I wake up sometime after midday.

              On a normal mundane day, I would have journaled about the warm summer sun, the fresh green leaves swaying gently to the rhythm of the breeze, and my time away from the comforts of my one bedroom apartment so far.

               On this particular day, I spring out of the bed, rummage through my bag for toiletries and take a quick shower. I slip into the only other pair of jeans I packed and put on a black sweatshirt with the words I AM TIRED OF THE CITY printed on it in white.

               To act the role of a naive tourist better, I shoulder my backpack and fix a capture camera clip on one of its strap to keep Andy’s DSLR in place. If anything happens to it in my possession, I am to suffer the consequences. Andy’s precise words.

               Once set, I head downstairs to look for her, dreading her impending lecture on my substandard work ethic. So I have mixed feelings when she is nowhere to be seen.

               I stop at the reception desk. “Hey, Kevin. Have you seen the girl I was with last night?”

               Kevin looks up from his phone screen and nods. “She uh, she left around ten. Asked me to remind you this getaway is supposed to be an experiment for you too.”

               Of course she did.

               Up the street, a neon sign glows. BARNEY’S.

               I thank Kevin and leave for the diner.

               Barney’s is your typical open 24/7 local hangout destination. The smell of freshly baked bread, coffee, and fried eggs invade my senses when I enter. Most of the tables are empty, which makes sense given the time of the day. There is an old couple chewing without talking at a corner booth, and a man with a long beard and ponytail sitting by himself at the counter. A gum-chewing waitress is leaning against the counter, watching TV on mute. She gives me a once over.

               “Just you?” she asks. Her voice is scratchy and rough. I nod. “Pick any table you want, honey.”

               I slip in a booth by the window. Resting my backpack against my leg under the table with one hand, I open a plastic menu with the other.

               “You new in town?” The waitress’s voice in my ear makes me jump. She eyes the camera. Through her caked-on makeup I can see the shadow of a black eye. Her mouth never stops working on her gum.

               “Yeah.” I read her name tag. Sarah. “I arrived last night.”

               The chewing stops. “Where are you staying?”

               “The Nest.”

               Sarah raises her eyebrows and drops her chin to look at me. “What brings you to Franklin?”

               I point at the words on my sweatshirt. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Her teeth starts in again on the gum. “Whatcha wanna eat, honey?”

               “Toast and scrambled eggs,” I close the menu. “And a strong cup of coffee, please.”

               The corners of her mouth curl up in what is probably supposed to be a smile. “Your order will be ready in ten minutes.”

                My stomach growls and flops while I wait. It is empty, but it isn’t exactly hungry. I reach into my pocket for my phone and turn it on. When three little bar appear in the upper right corner of the screen, I try refreshing my inbox, but my internet connection is not working.

                “Excuse me?” I try getting the attention of the guy who was drying glasses on the other side of the counter. He had his back to me. “Can I get the WiFi password, please?”

               “It’s on the back of the menu.” Sarah bumps out the kitchen door with a plate of food and a cup of coffee. “Here you go, honey.” She slides the plate and coffee in front of me before disappearing back into the kitchen.

               I suck back a shot of the hot, black stuff and connect to the diner’s WiFi. There are a few emails from work and one from Alison, the girl I mistook for my ‘the one’. That was seven months ago.

               Ignoring the notifications, I help myself with the food which surprisingly tastes good. Five minutes later, a new text from Richard flashes on the screen: Keep me updated.

               And snap—there goes my appetite. Reading his text brings me back to the reality that I am not on a getaway. I am here for work. I dig into the pocket of my sweats, find a ten dollar bill, and place it on the table before leaving the diner.

               The remainder of the day goes by in a blur. I never thought getting the locals to talk about the case would be so difficult. Whenever I tried broaching the subject, the other person would freak out and excuse themselves. I had nine people blow me off, before a man in trucker’s clothes finally agreed to make a comment on the latest disappearance in town.

               At about five, I send his hundred-and-twenty-seven seconds long audio recording to Richard. It isn’t enough, but it will keep him off my back for another day.

               On my way back to The Nest, I pass by Barney’s. Andy is brushing dried leaves off her Camaro.

               I join her.

               “So. How was your first day?”

               “Fine.” Andy scrunched up her face. “I roamed about, made some polite conversation, and took loads of aesthetic but useless pictures.”

               “Anything significant?” I ask.

               “Not really.” She lights up a cigarette. “What about you?”

               I shake my head. “A close knit town of three hundred people, and you would expect someone to know something, to notice something unusual. But no, nothing. There has to be a pattern here, Andy. There always is. These disappearances can’t be mere coincidences.”

               She fiddles with a leaf. “You think it’s too soon to pay the town Sherif a visit?”

               “I don’t know. That’d draw attention."

               “The lake.” She stomps on her cigarette butt. “Did you check it out?”

               No, because I had forgotten all about it. I play it cool. “Was I supposed to do that?"

               Andy gives me a pointed look. “When will you stop being so useless, Stevie?”

               I smile. “When you start being nice to me, Andy.”