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The Missing…the story goes on…unedited…

Although finding the perpetrator of these heinous actions proved to be most difficult. After the death of Jacob Walton, the crimes had ceased. Months went by without incident. It was as if a bad stroke of luck passed over the town swiftly, and with the same swiftness it was gone. 

On a Tuesday, Lilly was rushed to the hospital. The baby was coming. From the back of the ambulance, Lilly punched in his number on her mobile. 


“It’s time,” Lilly snarled into the phone. A contraction caused her to grimace and cry out. 

“Um, Lilly? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! The baby…” 

“Ooh…I’m on my way.”

Konan changed from his pajama bottoms into jeans, pulled on his hoodie and boots, and ran to his truck. He fired it up and raced to Fredericksburg Memorial Hospital. 

Manson, Rankin, Janko, and a whole host of others were crammed into the hall, when he showed up. Janko shook his head when Konan ran up. 

“Boy, you are late. Lilly has yelled, cussed, and raised all sorts of sand.”

“I bet. She was rather ferocious on the phone.”

“Someone needs to be in there with her,” Janko said. Konan shrugged. 

“I’m here for moral support. Her mom was supposed to go with her in there.”

“Oh, she went with her,” Manson said. “She was in shambles though. I’m not sure how much help she’ll be…”

At 0118, Lt. Lilly Thompson gave birth to a 9.5-pound baby boy. The doctor came out in the hallway and told them the good news.

“Which one of you is named Thermie?”

“I guess I am,” Konan said. The other cops laughed, even Janko cracked a smile behind his walrus mustache. 

“She would like to see you before she goes to sleep.”


Konan walked into the small hospital room. Lilly and her mother Bea looked up at him. Lilly held her son in her arms. 

“I have to name him, Konan.” Bea winked at Konan and gave him a small smile. She patted the seat next to her and pulled her head back toward the wall. 

Konan sat down next to Bea. His eyes took in the fresh new life that Lilly had given birth to.

“He’s very handsome, Lilly.”

“I want to name him after a great man. Something…classy.”

“I thought you were supposed to pick a name during pregnancy, not wait until you’ve seen him to label him.”

“There’s no ‘right’ time to pick a name Konan,” Bea said. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. 

“Um, well…how about Walter? Walt? Waldo?”

“No. I thought Gareth. What do you think?”

“Yeah. I like that. If you like it, slap it on paper. Gareth is a nice name.”

“Gareth it is then.”

The unnamed baby became known as Gareth. Konan sat with Lilly and Bea until she dozed off. It was a surreal experience for Konan. He was more than proficient in the removing of human life, but to have any part of bringing it into existence was a whole new bag of tricks.

Konan walked out into the hall. The crowd had diminished since he went in to help Lilly pick a name. Janko, Rankin and Manson were still there, former police chief Tia Mathers had joined them. She gave Konan a nod. 

“What name did she choose,” Manson asked. The others looked at Konan expectedly.

“She named him Gareth.”

“Cool,” Rankin said. The others nodded in agreement. “At least she didn’t name him Thermie.”

“Yeah,” Konan laughed. “Poor kid would’ve had a hard time.” 

Hank Calder drove to his home. Not the sparse houses he rented via proxies in the city. He lived outside the city limits of Fredericksburg, well past the run-down warehouse portion of the town. 

His house was dead center between two counties. No one claimed this forgotten piece of land. His great grandfather had built up this area in response to the rapid growth of Fredericksburg. 

As is the norm with rapid growth, crime rose rapidly as well. Walter Calder, Hank’s grandfather, moved his family to the middle of nowhere. There, he built a cabin, a barn, and a leather shop. The family dug a well that provided cool water from an underground spring. For food, they hunted in the woods that bordered their property. They fished in the river and streams that were not far from their new home. 

Throughout the years, the Calder family flourished in this environment. World War II and the ensuing conflicts had at least one Calder in each. Military service was a staple in their family. Hank Calder was the most recent heir to serve his country. 

People could doubt anything they wanted about the Calders, but they could not doubt their willingness to defend their country. Hank pulled his Chevy Tahoe into the barn. The sun was setting when he started for the cabin. Walter Calder’s cabin was handed down from father to son throughout the years. Hank was given ownership of the home five years ago. 

He switched on a lamp when he walked in. The walls were decorated with his plans. He started a fire in the fireplace and removed the plans, then he tossed them into the fire.

On his cedar desk was a black portfolio. The word ‘Masterpiece’ was written in the center of the portfolio in gold lettering. His final act would be a doozy. Hank sat in his recliner and smiled. 

It had been months since the last murder. The police had claimed that Jacob Walton may have been the killer. All the evidence that had been salvageable did not shed any light that would clear Jacob Walton. Thus, the case was tossed onto the heaping pile of cold cases.

Life had gone on. 

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