He flashed his light across the entire bottom of the dorm, noting that every other piece of flashing was securely in place.

He pointed the light from his flashlight to the ground beneath the hanging flashing and noticed a few scattered droppings of wood dust in the ground.

“Whoever removed these screws did so from exactly where I am right now,” he thought.

Derek carefully pulled back on the flashing and saw that the insulation that had certainly been in place was removed. A quick shot of his flashlight to the ground revealed some remnants of the removed insulation. He reached his hand up the twelve inch, empty space and pushed gently on the floor boards.

An area of slightly more than two square feet lifted easily from his push.

“Easy access in and out of the dorm,” Derek thought. “Maybe this is how Alexander got out and was able to surprise his victims. But how the heck did he remove the screws from the flashing? He couldn’t have done that from inside. Either he got out without being noticed to make his own modifications or someone else helped him.”

As quietly as he could, Derek pulled himself through the opening in the floor and into the dorm. He stood motionless for several seconds, his ears trained on any noise coming from the lodge. After hearing nothing, he clicked on his flashlight.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ralph Fox wished that he could sleep. His insomnia was a repetitive challenge he had faced several times during the last ten years of his life. He knew that staying at the lake-front-lodge-turned-crime-scene wouldn’t do much good at ending his insomnia, but he also knew that this was exactly where he needed to be.

He had spent the better part of the last few days reading every note and medical record he could find in the doctor’s small office. Most of the notes he read made no sense to him, but Ralph had learned not to doubt things he didn’t fully understand.

As he made his way through the lodge’s rooms, each decorated in the way one would expect an Adirondack lodge would be, Ralph carried a handful of papers and read them out loud, hoping some trapped memory in one of the rooms would explain the mystery contained in the doctor’s notes.

Several times, he tried sleeping in one of the six guest rooms, only to be disturbed by a pressing need to “read that last note one more time.”

“What we have here, ladies and gentlemen,” he said openly to a vacant room, “is a mystery of the highest degree. And like any other mystery, this one has a puzzle piece that, once found, will unravel this whole thing.”

But no matter how many times he reread the notes, the puzzle piece remained hidden.

Ralph was a loner, a man more comfortable being spoken about than spoken to. Though he didn’t dislike people, he felt that there was an unbridgeable gap separating him from most others. His ex-wife often told him that he lived “contrary on purpose. Always trying to see things differently. Never just getting along just to get along.”

And that’s what Ralph could never understand: Why people would agree with what others were saying, doing, believing just to have something, real or imagined, in common. He felt lonely at times but also secure in knowing that the few people he called friends were true friends. People he liked because of who they were and who liked him for what he was.

His move from Texas to rural upstate New York was easy. Ralph didn’t attach sentimental feelings to things and people who, he believed, would remain the same no matter the distance between them. In upstate New York, as Chief of Police in a small town, Ralph felt that he would be just another face in a scarce crowd. Someone who people would recognize but not feel compelled to speak to. He believed that moving over a thousand miles away wouldn’t represent a fresh start, just a continuation of his life, but in a different climate.

It was close to 2:30 in the morning when he heard the sounds. Defying his body shape and his physical condition, Ralph moved with cat-like movements towards the sound. Silently retrieving his Colt 45 from the kitchen counter where he had placed it while eating the rest of the sub sandwich he had ordered for dinner, he moved without a sound towards the rooms where the dead bodies had been just a few days prior.

He made sure to not assume what or who was making the noise; just find the source and take action as needed. The room’s darkness was cut by a well-aimed and trained flashlight, at times covered by a hand, then revealed in an intelligent and targeted pattern.

Ralph, knowing that the person directing the flashlight was unaware of his presence, held his Colt out two feet behind the flashlight and reached for the light switch on the wall.

Derek was unsure of what he noticed first: the overhead fluorescent lights filling the dark room or the sound of a revolver’s hammer being set back into ready position.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“If you could explain to me what the hell you think you’re doing here, and if your explanation is good enough, why, I may just decide not to put a .45 caliber bullet into the back of your head.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a guy,” Derek said as he instinctively raised his hands above his head.

“Maybe so, but since I am the one with the gun, and you are the one with the Maglite, I have to believe that I hold the cards in this situation. That means that I call the shots. No pun intended, said the man holding the gun.”

“My name is Derek Cole. Thomas O’Connell, who I believe is the brother of the perp you are looking for, retained my services. If you look in my wallet, you will see a card with the names of four detectives from four different police departments who will vouch for me.”

“And I bet that wallet of yours in tucked neatly into your ass pocket?”

“Afraid so. I will use two fingers and will slowly remove it.”