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askwhat this is about?”

“It's a personal matter.”

Doris looked Allen up and down. “I see,” she said. “If youleave your contact information, I'll have Mr. Jordan give you a call when hereturns.”

“I'd like to speak with him now, if that's at all possible.”

The smile left Doris's face. Her tolerance level was verylow. “I've already explained to you that Mr. Jordan is not in the office,” shesaid sternly. “If you leave your—”

“I heard you the first time lady.” Allen stepped closer tothe desk. “Now, get Jordan on the phone right now.” Allen stepped even closer.

Doris reached inside the top drawer of her desk and pulledout a revolver. “Take one more step in this direction, shit stain, and I'llblow your goddamn head off.” She pulled back the hammer.

“Whoa!” Allen said. “I'm not here to cause any trouble.”

“Then you're using the wrong tone of voice.”

“Listen,” Allen said calmly, “it's very important I speak withJordan. If you could give him a call and let him know it's about the piece ofpaper he was looking for the other day, I'm sure he'll want to speak with me.”

“Piece of paper, you say?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Sit,” she said, pointing the barrel of her of her .44across the desk at one of the chairs, “and keep your mouth shut.”

Allen did as he was ordered. Doris kept the weapon trainedon him as she dialed the phone, pressed the speaker button, and placed thehandset back in the cradle.

“What's going on, Doris?” Bobby answered.

“You're on speaker, Mr. Jordan. That writer's here. He hasthe paper.”

“I don't have it,” said Allen.

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Doris reminded him.

“Allen?” said Jordan.

“Yeah, Bobby, it's me.”

“You know where the paper is?” Jordan asked.

“I think I might.”

“You think you might.”

“Yes.”

Jordan groaned. “I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Can you tell Doris to put away the gun please?”

Jordan chuckled. “She'll put it away when she's ready.” Hehung up.

Allen sat still in the chair for a few minutes, afraid tospeak. Finally he asked, “Are you ready yet?”

“Nope.”

Allen sighed. “Can you at least release the hammer?”

Doris thought about it for a second. “Yeah, I guess,” shereplied. “My hands aren't as steady as they once were, and we wouldn't wantanother accident.” With her thumb she released the hammer.

“Accident?” Allen asked.

With a nod of her head, Doris motioned behind Allen. Heturned around to see that one of the 6”x8” glass panes had been replaced with apiece of cardboard. The repair job was eye level to where Allen now sat. Heswallowed hard, as he inspected the wall and ceiling for blood spatter.

*****

Fifteen minutes turned into a half hour; finally, BobbyJordan walked through the front door. He was holding a slice of pizza in hisleft hand.

“… and that's why I became a writer,” Allen said, finishingthe one-sided conversation he and Doris were having. She still held therevolver. Allen was oblivious to the fact she looked like she wanted to shootherself with it.

“Wow, that's fascinating,” said Doris in a weary monotone,slipping the gun into the drawer. “I'll be sure to look for your books the nexttime I'm at the Book Warehouse.”

“Thanks, I'm flattered,” said Allen, beaming.

“Good afternoon, Crane,” said Jordan. “Right this way.”

Allen rose and followed Jordan into the hall and through adoor on the right. Jordan sat down and put his feet up on his desk. Allensurveyed the room. It was the same white walls, ceiling, and trim as thereception area. There was no curtain on the one window in the room. To say itwas nothing fancy would be an under-statement. It didn't really look to Allenlike this was an office where Jordan spent much of his time.

“Close the door behind you, Crane.”

Allen did as he was told.

“Take a load off,” Jordan said.

Allen sat down in the only other chair in the room, a metalfolding chair.

“Nice chair,” Allen said. “Is this real metal?”

Jordan shook his finger at Allen. “You're a funny guy,Crane. Now, where's that paper?”

“I don't know.”

“You said you had it.”

“No, I told Doris I had information about it.”

Jordan scratched his head. “If you don't have it, or atleast know where it is, then how do you even know it exists?”

“I guessed.”

“Guessed? Guessed about what?”

“That it was a piece of paper you were looking for when youcame to my motel room last week.”

“You guessed right. What do you want, a prize?”

“No, I just want to know where Jacob Palmer is.”

“Who?”

“Jacob Palmer.”

“Do I know him?”

“He's the boy who's missing.”

“Oh yeah. I heard something about that. Found him deadbehind the high school, or something.”

“That was Oliver, a friend of Jacob's, and it was theelementary school.”

“Then who's Jacob?”

“He's the other boy that went missing. The two boys weretogether. You met Jacob in my motel room last week.”

Jordan snapped his fingers. “The dog walker!”

“Yes, the dog walker.”

“I liked that kid. What about him?”

“Where is he?”

“How the hell would I know? I'm a lot of things, Crane, butI ain't no kiddie toucher.”

“I didn't think you were,” Allen said. “Listen, Jordan, Ihaven't told the cops what I know, and I won't. I just want the boy back. Iwon't say a word to anyone. I swear on my life.”

“Want the boy back? Won't say a word? A word about what? So,I came to your room looking for a sheet of paper. That's not exactly a felony,Crane. I'll be the first to admit, I ain't the sharpest bulb in the crayon box,but tryin' to figure out what you're talking about is giving me a headache.”

“You don't know where Jacob is?”

“No!”

Allen sighed and slumped down in the chair.

“Start from the beginning, Crane. What made you think I knewthe whereabouts of that kid?”

“Because I thought the boys disappearance had something todo with the paper, and if it did, that would mean it had something to do withyou.”

“A little less confusing, but why would them kids goin'missin' have anything to do with that paper?”

“Because, Mya Duffy remembered seeing Jacob and Oliver atStones Throw the same day you, Vinny, and I were there. She saw them under thedeck, below the seating area. They were looking at a piece of paper. She chasedthem

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