the woods, where she simply vanished. No body was found, even after an extensive search, though most people believe she was kidnapped. What I'm going to do is attempt to discover any evidence that was overlooked or never found before. Jackie was about 10 years old where she disappeared, but if she's alive, she would be about 41 years old. As you may have noticed, the rest of my crew isn't here, because of a shitty flight." Horton said, where he knew the last part was going to be edited out.

"Currently, I'm trying to find a place to stay in the town, where...hang on. I see an inn that looks cheap. This is Horton, signing off."
END

Horton drove the rental car onto the parking lot of the seemingly typical roadside motel. A drained pool was nearby, which could be due to the weather being a bit gloomy. The month was within Fall after all, so it was normal that no one was using the pool, unless it's closed for decontamination, if some kid dropped a candy bar in there. A neon sign with the words, "Evergreen Inn" stood out along with the "Vacancy" sign. Several vehicles were already in the parking lot, so there were some people staying for the night in there. Horton parked the car and proceeded to get his stuff ready. Grabbing the large suitcase and the video camera, he carried them to the reception, where it smelt of perfume.

Horton did admit that the lady was welcoming and the inn did look nice, despite in the middle of almost nowhere. Getting his room key, the hotel manager asked him about his jacket, which showed the logo of the show Into Thin Air. "It's..uhh. It's a show. You probably hadn't heard of me." Horton said, as he carried his stuff to his motel room.

by **The Knockout Gun Gals** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 6:06 am

Alexandra O'Loughlin
Silver Lake

"Alright, so here we are," as she explained, to herself and to those who watched her stream in YouTube. Her channel has 12,000 subscribers, mostly filled with the usual things of a YouTuber. Just established, too. 2008, early this year. Not a lot of things sighted near the lake. To be honest, this is suck, a little bit. How does she able to get evidences this way? Of course she could get to the forest right away, but that's suicide, if the video that was released showed something for the audiences and media. Something or someone caused the disappearance of Alice Lowland. That's for sure. Whether a reclusive person, a serial killer, or natural disaster, or maybe...Blair Witch-style thing?

Blair Witch-style is the worst. That's for sure.

So far, her video camera caught nothing on sight. She'd stay for awhile, make sure something get sighted.

by **Kwadai** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 1:28 pm

Noah Hargrave

Noah Hargrave leaned back into the seat of his Audi and sighed loudly, he could feel his eyelids drooping as another wave of tiredness swept over him. He had finally brought the car to a stop after several hours of driving and it was now parked at a mostly empty parking lot in the town of Cedarview. Forcing his eyes open, Noah yawned and stretched his arms out as he looked out at the nearby buildings with their chipped, peeling and faded paintwork. One was even boarded up, it once may have been a thriving convenience store, but now was reduced to a memorial of a town that used to be. The streets of San Francisco seemed a world away, and in many senses, they were. He reached to his right where his journal lay in the passenger seat. Picking it up he traced his hand over its pale brown leather surface, before opening the cover and flicking through the pages until reaching the most recent where the black ink showing notes he had being taking as thoughts come to his head. He always found it fascinating how far his mind could wander when alone for hours.

“It sat beneath the hills, where the dark evergreens met with the shore and the scent of pines lingered with the taste of salt in the air. The town was silent, few streets and even fewer people wandering them, but was not entirely forgotten. Some stayed on, surviving and making their life where others had long left.”

He took a gulp of water before opening the door and climbing out of the car, taking his journal and notebook with him and sliding them into his army green backpack that he had taken with him for lighter everyday objects. Locking the car behind him, Noah left the car park in the direction of the more central are of this town. Mist hung over the distant hills, it was eerily pretty and the autumnal air was cool, the only sound was of the cars on the highway that ran like a spine past the town. Noah instinctively pulled down the sleeves of his navy blue sweater against the breeze. Cedarview wouldn’t have struck anyone as a choice vacation destination, and would more than likely be passed by most drivers in favour of other stops. But Noah wasn’t here for either of those reasons. As a novelist, he couldn’t resist the opportunity to use the history of mysterious disappearances as inspiration for his writing. He was sure many locals would criticise him and view his presence as simply taking advantage of their unfortunate situation. Although, considering that he had found out about the disappearances, he was certain others would have too and that Cedarview may not be as unpopular as it seemed, particularly with those curious enough to travel here.

In reality, Noah had no idea where anything was, knew nobody, and he didn’t even know where he was going to stay. Surely there would be some sort of accommodation here, probably of questionable quality. But that was a bridge he was prepared to cross when it came to it. For now, getting to know the place was the obvious first step. The town was relatively small, and therefore easy to navigate. While Noah walked he couldn’t help but wonder why this fading, but otherwise ordinary town had gathered attention as the place of unsolved mysteries, a place where a girl had vanished without a trace. Turning a corner he came upon another street where what looked to be a school was located. “Hmm,” he thought to himself, observing the surrounding. “I wonder what the population is...and how they’ve reacted?” Just as he was about to start questioning himself more, he noticed about fifty metres down the road a solitary young woman stood, leaning against her car. Knowing it may be worth trying to ask her about the town and whatever there was there, Noah continued down the street. “Excuse me,” he started as soon as he got close enough. “Are you local?”, he asked. “I’ve just arrived here and wasn’t sure where anything is.”

by **Dyelli Beybi** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 3:15 pm

Kwadai wrote:
Noah Hargrave

In reality, Noah had no idea where anything was, knew nobody, and he didn’t even know where he was going to stay. Surely there would be some sort of accommodation here, probably of questionable quality. But that was a bridge he was prepared to cross when it came to it. For now, getting to know the place was the obvious first step. The town was relatively small, and therefore easy to navigate. While Noah walked he couldn’t help but wonder why this fading, but otherwise ordinary town had gathered attention as the place of unsolved mysteries, a place where a girl had vanished without a trace. Turning a corner he came upon another street where what looked to be a school was located. “Hmm,” he thought to himself, observing the surrounding. “I wonder what the population is...and how they’ve reacted?” Just as he was about to start questioning himself more, he noticed about fifty metres down the road a solitary young woman stood, leaning against her car. Knowing it may be worth trying to ask her about the town and whatever there was there, Noah continued down the street. “Excuse me,” he started as soon as he got close enough. “Are you local?”, he asked. “I’ve just arrived here and wasn’t sure where anything is.”

Avery was a little surprised to find someone talking to her, though it gave her something to do before the students got out. Waiting around wasn't the most entertaining activity in the world, "Oh hi!" she greeted the man cheerfully, "Yep, I'm a local." she confirmed.

By the way the man was talking it sounded as if he was relocating to Cedarview. That was an unusual choice, especially for someone young. People like that tended to move into the city, not into the boondocks. Peculiar... but not something she could judge anyone for doing, she had, after all, moved back here after her stint in the city. Perhaps she was getting the wrong end of the stick and he was just visiting a relative? Avery (the reporter) was curious, but it really wasn't any of her business. In time, everything would reveal itself, "My family goes back a good hundred years or so in these parts..." she continued, with a slight touch of pride, "...and Cedarview is pretty tiny, so I should be able to help. What are you looking for?"

by **Faal Dovah** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 3:40 pm

Jacob Wilson
Near Kingfisher Lake
October 2008

"Nothing, again" Jacob sighed as the sun rose over the horizon. He had been night fishing for the fourth time on a row on Kingfisher Lake, yet he hadn't caught anything. "Is it a curse? Is it just plain bad luck?" he wondered, as he piloted the boat back to the lake's shore on a makeshift dock his grandfathers had made before he was born. Jacob felt like dropping dead from all the sleep he had been losing. But he couldn't give an entire day to sleep, and so he prepared his boat to be towed. But it the day went from bad to worse when his truck wouldn't start.

"Come on, please start!" he begged the truck "Please baby, I really need you to start!" but to no avail, as the engine flooded. Jacob popped open the truck and saw that the spark plugs were damaged. "Oh my fucking god, are you serious?!" he shouted. His face turned to anger, and his hands were shaking as he was lighting his cigarette, trying to calm down. "Ok, fuck, everything is just fucking fine. Ok, Mike might have some spark plugs down at his store". He opened the door to his cabin to grab his backpack and a customized map of Derringer Park. Jacob would go through the forest up until Silver Lake, then pass the Silver Bridge and follow the Tracks to end up at the Colton Mine, and from then on he would just have 30 minutes to Cedarview. "Well, that would take... 4 hours and 35 minutes? God, if it weren't for that spark plug, I could've used those 4 hours to catch fish in the Pacific. Fuck, I need to be better prepared for shit like this". Jacob grabbed the Karabiner-S and its holsters, as well as taking some stripper clips. They were running low as well. And with that he started his hike. He made a short list of what he had to buy in Cedarview:

spark plug from Mike
more stripper clips from Jim
spices for food and canned stuff from Arnold

Silver Lake

As he came upon Silver Lake, Jacob saw a curious sight: another human. A strange woman, talking to herself. This was no good sight, and Jacob was quite familiar with the events that were happening in the forest, and he was scared of them. He tried to sneak past her, but alas, a branch snapped under him. The woman turned her attention towards him, but Jacob took off running before she would try to interact. She heard her in the background, calling out to him, but ignored and kept on running until he couldn't hear her no more.

by **Costa Fierro** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 5:03 pm

Joe Foster
The Foster Cabin

Joe's finger hovered above the buttons on his phone, unsure if he was going to call Emily back. The finger lowered and began tapping away, pressing the numbers necessary for a landline call to Vallejo in California. The phone rang and rang and rang, Joe's anticipation and anxiety increasing with each ring. No one answered and a recorded message played.
"Hi it's Emily," it began. This was followed by a man's voice. "And Mark." The both of them spoke together now. "We can't come to the phone right now so please leave a message."
Joe hesitated for a second before speaking.
"Hi Emily," Joe said. "It's Dad. I got your message. I've missed you a bunch and I agree, it's time to talk. Call me when you're in Portland." Joe hung up and then got the machine to play back Donna's message. She sounded panicked and gave a mobile phone number. Joe called it and got an answer almost immediately.
"Hello?" a panicked voice asked.
"Hello, it's Joe Foster," Joe said. "You rang earlier."
"Oh yeah," Donna said. "I was out walking near Kingfisher Lake and I saw something that scared the absolute stuffing out of me. I have no idea what it was or what it could be and I'm really scared. Can you help?"
"Sure," Joe replied. "Where are you now?"
"The parking lot next to Derringer Park," Donna said. "I'm sitting in my car right now. It's a white Chevy." Derringer Park wasn't that far from where Joe lived.
"I'll be right over." Joe said. "Hopefully we can find some answers."

Derringer Park

The white Chevrolet Lumina was the only car in the parking lot adjacent to Derringer Park, a wide expanse of grassland under the auspices of Tillamook County. There was a playground and numerous nature trails, many of them not very long, branched off into the temperate rainforest beyond. Joe knew many of these trails well, although he hadn't visited a number of them in a while. The park backed onto state land, the Tillamook State Park to be exact. Joe was familiar with this kind of environment, as he had spent well over three decades working in the Siuslaw National Forest to the south. One of the reasons why he had to give up full time work was the amount of time he spent at work and away from the family, as it was a two and a quarter hour drive each way. Joe always liked the drive, and likened it to the most scenic commute anywhere.

Joe pulled in one parking space away from Donna's and got out. Donna got out too. Despite the older name, Donna was very much a younger woman. She looked to be about half Joe's age, with curly chestnut brown hair that was tied into a ponytail. She wore a white long sleeved top, grey yoga pants and blue running shoes. Joe recognised the face, he'd seen her around town on occasion. Joe extended his hand and Donna shook it rather meekly.
"So where abouts did you have your encounter?" Joe asked.
"On the Loop," Donna replied. The "Loop" referred to one of the trails that wound its way around the perimeter of Kingfisher Lake. It was a nice, scenic walk that Joe had done many times before. "That's my usual route."

They began to walk towards the trail heads that led into the forest and hills beyond. Joe got Donna to recount her walk up to the point where she saw what she had described. A slight drizzle had begun to fall by the time they arrived at the spot where Donna had her sighting. It wasn't very far down the Loop trail, and it occurred in a gap between the streets a couple of dozen feet from Kingfisher Lake itself. Donna stopped and Joe could see she was quite upset at being back at the place so soon. But Joe reassured her and tried to get her to calm down.
"OK, where was the figure you saw?" Joe asked. Donna pointed to a pine tree on the right hand side of the gap. Joe walked over to it. He asked another question.
"Was it in front, behind or beside the tree?"
"Beside," Donna said. "She had her arm out like she was...resting, I guess. Or leaning." Joe put his left arm out and rested it against the pine. He noted that Donna had ascribed a sex to the figure.
"Like that." Donna said.
"Can you tell me how high..erm...she was?" Joe asked.
"Middle chest height," Donna replied. "On you." Joe made a mental note of the height.
"Can you give me any extra details?" Joe asked. "Anything you can remember."
"It was like there was someone standing there," she said. "She had white or really light grey-ish skin, like it was off colour. It didn't look right. She...uh...she didn't have a face." Joe was now becoming quite perplexed about this, but remained open minded. He encouraged her to keep going.
"She had a dress on," Donna said. "It was grey and it was all ripped up." Joe came back from the tree and stood with Donna. He noted that it was very quiet, hardly a bird chirping or a breath of wind. All he could hear was the slight breeze through the pines, the gentle lapping of the lake, and Donna's voice.
"It's very quiet." she noted.
"Was it like this when you saw her?" Joe asked.
"I don't know," Donna replied. "I had my headphones on the whole time. I listen to music when I run." Donna paused for a moment. She had a realisation come over her face. "There's something around here isn't there?" Joe didn't want to alarm her, but she was right. Birds and animals always went silent when a predator or something equally threatening was nearby. Joe looked around, listening intently for any sound of something moving through the underbrush that filled the forest floor between the pines. Not that much could be heard, as the mossy, soft nature of the understory yielded little sounds normally. Joe and Donna began walking back out.

Upon their return to the parking lot, Joe thanked Donna for taking him to her sighting location on such short notice and for remaining as calm and as collected as she did. He waited for her to leave before removing his film camera from the glovebox and walked back to the location.

Joe began looking around the location for any clues. Silence still permeated the forest, and the uneasy feeling continued to be present. Joe looked around. He couldn't see much, but it was a feeling that he had felt before. It was cliche, but it did feel like he was being watched. By what or whom he did not know. Joe began looking around on the ground for tracks. Most of the ground around the trail was covered in moss, and not exactly conducive to track formation. But then he saw it. In a small patch of mud in a shallow undulation in the trail, Joe saw a single footprint. It wasn't very large, around half the size of his. It's small dimensions were akin to a woman's foot. It didn't surprise Joe at first, given that plenty of people wandered nature trails barefoot, this was the Pacific Northwest after all. What did surprise him on closer inspection was the direction in which the foot was pointing: towards the hillside. Joe looked further in the direction of the footprint and saw another partial print on the trail side, this time the heel and part of the foot. There was a disturbance in moss and grass at the side of the trail, like something had passed through. Joe found more tracks but could not make them out enough to be able to follow the trail of footprints with confidence. The mossy, wet and slippery nature of the terrain they were in also was a factor in his dissuasion, even with his military boots. Joe took his camera and photographed the location, the footprint, the partial print and the direction in which they were heading, as well as where they were apparently coming from.

Joe made a note of the return of birdsong as he left the trails. The rain returned as he hopped inside his pickup.

The Foster Cabin

Joe returned and stopped the truck out the front. He didn't exit his vehicle immediately, stopping to take out the roll of film out of his camera. He opened the driver's door and darted across the driveway up into the shelter of the porch. Unlocking the door, he made his way inside, wiping his feet on a mat, but not removing his boots. He walked through into the kitchen, where he grabbed a small but sharp fold-out hunting knife. He took the roll of film, opened it and took the film out. Holding it up to the kitchen window, he used the backlight to find the photos he had taken by Kingfisher Lake and using the knife, cut off the photos from the roll. He pulled a drawer out from the bench adjacent to the sink, which was filled with all sorts of stationery. He pulled out a white envelope and slid the cut roll of film inside before placing the envelope back onto the bench. He went into the living room and pulled out a record from the collection. It was one his wife had, and one that she liked a lot. He hated those kinds of dances, but the song wasn't too bad. Soon the living room and kitchen were filled with the sounds of Little Eva's greatest hit, The Locomotion.

by **Kentucky Fried Land** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 5:51 pm

Detective Anthony Burrows
Oregon State Criminal Investigation Division
Enter Cedarview

What it was was absolute unconstrained bullshit. The lieutenant, with his fancy medals and the gleaming stardust he coughed from his throat, had screwed them with this case. Burrows had grown tired of being yanked from case to case, especially when the solution to his last had just reared its head. Being delivered to some podunk town with nothing but a video to lead them on was near insulting. No, not near insulting. It was insulting. Burrows grinded his teeth. That idiot Ramirez had been assigned to the Johansen case, had he? So he could slurp their sloppy seconds down the vast, empty gullets that were his mind and his stomach. That fucking asshole.

Then his partner had been stripped of him too. Sent to Rockaway Beach to investigate further into Tallow’s case, leaving him all alone in his endeavors. He gnawed on his lips, cursing the state of the higher-ups with their mindless bureaucracy, their nimble, bamboo trunk fingers dashing over keyboards to type up reports for their fucking promotions. For a brief moment, the thought of the media getting ahold of the case crossed his mind. What a shitshow that would be for those assholes with stripes. A funny shitshow, but a shitshow nonetheless.

This close to Johansen and nothing to show for it. His mind had taken a fumble with the sudden switch. Johansen deserved to get off the street. Akron Johansen was a bastard who deserved to get taken to prison, slinging meth and heroin to kids on his fucking corner of Grants Pass. An operation that stretched from there to Ontario and now? Ramirez was getting the glory.

Burrows aimed his thoughts at the stack of papers in his passenger seat, rapping his knuckles over the steering wheel. Cedarview was a blip in the distance, his unmarked SUV to pull into this hicktown in mere minutes. Burrows was dressed for the occasion, as typical. His hair was left in sporadic brown curls that were kempt only by a wicked brush that brought pain with every stroke. His leather jacket hugged loosely around his body, his flask tucked into a jacket pocket next to his service weapon. His pretty boy face was smoothed of any stubble, razored with the skill of a man who had cut his chin many times.

Could look on the bright side. Missing persons is better than another washed-up drug operation.

Another voice nibbled at his earlobe. It is when you have more than a video as your lead.

Him and his partner had tolerated each other. Some sort of mutual friendship might linger there, a sense of camaraderie, but the two were never going to be “BFFs.” He was an alcoholic braggart who cheated his wife and fucked over criminals; she was a smoking sugar junkie who was a newbie to the detective agency. They had been on a few cases before and Burrows didn’t mind shooting the shit with her, but they disagreed… often. The introspection she forced hurt sometimes, but it was nothing a good drink couldn’t dissuade. My great uncle lives here. Jebediah. He grinned, showing off his pearly whites as he thought of the few occasions he had met his uncle. His jumbled thoughts found three words to describe his senior.

A fucking nut. And a nut, Jebediah was. The last Burrows had heard, the man (already prone to conspiracy theories and the like) had been afflicted with dementia. This was sure to only intensify the rants and the psychotic ramblings the man was to go on. A brief sense of empathy warped Anthony’s mind. Should probably check up on him. At some point. He mused.

Burrows gave himself more comfort, leaning up on the windowsill to allow one hand to take the wheel. He had enough control with that; a second arm was just an unnecessary addition to perfection. He drifted back to the coming case, a sentimental tone taking on. How am I even supposed to feel about it? Should I be flattered that the higher-ups trust me with a cold case; or should I be angry that they fucked us rawdog?

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. The detective’s gaze was near a drunkard’s, yet the alcohol in his system had been washed out the previous night. Department’s fucked.

Betcha I’ll see how the good old boys do it, in a real police department. From what Burrows understood, they had labeled what was very obviously not a runaway, a, well… runaway. Even without his own prejudice, they were an idiot podunk constable clan with little in the way of critical thinking. He was not excited and from Claire’s tone of voice before she left, neither was she. They could agree on that at least.

The sign appeared in the distance. Worn and weathered it sat before the town, hardly updated. A real generic welcome, befitting of the town. Welcome to Cedarview. Home of the absolutely nothing.

Sea air coasted along his nostrils, a light mist in the air that peppered the windows. The mist disappeared before long as he passed in, Burrows taking in the sights. Blink and you’ll miss it.

His eyes glanced over at a local diner some kid was leaving; the Pancake Shack. Knock-off IHOP? Might be good.

The truck kept moving, anyone paying attention would notice this wasn’t your typical Tahoe that came driving through. An unmarked police SUV wasn’t something that attentive folk just glanced over; especially one of this caliber. Where was that hotel again? Hopefully his stay here wasn’t prolonged, but if the Lieutenant’s last suggestion was anything to go by, this was his home for now.

Burrows frowned, glancing down the road as he foresaw a sign in the distance that foretold the Evergreen Inn on the right. He took a quick turn onto the street and soon enough had pulled into the Evergreen Inn. Into a parking space and out onto the sidewalk he stepped.

It was cool outside. A blightful breeze brushed against them, the parking lot spotted with dirty sedans and grimy pickup trucks. Not the biggest corner of the Earth but… it was where he was now. So.

Fuck it. And fuck this.

Burrows decided that as he stepped into the front office.

It was such a trifling affair that Burrows had all but forgotten about it by the time they got to Cedarview’s Police Department. A quaint little place covered in decaying bricks, walls crumbling with no hope for repair. But at least they had gotten a government employee discount at that hotel.

Burrows muttered with a sarcastic cheer, opening the door hard and shutting it behind him. An elderly lady sat behind the front desk, looking up with a happy aura of concern. “Hi, how are you?” Burrows smiled fakely, squinting his eyes as he did so. They showed little friendliness, but the naive woman took it as such. “We’re good, how are you?” The woman smiled as Burrows took out his state ID, dropping it on the counter. “I’m Oregon State Police, here investigating the Lowland disappearance. I was referred to, to, uh, Detective Holden or Sheriff Coffers. Either or.”

The woman nodded knowingly, taking in every word with careful attention and deliberate faith. “Oh, okay, um, well, they’re both in right now, I can get them both for you if you need me to?” Burrows nodded as the woman turned away, picking up the office phone and getting to work on calling them up. Burrows turned around, one arm resting on the counter as he raised both eyebrows in a universal expression. What a nice lady. Those face wrinkles said it all, a sardonic tone even in their lack of speech.

by **Faal Dovah** » Sun Aug 19, 2018 6:36 pm

Jacob Wilson
Lowland Auto Repair ,Cedarview
October 2008

"I-I haven't done this in some time" Jacob said, as he arrived in front of the shop "I should run more". It hadn't changed much from the last time he had visited, except from some Missing Person posters of his daughter. Jacob took a deep breath and entered the store, prepared to talk to someone. The doorbell rang as he entered. At the desk sat a man in his 40s, reading a manual. The man looked up and saw who had entered, and so he got up from his seat and proceeded to shake's Jacob hand.
"Oh, Jacob, I haven't seen you in some time!" the man said.
"Right back at you, Michael!"
"Here, take a seat" Michael said as he hinted towards a couch "So, have you seen her, Jacob?"
Jacob paused, looking at the man's face, then sighed with disappointment.
"No, Mike, I have not seen her, nor have I heard anything strange. Well, except for this morning, when I saw a strange woman by the Silver Lake"
"Strange woman? What strange woman?"
"One with brown hair, with a phone in her hand, that was talking to herself. The talking to herself was enough to keep me away."
The man chuckled: "That was Alexandra O'Loughlin, a screenwriter that is staying at the Inn"
"Then why was she talking to herself?"
"Strange folk is always strange folk. Jacob, I have a request for you. Coffers said that a video came up of Alice, I think it's load of bullshit, but you may make something of it."
"Of course, Mike, you know I'd do anything to find your daughter. I'll go check up on it, but until then, do you have a spark plug for my Jeep?"
The man went into the storage room and returned with a spark plug, handing it to him. Jacob dug up his wallet from his back pocket, but Mike stopped him: "Free-of-charge, it is only fair"
Jacob thanked the man and left. He wasn't so keen on visiting the Sheriff after his last shenanigan at the Handy Hatchet, where he got into a drunken brawl with a man, only because he asked where the bathroom is. Thankfully, after Jacob had explained the situation, the man didn't press charges, yet Wilson still had to spend a night in jail. The bed was actually comfier than the one at his cabin.
But he promised Michael he would do it, so Jacob headed for the Station.

by **Beiarusia** » Mon Aug 20, 2018 10:54 am

HELEN TOWNSEND
Cedarview High School

School had let out for the weekend. The students do not linger for longer than was absolutely necessary, and some teachers, too, are quick to head on home. Ms Townsend, however, takes her time as she has no appointments to attend or reasons to rush out the door. She isn't married, not anymore, so has no husband awaiting her back home, no children, and her little dog will be fine for a few minutes more alone. The teacher moves at her own pace. Packing her things and tidying up the classroom.

"Have a good weekend," says the old, grizzled janitor as she leaves for the day.

"You too, Bob."

The school building is mostly empty now, the halls quiet save for the distant whispers of after-school activities and the drone of horns in the band room. Ms Townsend heads downstairs to the front entrance. She lives nearby so doesn't see a point in driving so long as the weather is fair, and although the last few days have been cloudy it hasn't yet rained more than a drizzle, so she walks, believing the exercise to be convenient considering she isn't as concerned with fitness as, say, Donna Truelove. Not that she is overweight, and she eats healthy enough, but Ms Townsend is not the sort to partake in morning runs or to own a gym membership. The nearest gym is a town over regardless.

A familiar car is parked on the road near the school, and standing outside it is a familiar woman. Avery Gerhart, the young owner of the local newspaper and who fancies herself a journalist. An unfamiliar man is talking to her.

Ms Townsend slows her pace a tad bit as she approaches the two. She and Avery are about the same height with similarly coloured hair, although her own is graying at the ends, what with her being twice the girl's age. The teacher is dressed in a blouse and black trousers underneath a simple jacket. Her oversized purse is stuffed full of everything she needs for grading papers at home, and the grip of a collapsable umbrella sticks out a bit. All-in-all, Ms Townsend isn't one to stand out.

"Hello, Avery," she greets with her usual soft tone, hoping she isn't interrupting a conversation. "Are you waiting for someone?"

EMILY LOWLAND
Cedarview

They had given her too much food: a large french fry, not a medium, and extra pancakes. Not that she complains, the Pancake Shack really does have good food, but neither does she want to make a habit on relying on the sympathy of others. She doesn't want to be pitied. Treated differently or "special" just because of what happened.

The week after Alice disappeared was the worse. The fake concern, pretending to be her friend, it had been sickening.

Emily walks home, enjoying the solitude as the clouds overhead darken with potential rain. She lives a few miles south of downtown, in an older, middle-class subdivision. The house is two stories tall, white with faded, blue trimming, simple stonework, a naked maple tree in the front yard, and a silver minivan parked outside. The mailbox is a bit crooked from being hit a few months ago. The homes of the neighbors are similar in design, as are the other homes on the street, lived-in and showing their age. Not yet dilapidated but obviously constructed in the 1970's when the town was thriving.

The girl's mother is downstairs. She is watching television, cartoons, disheveled and dressed in pajamas. An effort has been made to do the housework, to tidy up, to put away the dishes and laundry, but the precision care of a loving mother is no longer there, too distraught by the loss of her eldest daughter. Kirsten Lowland tries, but depression has left her unable to function like the well-oiled machine she once was.

"I brought dinner," Emily says, setting the paper bag on the coffee table and divvying out the food.

"Oh. You didn't have to."

She did. Her mother probably hasn't eaten all day.

They eat in silence, watching cartoons and talking only when necessary, not that they hate one another, and, in fact, it is quite the opposite, but the hole between them is abyssal. A missing piece that neither understands how to bridge. Being in the presence of one another is enough, and if not then it will have to suffice.

Emily cleans up after they are done, and puts away the dishes that still need putting up, and the laundry, and only then does she heads upstairs to her bedroom, writing in her notebook the ideas that float about inside her head. Not stories, but assumptions and observations, theories, and when she hits a dead-end she crosses the painful threshold of Alice's bedroom and powers on the computer, and she watches the footage that she found online like a critic scrutinizing every minor detail. The quality is poor, compressed, but it is something important. Alice and the unknown boy hiding behind the camera lens. He knows. If only she did, too, but Emily can only guess and wait, and waiting is the hardest part.

That's why she took action. To force an investigation. To find answers.

The police would never know it was her who had sent the email.

by **Kwadai** » Mon Aug 20, 2018 11:49 am

Dyelli Beybi wrote:
Kwadai wrote:
Noah Hargrave

In reality, Noah had no idea where anything was, knew nobody, and he didn’t even know where he was going to stay. Surely there would be some sort of accommodation here, probably of questionable quality. But that was a bridge he was prepared to cross when it came to it. For now, getting to know the place was the obvious first step. The town was relatively small, and therefore easy to navigate. While Noah walked he couldn’t help but wonder why this fading, but otherwise ordinary town had gathered attention as the place of unsolved mysteries, a place where a girl had vanished without a trace. Turning a corner he came upon another street where what looked to be a school was located. “Hmm,” he thought to himself, observing the surrounding. “I wonder what the population is...and how they’ve reacted?” Just as he was about to start questioning himself more, he noticed about fifty metres down the road a solitary young woman stood, leaning against her car. Knowing it may be worth trying to ask her about the town and whatever there was there, Noah continued down the street. “Excuse me,” he started as soon as he got close enough. “Are you local?”, he asked. “I’ve just arrived here and wasn’t sure where anything is.”

Avery was a little surprised to find someone talking to her, though it gave her something to do before the students got out. Waiting around wasn't the most entertaining activity in the world, "Oh hi!" she greeted the man cheerfully, "Yep, I'm a local." she confirmed.

By the way the man was talking it sounded as if he was relocating to Cedarview. That was an unusual choice, especially for someone young. People like that tended to move into the city, not into the boondocks. Peculiar... but not something she could judge anyone for doing, she had, after all, moved back here after her stint in the city. Perhaps she was getting the wrong end of the stick and he was just visiting a relative? Avery (the reporter) was curious, but it really wasn't any of her business. In time, everything would reveal itself, "My family goes back a good hundred years or so in these parts..." she continued, with a slight touch of pride, "...and Cedarview is pretty tiny, so I should be able to help. What are you looking for?"

Noah Hargrave

As the sound of students filing out of the school building could be heard in the distance, Noah felt his shoulders relax, he had been somewhat tense since his arrival in the town, but Avery's pleasant demeanour and friendly tone allowed him to be a that bit more at ease. Although it didn’t seem as if if there were anything here he should be anxious about, on the surface at least. He was relieved to hear she was indeed a local, one who was willing to help and listened to the her speak as she explained her family’s long history of settlement in Cedarview. He hadn’t even realised the place had existed for so long. A sort of curiosity began to develop in Noah about the town's history and why it was the way it was today, but any such curiosities would have to wait.

“Well I was wondering where would be the best place I could stay for a whi-,” he started before another voice interrupted him. An older woman approached the two from the school, giving her greeting to “Avery” who he guessed was the other woman he had just encountered. Noah instinctively backed two steps away considering he was the strange outsider in their town. He knew it probably looked and sounded peculiar to anyone passing by, a complete stranger suddenly wanting to find somewhere to stay in Cedarview, a small town with essentially no attractions for the casual visitor. Furthermore he was equally aware of the fact that anybody who did overhear would know why he was here, and becoming suspicious was not high on his agenda.

by **Faal Dovah** » Mon Aug 20, 2018 1:48 pm

Jacob Wilson
Police Station
October 2008

"We see again, Cedarview Station" Jacob said as he arrived in front of it. If only that man wouldn't have been there at the wrong time. If only he wasn't drunk. If only the hospital hadn't called previously to tell him that his mother would never be able to walk again. Well, it was all water under the bridge for Cedarview, but not for a solitary man living in the woods. Jacob unenthusiastically entered the Station.

At the front desk was a Cathy, as usual, and a man in his late 30's with dark curly hair. He wasn't a local, and had what seemed to have his ID on the counter. Jacob approached the desk. Cathy looked up at him and smiled.

"You're quite the sight, Jacob. I don't think I've ever seen you enter this building willingly" Cathy said, smirking.

"Funny" Jacob said, having a chuckle at the observation "I don't think I've ever seen you actually doing something"

"Touché, Jacob Wilson. Well, you didn't come all the way here just to see me, so what can I help you with?"

"I just visited Mike for a spark plug, and he told me something about a video of Alice. I was wondering if you could help me with that?"

"I don't know that much about it, but Coffers is going to come here anyways, so you might just ask him about it"

"Err, I actually think I have something to pick up" Jacob said, slowly creeping towards the door

"Oh come on, it's not like he's going to bite you. Don't worry about that thing from 3 months ago, he's already forgot it"

"If you say so, then I guess I should wait for him"

Jacob took a peek at the stranger's ID.
"Anthony Burrows? All the way from Salem? State Police is quite the rare sight in Cedarview!" Jacob thought as he lit himself a cigarette. The Station made him uncomfortable.

by **Beiarusia** » Mon Aug 20, 2018 7:30 pm

DANIEL COFFERS
Cedarview Police Department, Town Hall

The past few days had been nothing short of hectic. Video evidence of the missing Alice Lowland had materialized, passed online from one anonymous user to another via obscure file-sharing websites, discussion forums, and word-of-mouth, and already the local news outlet had released the footage. Admittedly, the segment was minor, throwaway filler in-between sports and national happenings, particularly the upcoming election, and the story alone wasn't newsworthy for a wider audience, but stations in Portland and as far as Seattle had caught wind of the deepening mystery. Viewership was key, and predatory journalist had come a-calling in search of short-lived sensationalism.

Sheriff Coffers had maintained his professional demeanor but only just.

The only solace was that the hacks would lose interest eventually to gawk at something else.

"No, I can't release a statement on an ongoing investigation," he says, telephone receiver held up to his ear. He nods a bit as the man on the other end speaks, attempting to weasel out a morsel of information, but the sheriff maintains that his hands are tied, and that no comment is forthcoming, hanging up the moment the man's tone goes abusive. He sighs, the feeling of a soon-to-be headache clawing its way out his temples.

Respite is fleeting as a knock comes moments later.

"Come in."

The door opens and Logan McAllister peeks his head inside. Young, not yet thirty, clean-shaven with an aquiline nose, brown hair cut short, and piercing eyes the colour of watered mud. He's dressed in uniform: black pants and a white top and the accompanying ornamentation pinned to his chest. "Sir, a detective wants to see you."

This catches him by surprise. "Detective? You talking 'bout Holton."

The sheriff, by comparison, looks his age, with a thick mustache and thinning hair, but is powerfully built despite the beginnings of a gut and wrinkles. Looks as one would imagine a rural sheriff.

McAllister shakes his head. "No, sir. Come up from Portland. State PD."

"Hell they want?"

"The disappearance. Alice Lowland. Oh, by the way, Jacob Wilson is here, too."

The sheriff grumbles as he picks himself up from his chair to follow the officer out to the main lobby. The receptionist, Cathy Mills, is sitting behind the desk, and across it stands the city-slicker detective and Jacob Wilson.

He approaches the detective — with McAllister remaining behind the desk — and shakes hands. "Sheriff Coffers." A pause to allow an introduction. "You wanted to see me 'bout the missing girl? Figured State would have better things to do than worry about a runaway." He glances over to Jacob with obvious annoyance. "And you, why're you here? Ain't I seen you enough?"

by **The Knockout Gun Gals** » Tue Aug 21, 2018 7:13 am

Alexandra O'Loughlin
Silver Lake

"Snap!"

She heard it. The sound, someone, or something, behind her. "Hey! Wait up!" she shouted, called out to the figure, who ran away in the process. Damn, he was fast. The lake itself is pretty empty, save from the lake itself. Probably fishes underwater, but she figured out that either she paid someone to swim (expensive but safer) or swim by herself (much less expensive, though she requires proper equipment, and less safer), but she'd think about it later. The town is small and not very expensive, and her bank account is enough for 2 months. Hopefully not 2 months, though.

The lake proved to be fruitless, and she knows there's a police station here. She headed to the police station soon after, since she wants information. Her walk to there is a long walk, but eventually she reached the station. She saw some people inside. She entered the station.

by **Dyelli Beybi** » Tue Aug 21, 2018 12:08 pm

Beiarusia wrote:HELEN TOWNSEND
Cedarview High School

School had let out for the weekend. The students do not linger for longer than was absolutely necessary, and some teachers, too, are quick to head on home. Ms Townsend, however, takes her time as she has no appointments to attend or reasons to rush out the door. She isn't married, not anymore, so has no husband awaiting her back home, no children, and her little dog will be fine for a few minutes more alone. The teacher moves at her own pace. Packing her things and tidying up the classroom.

"Have a good weekend," says the old, grizzled janitor as she leaves for the day.

"You too, Bob."

The school building is mostly empty now, the halls quiet save for the distant whispers of after-school activities and the drone of horns in the band room. Ms Townsend heads downstairs to the front entrance. She lives nearby so doesn't see a point in driving so long as the weather is fair, and although the last few days have been cloudy it hasn't yet rained more than a drizzle, so she walks, believing the exercise to be convenient considering she isn't as concerned with fitness as, say, Donna Truelove. Not that she is overweight, and she eats healthy enough, but Ms Townsend is not the sort to partake in morning runs or to own a gym membership. The nearest gym is a town over regardless.

A familiar car is parked on the road near the school, and standing outside it is a familiar woman. Avery Gerhart, the young owner of the local newspaper and who fancies herself a journalist. An unfamiliar man is talking to her.

Ms Townsend slows her pace a tad bit as she approaches the two. She and Avery are about the same height with similarly coloured hair, although her own is graying at the ends, what with her being twice the girl's age. The teacher is dressed in a blouse and black trousers underneath a simple jacket. Her oversized purse is stuffed full of everything she needs for grading papers at home, and the grip of a collapsable umbrella sticks out a bit. All-in-all, Ms Townsend isn't one to stand out.

"Hello, Avery," she greets with her usual soft tone, hoping she isn't interrupting a conversation. "Are you waiting for someone?"

Avery Gerhart
Near Cedarview High

"Ah... hello Ms Townsend." for a brief moment Avery was a teenager again, caught loitering somewhere where she wasn't. Avery had been one of the (relatively) good girls at Cedarview High: athletic and studious if a little prone to getting pulled into trouble if there was a handsome young man involved... but that wasn't her anymore. She was a reporter and she had a job to do. She straightened up, regaining some form of composure, "You know I was Alice Lowland's age when Mary Burke disappeared?" she mused without directly answering the question, "I still remember the searches. How can you ever really have closure unless you know what happened?"

"It strikes me that when Alice disappeared we never did interview her class mates. The paper has limited resources and we mostly followed the police around and then wrote a story about Dan Coffers saving a cat from a tree because that made people feel a bit better and because we didn't want the whole town to spend too long peering into the abyss." she might have made that bit about Dan Coffers up, but it was the kind of human interest story the Herald would have run.

Avery had obviously got a little bit personally involved in the whole affair. The part of her that had driven her into journalism really hated a huge unanswered question... "It's a slow news day, so I thought I would come down here and if anyone had anything they want to say to me, they can. If not, I'll let sleeping dogs lie. I am not in the business of reopening old wounds."

"Anyway..." she said, abruptly switching the topic and turning back to Noah, "I was just about to give this gentleman directions to the Evergreen Inn. I've never stayed there myself but it's the only place in town and I hear its okay."

by **Faal Dovah** » Tue Aug 21, 2018 12:41 pm

Jacob Wilson
Police Station
October 2008

"Michael told me about a video of Alice, and sent me here telling me you could help me with it" Jacob said while taking a drag out of his cigarette.

"Mike sent you? I've told him that we have no such thing as a video of his runaway daughter. And even if I did have, do you think that I'd show it to you?" Daniel said as he turned his attention towards Anthony Burrows.

Jacob turned and whispered to Cathy, mildly upset at Coffers' refusal "Is he always a dick like this?" then resumed a normal tone "Anyway, thank you Cathy" as he extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray that was on the counter and went for the door.

"Have a good one, Jacob!" Cathy said as he left.

As Wilson was about to exit, a familiar woman entered through the door. Jacob recognized her from the Silver Lake, but didn't want to say anything, so he just gave her a long look, then a "Good day" as he walked past her. He insulted Daniel under his breath as he walked towards the Convenience Mart.

by **Kentucky Fried Land** » Tue Aug 21, 2018 9:03 pm

Detective Anthony Burrows
Oregon State Criminal Investigation Division
The Cigarette and Sheriff Coffers

Burrows showed a brief moment of contempt as the man lit up a bastard cigarette to his left, frowning and coughing. “Uh, Portland, actually.” He corrected. “Salem’s down the road, but the department’s in Portland.” He coughed again, backing away from the smoke with red, strained, watering eyes. “You allowed to smoke that in here?” He asked, knowing the answer but cutting at the man regardless. Before he could further the conversation, Coffers stepped in.

The sheriff was about what Anthony had expected.

A fat gullet with a nonexistent head of hair. He was withered yet strong, his accent and tone of a man who wasn’t suffering a mid-life crisis. Too bad this old bastard was undoubtedly soaked in the testosterone and dopamine that forced the longing of old days into his life. Burrows could see that as he shook the man’s hand, grinning like he had just dined on a full-course meal of shit.

“Detective Burrows.” He gripped the man’s hand and shook it heartily before releasing, nodding to the man. “Well, in light of new evidence sir, we’re coming over to look over things. You mind if we talk in your office?”

by **Segral** » Fri Aug 24, 2018 12:38 pm

Phil Deacon
Evergreen Inn

The Inn was a bit more packed than normal, something that did give Phil some joy. After all, the Inn had been struggling for a little while due to lack of customers, so it was good to have some new blood coming in through the doors. Plus, it always put his parents, especially his dad, in a good mood, and they were fun people in a good mood. Hopefully, the business kept going for a little while, maybe the Evergreen could finally expand a bit with some new amenities. Nothing crazy, maybe some better Internet and TV, a few kitchenettes. Might attract some new tourism, you never knew.

Of course, this was all wishful thinking. It was just a few customers, two or three extra customers wouldn't afford any extra amenities. It was a small inn, fares were cheap, and luxury was hard to come by in Cedarview. That was that. No matter how much he wanted to believe it, it would be a long time before the inn became anymore luxuries.

So, it was better that he quit daydreaming and do the work.

Dad had just sent him around to fix a lightbulb in Room 005, one that had been faulty for the last few days. He was too busy draining and getting the pool covered up, he didn't have time for tiny repairs. Phil had been helping him, but he had sent him in to go fix the bulb, and you didn't argue with Dad, especially when he was at work.

Heading around the corner with his tool box swinging from his fist, he quickly saw that Room 005 was in the process of being moved into. This would make things more complicated for sure. He could wait, but Dad would lose his mind if he saw the light bulb was still broken. Maybe the guy wouldn't mind.

"Erm...hello?" he asked somewhat timidly, walking over and tapping the man on the shoulder. "My name's Phil, I'm the handyman and custodian here. There's a faulty lightbulb...oh my god." he trailed off, upon seeing the logo on the man's jacket. "Y-you're from that show, aren't you?! "Into Thin Air"? Christ, there's a reality TV dude here...what do I do?" he muttered to himself wildly, running his hand through his messy hair.

"Er...sorry about that." he said, recollecting himself. "Anyways, there's a faulty lightbulb in your room...sir. Do you mind if I go in and check it, I promise I'll only be a couple minutes...holy crap, I'm going into a TV star's room."

by **Main Nation Ministry** » Fri Aug 24, 2018 7:31 pm

Horton Kinniman
Off-Camera

As Horton was moving his stuff into his motel room, a repairman tapped his shoulder from behind to tell him about a faulty light bulb in his room. It wasn't until the repairman started to behave like an eager fan was when Horton began to grin a bit. The repairman was skinny, despite wearing large clothing. He seemed to be around the same age as Horton. "I didn't know that my show was being shown here. Go ahead, if you think the light bulb is going to be a big issue with me." Horton step aside to let the repairman enter his room to fix the problem. Did other people know of Into Thin Air? If so, his show was actually more popular than he thought.

When You Find Me (Horror / Mystery) (IC / OPEN)

When You Find Me (Horror / Mystery) (IC / OPEN)

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