Their first date had been at Julio's. Thomas remembered how nervous he had been, and how cool Esmeralda had looked. He had been certain that he had messed that date up. He had rambled on about cows and horses, and had not asked a single question. He had completely forgotten, and he had cursed himself the rest of that night. And yet, she had sent him a text the next morning that she had enjoyed their date quite a lot.

He remembered how their second date was so perfect. The way Esmeralda had laughed at his inability to throw rocks on the water. The way they had laughed while picnicking on a blanket next to the White River bank. How he had held her soft hand-,

"-mas. Thomas!" Julio called. The farmer pulled his eyes from the bottom of the beer bottle and looked up at the dark skinned man.

"What did you say?" His words were slurred, both from the alcohol and the abrupt interruption of his mind's safe haven. He was still smiling at the memory.

"I think it's time for you to go home, Gonzalez. If there is one thing I've learned in my many years of bartending, it's that alcohol only brings back ghosts. And that never helps anyone."

Julio was a good man with great advice, he might as well be the local psychologist. Yet, his advice lately stung.

Thomas slid from his bar chair, almost falling over. He regained his balance after the sudden adrenaline kick. It was enough for Thomas to find his way outside the bar.

Once outside, a cold breeze made him remember his jacket which he forgot inside. When he turned around he was startled at the man standing behind him. Thomas stumbled backwards and tripped over his feet. Before he painfully crashed on his backside, Julio caught his upper arm and pulled him back up.

"You forgot this," Julio sighed. "Seriously, go home, Thomas, and don't wander off. The last person I want to see get hurt is you."

The native American man helped the young farmer put on his jacket before he gave him a comforting shoulder pat. Thomas shuffled over the cobblestone path that led to his empty house.

"Oh that poor dear. It's so sad to see him still broken," two women Thomas couldn't recognize in the dark murmured to each other when he passed. "He was such a sweetheart, always helping me carry my bags home. It's sad to see him like that, just a shell of who he was."

Not that it mattered to him, they could have easily been talking about somebody else. When the rushing water of the White River dominated the distant sounds of the town, another person interrupted his walk home.

Mayor Lucas Devon was not the man Thomas wanted to face. First, he reminded Thomas of Luna, his daughter that was one of the victims. Second, he was never a particularly big fan of the man. His wife on the other hand, he liked. She organised the most fun gatherings and social activities in town. She had been a great help in the planning of his big day ... She was charismatic in a way that was natural, whereas with her husband it had always felt forced. It always felt like he was there against his will, because he was born into the job and had no other choice but to lead this town.

The suited man stepped up to the farmer, and Mayor Devon cleared his throat before he spoke.

"You live at the end of the street, right?"

Thomas snorted, like mayor Devon didn't know who he was and where he lived. He was certain everyone knew where he lived. They had all been invited to his wedding.

"Let me help you, people shouldn't walk alone at night with everything that is happening."

The man led Thomas the rest of the street. Both of them stayed quiet, until Mayor Devon broke the silence once more.

"I understand what you're going through. It's hard, losing someone you love. My wife and I are still struggling as well. She doesn't sleep at night, and keeps cleaning Luna's room. If you're interested and if you think it might help, you can always come to one of the group meetings at Julio's bar on Tuesday night."

Thomas's chest seemed to cave in. He pulled away from the mayor and shook his head.

"I'm fine."

He didn't need group sessions. He didn't want to be his old self, that version of him was gone. People needed to face the fact that their favourite help was out of office. All Thomas wanted to do was figure out who was behind all of this. Just not today. Today he still had to visit Esmeralda.

***

The house was just as cold as the night before, the only difference being that there was light shining from the living room. He frowned. Did he leave the light on this morning?

On his couch sat a middle aged man dressed in a loose white work shirt under his green overalls. On his feet he wore brown leather boots with mud stains all over them. If the man didn't already look like the typical farmer, the straw hat took away all remaining doubts.

He was reading a local magazine, and looked up when Thomas entered. His smile disappeared when he noticed Thomas's state.

"You've been drinking again."

Thomas grunted, flopped into the couch next to his father and closed his eyes from the yellow light.

"I heard you've been hanging around the station again. You can't be sittin' and drinkin' around all day, son. It's a waste of time, what do you think this waiting will do for you? Bring your girl back? I can assure you, it won't," the old man sighed. He had done this so many times already. This speech had almost become a daily ritual. "Go to the fields tomorrow, help your old man out with the animals. They need to be fed. When that is done, you can go back to the police station and ask if they know anything more."

The old man was a spitting image of Thomas. He had grey hair instead of the chestnut brown of Thomas, but those clear cheekbones and that sharp jawline were identical. Only his beautiful emerald eyes were inherited from his mother. His father had warm chocolate brown eyes like Mario's, which was another reason why people had easily mistaken Mario for Thomas' older brother.

Garett stood up from the couch and put his hand on his son's shoulder: "Don't throw away your life for her. I know this is hard to get, but she's gone and you need to learn how to move on. You won't do that by sitting in a police station waiting for a magical sign that will never come. It won't come from booze. Stand up, do your work and enjoy the life that you still have, she will be grateful that at least one of you can still experience it."

The old man had a puckered forehead and slightly knitted brows that went together with a small sad smile. It was clear as day that Garett loved him very much and was torn apart by his struggles. Thomas's head fell down, he stared at the ground with puffy eyes and a lump in his throat. He hated to feel like this. He hated crying. Why didn't it just go away? Like always, he stood up, swallowed away the lump in his throat and blinked the dampness from his eyes. Finally, he pulled his shoulders backwards and held his chin high.

"Make sure you're on time, old man. Tomorrow, we've got work to do."

A new fire behind his words. A fire that he knew would be burned out by tomorrow morning. Garett's lips quickly turned upwards before he followed his son to the front door. He patted his son's shoulder, but eventually pulled him into a quick hug.

"You'll get there," he whispered, "I love you, son," before he let go and disappeared into the night.

***

After getting dressed in his work clothes the next morning, which consisted of a moss green plaid button front and a white t-shirt with jeans and heavy leather boots, Thomas walked up the hill that stretched out to the forest side that covered the horizon of the western hilltops.

The dozen cows that were settled in the far stretching meadow that the young farmer was crossing were mooing in happiness. It was probably for the fresh food Thomas was carrying and not specifically for his presence after his long leave, but it didn't matter, his dad was right, doing his day-to-day job was helping him clear up his mood.

His smile grew bigger when the baby cows came close and wrapped their tongues around in the buckets filled with a mixture of grass hay, grains, corn and grass silage.

"Take it easy, little ones. There is plenty enough for everyone."

He pushed himself through the gathering cows towards the food container on the north fence of the field. Thomas tipped the buckets and pushed his way through the hungry animals. He laughed at their impatience and for the first time in a very long time, there wasn't a dark cloud looming over his head.

He turned around, away from the herd. A joyful humming echoed over the open field. If Esmeralda could've seen him now, she would've laughed, carefree.

There, in the meadow on the hill, there were no blaring car honks, there was a gentle breeze and the mooing of the cows. He was close to the tree line of the forest, where the western mountain hill got steeper, the deeper you went into the forest. The forest here was softer than the one on the eastern side, there were more deciduous trees here and an extra layer of low growing plants.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw a shadow move back into the dark of the forest. Thomas wasn't entirely certain he had seen it correctly, but all doubt was washed away when he heard the clear crushing of beech nuts under the spy's feet.

Even in the darkness of the forest shadows, Thomas could see the little spy long enough to identify the dark red hair.

He blinked his eyes in disbelief, questioned himself more than once in those few seconds that the girl stared back at him. They stood there with their eyes glued to each other.

"Luna?!" Thomas's sceptical voice blared over the remaining distance.

The young spy turned on her heels and sprinted back inside the forest. Thomas was right behind her before he realized he had started running.