"So that's why you kicked Lyra and that other girl out," asked Stirling. She was sitting with Dennis in his office. On the desk between them was two Styrofoam cups of coffee, and a box of half-finished donuts. "They got into a fight with your new neighbors who were trying to steal your horse.
"Yeah Stirling," said Dennis, who still sat nervous in his chair, coffee in his non-bandaged hand. "I didn't tell anybody because I don't want this attention. Two girls who are the daughters of a rich computer tycoon caught stealing from a neighbor. It's just not good for business."
"Don't worry," said Stirling, a genuine smile on her face. "I won't tell anyone, since you don't seem to be pressing charges." She pulled out a pen and a black police notepad, and began taking notes. "So let me see if I have all the details," she said opening the notepad.
"These girls names are Lyra Hart, and Bonnie Sweets."
"Yes."
"They are students from Stony Brook, and they live in Brookhaven, at least according to the info you gave me."
"Yes."
"They showed up, and gave you your fee in advance, in cash, and they weren't carrying a credit card, nor did you ask them for one."
"Uh, Yes," said Dennis, reluctantly.
"You didn't think that might be suspicious," said Stirling, incredulously.
"I didn't think they were crooks, and I don't know why you are so suspicious of them."
"Well, I told you how the scanner was missing right."
"Yes."
"Well the leads the FBI gave me were unusually random. I ran around town going to seemingly random places, none of them remotely relating to a radiation detecting scanner," uttered Stirling, the last three words coming out like a pre-programmed machine. "But a motel in the middle of nowhere would appear to be the only place that a thief would go to." She put the coffee cup down on the table.
"Well," Dennis replied ," I can see your reason there, and they are astronomy students." Dennis got up and walked to the tan filing cabinet in the far right corner of the room. He pulled out a file reading "Customer Data." " I keep tabs on all my early customers," Dennis uttered as he put the file on the table, "here is the info I have on them, names, addresses, licence plate number," he pulled out a detailed copy of a check-in form, and put in front of Stirling. She looked at it shocked at the unusual questions.
"You asked them for blood types" she asked incredulously.
"Emergencies happen," replied Dennis, in a matter-of-fact tone, "but it was optional.
"Favorite color?"
"An important detail when judging an individuals personality."
"I know," said Dennis ," I just want to run a good business, so I ask for this info."
"And you didn't ask for a credit card number?"
"Cash on the table is a good deal for a motel owner."
"Alright," she said, putting check-in forms into her shirt ," I will take this info."
"You actually think these girls have something to do with this," asked Dennis.
"I don't know," muttered Stirling ," nothing the FBI is doing is making any real sense. I'll see you around Dennis," she got up from the chair, and began walking out of his office. Dennis soon followed her out the door to his car. He walked until he saw a few feet away, Crystal, her hat hanging limp from hat, about to fall off, had walked out of the barn.
"Hold on Stirling," said Dennis running from Stirling, "I got get Crystal back into the barn.
"Sure," Stirling waved her hand at him ," it's fine get her back in there." She took a look at Dennis running back to the barn at stared at the barn.
"I bet the lead paint is even older than the barn itself," Stirling joked to herself, chuckling. She began to walk to her police car when she saw another police car pull up. The car was a black sedan, with darkened windows, which only added to the mystery and intrigue that stopped Stirling from entering her vehicle. Two figures who had been barely visible in the darkened windows stepped out. Two men got out, both of varying sizes, but with an oddly matching of dark suits, sunglasses, and black ties. One was slightly below average height, somewhat tanned skin, and shaven chestnut. The other one was tall (at least seven inches taller than the other man), shaven blond hair, and was built like a brick wall, and looked like he played for the Jets. Yet in spite of the strength that was implied by his size, he looked like he was edging behind the much shorter man.
"Hello," said the short man holding out a badge,"Agent McCarty of the FBI," he looked back toward Michaels ,"this is Agent Michaels."
"Officer Hannah Stirling of Saratoga County Sheriff's Office," replied Stirling, her tone just slightly under sarcastic ," we spoke over the phone."
"Oh yeah," McCarty realized, "we did. I see you followed the lead we gave you here to the Upstate Inn. What did you find."
"Nothing, I was just visiting a friend," replied Stirling, a big sneer on her face.
"In your uniform." McCarty was either incredulous or seemed to be looking at more than Stirling's uniform, but to her, it was obvious that she wasn't buying it,
"He invited me for lunch."
"Oh I see," said McCarty, "you're familiar with this man."
"Yeah," said Michaels ,"are you-,"
"Michaels, go play with the radio and let the adults talk," said McCarty.
"But Sir-,"
"Go," and Michaels walked away like a child that felt left out. He noticed Dennis was walking out of his barn, and was walking toward the two.
"Can I help you," asked Dennis, approaching the FBI Agent.
"Agent McCarty, FBI, are you Dennis Sadnik?"
"Yes."
"Can I have a look around your property?"
"Why?"
"Classified information."
"What do you mean classified-"
"McCarty," Michaels uttered, exiting the car. Dennis was stunned by the appearance of Michaels, and his gargantuan size. "He could play for the Jets," Dennis muttered to himself.
"Agent," whispered Michaels, "something came up on the radio."
"What?"
"Just check it," whined Michaels.
"Excuse us," uttered McCarty before going back to the Sedan, as Dennis and Stirling stood by each other and watched.
"What is going on," whispered Dennis to Stirling.
-
"What," asked McCarty, as he got back into the driver's seat.
"There's an agent Johnson who wanted to speak to you." McCarty hushed up, and turned the small dials on the radio.
"Johnson," said McCarty ,"this is McCarty what is it."
"It vanished," said a crackled voice over the radio. "The Fifth State over Greenfield, it stopped flowing."
"What," a shocked McCarty asked. Michaels too who seemed to lie back in his chair in a sort of a daze, sat up straight, having been shocked by what he had read in the document about the mysterious substance. Its' disappearance could only mean big trouble, possibly for the owner of the property. His expression ceased when Agent McCarty got out of the car.
"Agent," inquired Michaels, "where are-,"
"Stay in here and keep the seat warm," replied McCarty, causing agent Michaels to slide back into his seat.
-
"Mr. Sadnik," McCarty approached Dennis in a charismatic matter, "we are sorry for having disturbed you, but I am required back at the office. I must leave you," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white card, " but please call us if you see anything," he finished. Dennis took the card, uneasily from him, and stared at it, McCarty turned around and walked away. "Oh and Stirling," continued McCarty, quickly turning his head back, a sick grin on his face, startling Dennis, "go with guys your own age." He turned his head back, just avoiding the deep glare that was forming on Stirling's face, who until then, had been silent.
"That's Officer Stirling to you," she screamed, but McCarty continued to walk on, ignoring his reaction. He got back into the car, and drove away, leaving a confused Dennis and a seething Stirling.
"I don't like that guy," said Dennis in half-hearted tone, but Stirling continued to fry in anger.
"Stirling I really think you need to chill," said Dennis.
"But," replied Stirling, in a tone that reminded Dennis of an angry teenage girl, whom he knew personally ,"he said-,"
"No Stella," uttered Dennis in a parent talking to a child tone, causing Stirling to wince ,"you're gonna act like 30 year old, not in girl's locker room, and turn the other cheek, or should I talk to Helmsley." Stirling took a deep breath, and calmed down, the threat of her superior scaring her anger away. Dennis returned to his own thoughts and wondered what the implications of such a visitor were. "First my neighbors try to take away my little pony, than you come in and start interrogating me, and now the FBI?" he wondered this aloud. "What do they want?"
"I don't know," muttered Stirling. "What do they want," asked Stirling. "Who knows, maybe it's all a conspiracy to cover up strange lifeforms or something," she joked. Dennis ignored the comment, but turned toward his barn, and his neutral mode went into a calm inner panic, as he remembered what had been happening to Crystal. "I'll she you around Dennis," exclaimed Stirling before playfully punching Dennis in the shoulder, who was lost in a sea of anxiety. Stirling turned around and walked back to the car, but suddenly realized Dennis had been awfully quiet. "Dennis you've been-," she turned around before seeing an overweight run straight up the hill, in a panic. She wondered what, before finally decided she had seen Dennis enough and decided to go back to the station. She got back in her cruiser, quietly, but couldn't help but feel strange thoughts reverberating through out her mind.
'Is he a friend, is he a dad, is he a brother, or is he really my boy-, no, how dare make me think that !'
Stirling rattled her head to get rid of the annoying thoughts and drove off, but not before seeing Dennis clamber into his barn.
-
In Greenfield there was only one veterinarian for livestock. Dr. Norman Cheval was that veterinarian. He was also the only veterinarian in town. Period. Thus when you saw the white square sign with dark green font on his lawn that said ," The Best Vet in Town," he wasn't stroking his ego, he was telling the truth. In a way. He was recognizable by his white coat, his crew cut brown head, and large brown beard. In fact, patients would always joke that he was the hairiest creature in the clinic. He would laugh it off, but somehow the patients always had their premiums doubled. Currently he was sitting on his desk, doing work, or at least that it what he told his wife.
"Oh Kent," said the actress on his TV," I wish I could fall for you, but something prevents me."
"What," asked the actor and Dr. Cheval at the same time in a dramatic voice ," what prevents that, Elise?"
"The doctor called," said Elise ," I had a cramp in my leg."
"No," screamed the actor known as Kent, as did Dr. Cheval, who grabbed the television in despair ,"no don't Elise." Tears began to fall down his eyes on to the screen. "We'll get through this," he said to the screen. The door slammed open, and Cheval jumped to switch of the TV.
"Dr. Cheval," said the lady who opened the door, in a panicked tone.
"What," screamed Dr. Cheval, "what," he lowered his voice ",is it?"
"There's a patient here to see you," said the lady in the pink blouse and white skirt.
"Does he have an appointment," asked Dr. Cheval, taking his feet off the desk.
"No, but..."
"Let me talk to him Justine," said the man being blocked by Justine. He was panicking. "Let me through."
"Oh here we go," said Dr. Cheval. "I'll talk him." He paused. "You didn't see anything," asked Dr. Cheval accusingly.
"No Dr. Cheval I didn't see you watching soap operas again."
"Good." The lady walked away revealing a panicky middle aged man. Normally, seeing a panicking man in a vet's office would mean a cute little bunny was in critical condition and would need intensive care. Unless of course, you knew Dennis Sadnik and his pony emergencies.
"Norman," said Dennis running into the office. "I need your help."
"For the fifth time Dennis," said Dr. Cheval ," you are supposed to make an appointment."
"Norman this can't wait," uttered Dennis desperate.
"I don't care if that horse won't drink from water, you need to make-,"
"I'm telling this can't wait. If you just saw," continued Dennis.
"No, I am busy, and I can't deal with people who feel they can barge in at any time."
"Please," asked Dennis.
"No," Cheval replied, hardly moving his head.
"Please."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Please," moaned Dennis, in a dramatic fashion. A silent pause held in the room. Dennis didn't drop his fearful face, nor did Dr. Cheval drop his stoic face. Dennis reached into his wallet and pulled out a bill. "20 dollars?"
"No."
"40?" Another pause held.
"Okay."
-
The two men approached Dennis' horse trailer. It was a grey thing shaped like an 1950s radio, with lines along the side, a curve toward its' roof, and small but not so clear viewing port. and a lead coated exterior. People could only see the silhouette of the horse through the old window. Dennis always told people he bought it an auction in St. Albans, Vermont. To this day, no one knows what he was doing in St. Albans, Vermont, but people knew it was a personal matter, since he drove there with his old Chevelle, as he always would. Indeed he had drove their today, so it meant things were serious. Today was a very personally matter indeed. They both walked quietly but in different ways. Dr. Cheval was passive and indifferent, while Dennis was quiet like a mouse trying to get away from the cat. But seeing the Chevelle, Dr. Cheval knew something was going on. Still his face remained stoic.
"Okay Dennis, show me what's inside," said Dr. Cheval. He saw Dennis open the doors to the trailer, and noticed his bandaged hand, for the first time. "Hey Dennis, what happened to your hand?" Dennis ignored the question and opened the doors to his trailer, the end that closest to the window." Inside was a brown pony. Bars near the door blocked Crystal in case she tried to make an escape. But that wasn't the thing confusing Dr. Cheval. Atop the head of the pony with dark black eyes was a top hat.
"Why is the pony wearing a top hat," Dennis continued to ignore, and reached for the hat on Crystal's head, who was now shaking her head and whinnying like crazy.
"Hold still Crystal," cooed Dennis ," I'm sure Cheval can help us." He pulled the hat off, and suddenly, Cheval's world went white.