Page 60 of Being Lost

“Hey, Cad. How you doing, Brother…? Yeah, me too…. I was getting nowhere either until Prez made a suggestion. Superimpose the plans… you doing it…? Yeah. That’s right. Lost mentioned there could be a tunnel involved…” Token breaks off and looks at Lost. “Drug smuggling?”

Lost nods. “Likely,” he replies.

“Yeah.” Token’s speaking back into the phone. “Smuggling anyway. Maybe even girls if that article’s connected in any way… Yeah. If this was Phil’s insurance, there’s something here that Alder didn’t want him to have... Yeah… Keep digging, okay. Speak later, Brother.”

I read the article again. Nothing sparks any memory at all. I turn toward Lost. “You think Alder had anything to do with the disappearance of these girls, and that Phil knew about it?”

“It’s possible,” Lost says, sighing out the words. “Could Phil have been involved?”

“No.” It doesn’t take me long to come up with an answer. “Twenty years back, he might have been dabbling in stuff for Alder, but that would have been to do with his accounts. He might have found out about something which he could hold over his brother-in-law, but I’m certain he wasn’t getting his hands that dirty at that point.”

“This is all we got.” Lost’s lips press together momentarily. “Any connecting information died along with Phil.” He takes the printout from my hand and looks at it himself.

“I haven’t been able to track it back.” Token shakes his head, his brow creasing as if in some way he’s failed. “It’s a scanned photocopy. I can’t even tell where in the country it is, what newspaper it might be, or what the original story was. No date either. All we know is it’s at least twenty-two years old, not even whether the girls turned up or not.”

“The girls aren’t even named,” I point out.

“There’s not much to go on.” Token shrugs. “I’ve been running traces but so far nothing’s turned up.”

“No mention of the school either. Sloppy reporting.”

“Or there’s more.” Leaning over I tap the bottom of the page. “The article isn’t complete, maybe the detail wasn’t important.”

“Or, maybe that’s the important bit that’s missing.” Lost is shaking his head.

“Can I see that again?” Lost passes it over to me.

I stare at it and then look up at the string of letters and numbers on the screen. I read, a lot. Before I got hooked on MC novels, I read crime, mysteries and suspense. I also have the benefit of being the ex-wife of the man who left this article there. Mentally I add up the number of lines on the page. Then, glance back at the screen.

Feeling eyes burning into me, I look up to see Token staring, a focused look on his face. “Whatcha got, Patsy?”

Raising and lowering my shoulders, I feel a bit crazy. Surely it wouldn’t be as easy as that? I’m embarrassed to let them know what I’m thinking.

“At this point, I’m stumped,” Token admits. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“Rather follow a red herring than none at all,” Lost encourages from my side.

Grimacing slightly, I let them in on my thoughts. “Phil was intrigued by codes. Used to read about that enigma machine, you know? The one used in World War II. He devoured anything he could read about it. What if these strings of numbers are code, and this article is the key?”

Token’s eyes go wide. “You think?” He calls up the image of the article and loads it on one monitor.

“There are fifty-three lines on this page. The biggest number on the plans is fifty-three.”

Token looks carefully, comparing both. “There’s no pattern that I can see. Sure, here, look? That could be a line number, what the word begins with, then the number of letters in, but the next one doesn’t fit the same pattern.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was worth a try.” Lost takes hold of my hand and gives it a comforting squeeze.

“No, Patsy. I think you’ve got something here. I’ve been chasing my tail trying to find the origin of the article, and I couldn’t see how it could be an insurance policy with no names, places or dates. So what else could it be? A fuckin’ key.”

Lost looks from me to Token, then back again. “Your birthdate,” he snaps, impatiently. “Phil’s too, and Beth and Dan’s.”

Token grabs a pen and writes them down as I recite them off, adding the date of Phil’s sister’s for good measure.

“Wedding day?” Token asks.

I tell him that too, whereas I normally try to forget the hastily organised affair before my pregnancy had begun to show.

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