####MRS. TURNER'S HOUSE
Jamie stares straight ahead as he scrubs dishes. Straight out the window, into the |1>[dark].
(click:?1)+(t8n:"shudder")[//The hole. Straight through the brain.//(set:$honk to 1)]
(event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n-delay:3s)+(t8n:"fade")[He shudders and blinks. More soap. |2>[Scrub.]]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Mrs. Turner says something to him, but it doesn't quite click. He laughs and nods anyway. Rinse. Dry.(set:$honk to 2)]
(event: when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[Jamie lies in bed that night, arms stiff at his sides, eyes tracing the popcorn on the ceiling. The endless constellations. They used to say that the stars offered guidance, once, but here?
|3>[He's got nothing.]]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[####DAY 3(set:$honk to 3)]
(event: when $honk is 3)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[At the crack of dawn, he sits back up. Something (link-reveal:"chugs")[(dialog:"Who was he? When did he die? Would that Jamie were there a few hours sooner... Could he have stopped it?","i don't know...")] behind his eyes, a whirring engine that's been (link-reveal:"spinning uselessly")[(dialog:"Did he have a family? Would they know him by the half-hanging jaw? The texture of his brain?","jesus, dude")] all night. As Jamie turns and looks into the mirror, the vanity, a marble bounces all the way down the pegs in his mind and rattles into place at last.
|4>[He has to tell somebody.](set:$honk to 0)]]
(click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")[It's a harder decision than it seems on its face. The moral thing to do, of course, would be to tell somebody. The authorities. The family, if he even knew who to tell. But faced with it as a reality, and not just a scenario to drive an episode of SVU? Something that doesn't //happen// to real people?
Part of him doesn't believe it //is// real. And part of him wants nothing to do with the (link-reveal:"authorities")[(dialog:"He's had his own fair share of bad encounters. That's all.","cagey, huh.")]. But an increasingly-loud part of him can't bear the idea of taking this burden to the grave.
So, mind made up, Jamie haltingly asks Mrs. Turner where he might find a (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[police station.]]](if:(passage:)'s tags contains "JournalTag")[(set:$isJournal to 1)]
(if:$journal is 1 and $isJournal is 1)[(prepend: ?SideBar)[<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/journal.png" alt="Journal" title="Journal">]]
(elseif:$journal is 1)[(prepend: ?SideBar)[[[<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/journal.png" alt="Journal" title="Journal">->Journal]]]](if:$body is 0 and $id is 0 and $surr is 0)[//`[`This is (link-reveal:"Jamie's journal")[(dialog:"Bound in black leather, and mostly used to sketch pictures of plants. Until now, that is.","got it")]. You can click the journal icon at any time to access his investigative notes.`]`//
]\
|1>[###VICTIM](click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[(display:"Victim")]\
(if:$inv >= 2)[
|2>[###SUSPECTS](click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[(display:"Suspects")]]
(if:$honk >= 5)[[[Close the journal.->get the hell out of here]]]\
(else:)[(link-undo:"Close the journal.")]He waves away her (link-reveal:"concern")[(dialog:"Nosiness, more likely.","uh-huh")], insisting that it's just protocol. A formality. Happens all the time in a field like this.
It's bullshit, and he thinks she knows it, but it works well enough to get him out of the house without further issue.
Over the bridge, down Main Street, past the rows of dusty storefronts and abandoned foundations, there lies a commercial building, with corrugated metal siding and an inoffensively beige paint job. The left half of it houses a thrift store, with peeling letters plastered on the windows: 'Owned and Operated by the Bingham Creek Baptist Church'. And the right half, surprisingly nondescript, is home to...
<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/station.png">
####THE POLICE STATION(set:$honk to 1)
(event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)[The only indication that this is a police office at all is the iconic logo on the door - there's no signage, no lettering. Inside, though, officers do in fact sit at their desks. All two of them.
It's dim. The fluorescent lights above must be on their last legs, their plastic housing aged to a fine yellow and their bulbs flickering occasionally. There are no windows, at least, not out front; the only light that gets in is the pathetic little trickle from the glass of the front door. Jamie squints, eyes adjusting.
Then he realizes that all eyes are on him as he |1>[approaches the front desk.]]]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie expects (link-reveal:"the guy")[(dialog:"A man with more neck than head. His nametag reads 'Ofc. Bingham', like the creek. He's dressed in the typical uniform, with hair shorn so close to his head that Jamie's surprised he didn't just go for the cueball look.","got it")] manning the front desk to say something first. Like a greeting, a 'what can I do for you', something of that nature... but he doesn't. He just works a wad of gum in his mouth and waits.(set:$honk to 2)]
(event: when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:5s)["Uh, hi," Jamie starts, wanting to die of embarrassment. "I was wanting to report a... a crime. (link-reveal:"If that's okay.")[(dialog:"What the fuck is he talking about?! Of course it's okay!","oh my god dude")]"
Bingham's expression remains stony and bored. But, after a moment, he slowly reaches for a notepad and flips through the pages with an almost-cartoonish exaggeration. "'N' who would you be," he drawls.
"Okay! Um. My name is Jamie Strauss," Jamie says, "I'm from out-of-town."
"Yeah, I got that."
He regrets his decision the moment he opens his mouth, but he's already in this deep. No backing out now. "And I think I found a dead body," he warbles.
That gets the officer to sit up a little straighter, but not much. "You think? Didja check?"
Another officer, leaning back in a chair at his desk, snorts and chimes in, "Didja try shakin' him first?"
That gets a round of laughter from both men. Jamie's shoulders draw in, shame dripping down his skull like a cracked egg.
"He had a fucking |2>[hole in his head]," he snaps without thinking.(set:$honk to 0)]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")["Yeah, that'll do it," the other officer says before returning to (link-reveal:"his work")[(dialog:"A crossword puzzle, from the looks of it.","got it")].
"And where were ya, when ya found this fella with a hole in his head?"
"I was in the woods, about a mile north of the old train tracks," Jamie tells him, struck with the feeling that this isn't being given anywhere near the importance it deserves.
"You'll wanna stay outta them woods, (link-reveal:"sir")[(dialog:"Somehow, the way he says it doesn't imply the respect the term is usually employed for.","got it")]," says Bingham. "Ain't nothin' for ya. National park's up the hill, if'n you're lookin' for trails."
Jamie's fingers clench, nails digging into the meat of his palms. Why aren't they (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[listening?]]]"I'm a state official, actually," he informs the officer, almost trembling with the effort of keeping his voice level. "State Forestry Division. I'm doing a study, and I found a guy who was shot in the head, and I figured, as officers of the law, you'd want to look into it. Being a potential //murder// and all."
Bingham writes something down, but it's remarkably brief, given how much Jamie's been telling him. He tries to make it out from here, but can't.
"Gunshot... wound... in the woods. Sounds like a (link-reveal:"huntin' accident")[(dialog:"There's no way! The angle's all wrong, for one thing, and for another, //he never saw a fucking gun!//","hey, that's right!")] to me," Bingham says without looking up.
"Are you serious? You're not even going to check it out?!"
"Hey. Hey, Bingham." The other officer glances over at him, eyebrows raised. "This guy's soundin' mighty suspicious, don't you think? What kinda out-of-towner just up'n finds a body?"
The sergeant looks him up and down, |4>[judging him.]
(click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")["That's a good point, officer," he says at last, a slow smirk spreading over his face. "Reckon we oughta get a statement? Take him into custody?"
"Gotta do a proper investigation, ain't we?"
Jamie takes a step backward, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. A chair creaks, agonizingly loud in the small space, as Bingham gets to his feet.(set:$honk to 1)]
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"rumble")+(t8n-delay:4s)["Officer Bingham," he hears suddenly.]
(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:8s)[A woman steps forth from a back office, her hair pulled back into an austere bun without a single strand out of place. Her posture is so impeccable that Jamie subconsciously straightens up himself - and so too does Bingham.
"Yes, sergeant."
She smiles thinly at Jamie, but it's clear that she is far from amused. "Straighten up. You're not gettin' paid to play your stupid games."
He sinks back into his chair with a sullen, "yes'm."]
(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:12s)["My apologies," she says, walking up to Jamie. She offers a handshake that threatens to crush Jamie's hand into dust. "Sergeant Caldwell. Harlan County Police. I hear you'd like to (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[give a statement?]]"]](set:$honk to 0)He's so rattled that he barely processes it, taking a seat in her office and rattling out answers like an automaton. Before he knows it, Sgt. Caldwell's wrapping up, thanking him for his time as a 'fellow state official' and promising to have an officer look into it.
Somehow, though, (link-reveal:"it doesn't reassure him")[(dialog:"She doesn't give a shit. //None// of them give a shit. He keeps turning it over and over in his mind, but he doesn't get //how// - somebody killed a man, for fuck's sake! Isn't that a big deal?!","...")].
The fuck is he even supposed to do now? He could get back to the grind, sure, but his heart's racing, he keeps replaying events in his mind, wondering what he could have |1>[said differently--]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[//'I'm a state official, actually',// what a fucking joke, maybe if he'd have started off louder, more confident, hadn't stuttered his way through the very first thing he said--(set:$honk to 1)]
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[Jamie walks all the way back to the bridge, completely unaware of the journey.
Jesus. He can't just let this go... he's got to do something! (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[Tell somebody!->got to do something]] Is there anybody in this godforsaken town that'll listen?!(set:$honk to 0)]]Maybe. Maybe not. But //outside// of town...
There's gotta be signal somewhere around this shithole, he thinks. He's (link-reveal:"seen")[(dialog:"It didn't exactly warrant mentioning before.","that's fair")] people on their cellphones. And if it takes a bunch of walking to |1>[find it...]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[|2>[He's just gonna have to...]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[|3>[Keep walking.]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[In one of the many alleys threading through Mrs. Turner's neighborhood, phone held up to the heavens, he finally |4>[strikes gold.]]
(click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")[Ring. Ring. Ring.(set:$honk to 1)]
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)["...Hello?"
"Lance? Is that you?"
"This is my personal number, Jamie. Who else would it be?"
"Oh, thank God," Jamie moans, shoulders slumping with relief. "I really need to |5>[talk to you!]"(set:$honk to 0)]]
(click:?5)+(t8n:"fade")[After the requisite pleasantries (and getting ribbed a little for panicking at Lance on his day off), Jamie takes a deep breath, preparing himself to explain things in a calm, controlled, and rational manner.
And then it all spills out at once.
"I found a body in the woods and somebody shot him in the head and I went to the police and they just fucking //laughed// at me and told me it was a goddamn hunting accident and I //know// it wasn't because there wasn't a fucking //gun// anywhere and I don't know what to do about it and I am //freaking the fuck out!//"
There's a moment of silence.(set:$honk to 2)] (event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:5s)[Then Lance breathes, "Whoa."
"That's a bit of a (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[fucking understatement]], Lance!"]]"Calm down, Jamie." There's a remarkable lack of urgency on his part.
"Calm down?! I think I'm //incredibly// fucking calm right now, all things considered--"
(t8n:"rumble")+(t8n-delay:3s)["You don't speak to me that way, Mr. Strauss," Lance cuts him off, a sudden hard edge to his voice.
Jamie's mouth |1>[snaps shut].]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")["Now, I'm gonna tell you something," he continues. "Off the record. As a friend. You're not in (link-reveal:"fucking Kansas")[(dialog:"Jamie's now keenly aware of the lack of Southern twang on his part. Lance emphasizes the '-ing' so firmly that you could club somebody with it.","got it")] anymore, okay? And you have //got// to let it go."
"What? Why?! Why am I the only one who's freaking out right now?!"
"Because everyone else in (link-reveal:"Harlan County")[(dialog:"At the southeastern border, a stone's throw from Virginia and Tennessee both. Home to a few small coal towns like this, a state park or two, and... not much else.","got it")] knows what happens if you see |2>[something you shouldn't]!"]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie's next words come after a long pause, anxiety subsumed beneath a growing, looming dread. "...What's that supposed to mean?"
There's a rush of static on the line, a heavy sigh. "Take a look around you. What do you see?"
"Uh... Houses. Mountains," Jamie says, uncertain.
"Oh, Christ. You're having this conversation //outside?//"
"It's not exactly easy to get signal around here, man! I'm lucky I even found somewhere to call you from!"
Lance groans and mutters something just at the edge of Jamie's hearing, something that sounds suspiciously like 'gonna get himself killed'. Then he says, "Mountains. //Untouched// mountains. Acres of woods that barely anybody can get to."
|3>["Right..."]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")["And a bunch of poor, desperate people. People without any fucking options. What do you think people like that turn to, Jamie?"
The gears turn. "Drugs, I guess," he says slowly. "(link-reveal:"Meth. Pills.")[(dialog:"Just like Karen said. About Daniel.","that's true...")]"
"Hey, there's a smart guy." Another inhale. "You need to watch what you say. Who you say it to. How //loud// you're talking right now. Because if you run afoul of the wrong kind of people in Bingham Creek..."
Jamie's blood runs cold.
"Hunting accidents happen all the time. And I don't want you getting into an accident. Are we clear?"
(link-style:(text-colour:orange))[["Crystal," Jamie croaks.]]]Hunting accident. //Hunting accident.//
The words loop through Jamie's brain like elevator music. Walking down the tracks. Delineating a plot. Turning over the leaves of a vine to investigate the ridges beneath.
|1>[Hunting accident.]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[Nobody's going to look into it, are they. Accidents happen all the time. Apparently. So commonplace that (link-reveal:"the cops")[(dialog:"It hits him, suddenly, that the sergeant was just humoring him. Getting him off their backs. Wouldn't want a //state official// filing a complaint about their conduct, after all.","what a joke")] //laugh// about it.
The springtime heat blossoms, leaving him drenched in sweat.
|2>[Hunting accident.]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[He's just an observer. It's part and parcel of the job. Observe. Record. Investigate.
This isn't his town. It's not his business. There's nothing saying he couldn't end up just like that, bleeding to death in the hot sun, with nothing left to tell his family but "hunting accident".
But something in the woods still draws him closer. |3>[Like a magnet.]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[Every sound, every crunching leaf on the forest floor gives him pause. Jamie steps more carefully. Sticks to the wet litter, birthed from the recent rains.
<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/redbud.png">
It's there. Behind that wicked (link-reveal:"redbud tree")[(dialog:"//Cercis canadensis//, native to the eastern US. Often used as a harbinger of cold snaps and the start of spring alike. Its buds are a bright, showy pink, almost like drops of blood in the waning light; they're edible, both fresh and fried, but now doesn't seem like the time.","got it")].
He steels himself, rounds the bend, and (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[draws out his journal.]]](set:$journal to 1)(set:$inv to 1)\
(if:$body is 0 and $surr is 0 and $id is 0)[The body remains just as it was when he left it, though with a significantly stronger... smell. Jamie gags a little. Then it occurs to him that he should (link-reveal:"put on gloves")[(dialog:"They're thick and leathery, intended more for handling dangerous plants than detective work. But they'll do in a pinch.","got it")] before digging any deeper.
It's almost a joke. Graves... digging... you know. He's high-strung enough that even the tenuous association is enough to make him snort.
](if:$body is 0 and $surr is 0 and $id is 1)[Now, he could get a closer look at (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[the body]], or investigate the (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[surroundings]]. He just needs a moment to get his bearings.]\
(elseif:$body is 1 and $id is 1 and $surr is 0)[Now, he should investigate the (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[surroundings]]. He just needs a moment to get his bearings.]\
(elseif:$body is 0 or $surr is 0 or $id is 0)[Now, he could(if:$body is 0)[ get a closer look at (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[the body]]](if:$surr is 0)[, investigate the (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[surroundings]]](if:$body is 0 or $surr is 0 and $id is 0)[, or](if:$id is 0)[ start looking for some kind of (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[identification]]]. He just needs a moment to get his bearings.]\
(else:)[And that's all she wrote. Thank God. Now he can (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[get the hell out of here]].](set:$honk to 0)Oh, Jesus. Okay.\
(if: $surr is 0 and $id is 0)[ Sure. Check out the body first.]\
(else:)[ Jamie's put it off long enough.]
The top part of his head's been blown clear off, making a facial identification difficult, but there's some scruff on the edge of a square jaw, and a good handful of short brown hair, matted with blood.
(link-reveal:"|1>[The man]")[(dialog:"(if:$id is 0)[He supposes he'll go with 'John Doe' for now. Less impersonal.(replace:?1)[John Doe]](else:)[Dallas. None of this clinical shit. He's doing this for a reason.(replace:?1)[Dallas]]","got it")] looks pretty tall from where he's standing. About 6', if Jamie were to guess. Thin, too - his (link-reveal:"clothes")[(dialog:"A camo jacket - Carhartt. Dirty around the elbows, but otherwise in good condition. Underneath is a plain T-shirt, wrinkle-free and bone-white, save for the spots of blood.
His jeans are free of the holes and tatters he's grown used to seeing, which makes the damp, muddy knees stand out all the more.
Lastly, Jamie examines his boots, which are covered in dried mud. It's thick enough on the soles that it's likely recent. Fresh. He walked out here.","got it")] provide him some bulk, but his skin is practically shrink-wrapped around his (link-reveal:"hands")[(dialog:"Large and rough and covered in calluses. There's dirt caked in the fingernails, and both hands look to be flushed with blood, compared to the unsettling pallor of the face.(set:$honk to 1)","got it")], tendons and veins standing out in stark relief.
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")[Jamie's eyes keep drifting up against his will. To (link-reveal:"the hole")[(dialog:"It hangs open, a glossy cave of tissue where once there was a man. It - it can't have been self-inflicted, he thinks. It's too big. Inflicted by a very big gun. Pointed downwards, not up, not through the roof of the mouth. And, crucially, there's no gun at his feet, where it would have dropped from his limp hands.(set:$honk to 2)","got it")].]]
(event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")[Okay. (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[That's enough.->draws out his journal.]] If he looks any closer, he's going to be sick.(set:$body to 1)(set:$honk to 0)]]Jamie takes a deep breath, trying to relax, and then immediately (link-reveal:"regrets it")[(dialog:"The smell. Good Lord, the smell, the fucking abbatoir stench of it all, like a solid wall of iron putrescence...
He might puke.","uh-oh")].
At least this is the easy part. In theory. He hesitantly tiptoes around the site of the body, checking to make sure that there (link-reveal:"really wasn't")[(dialog:"He's only human, and human memory is notoriously unreliable. But he feels fairly goddamn confident about it.(set:$honk to 1)","makes sense")] any kind of gun around.
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")[...True to his word, though, he finds nothing within arm's reach. And nothing in the woods beyond, nothing but brush and ferns and trees reaching like withered hands to the skies above. At least it's a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone - confirm a hypothesis //and// knock out another plot survey.
As he searches for the gun, however, he also keeps a close eye on |1>[the ground].]]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[It's not like it's gonna be dangling from the trees, obviously. But the key thing Jamie's looking out for is footprints.
Not the easiest thing to find in the woods, if he's being honest. The leaf litter, largely undisturbed, obscures where anybody might have stepped. Including Jamie himself. But the leaves also make it apparent that the body can't have been, like, //dragged// out here after the fact. And probably not carried, either - there are no heavy depressions like Jamie would expect.
However, there //is// something curious in the near distance... a patch of |2>[crumpled ferns] amongst their untouched brethren.]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Bingo.
The pinnae have been crushed flat. Stomped. And amidst those flattened leaves, Jamie can make out at least three large, muddy outlines. Bootprints.
There's little detail to them, other than quantity and size. They're big. Likely men. Not enough to suspect three separate people were involved, but still.
And just at the edge of (link-reveal:"the ferns'")[(dialog:"//Polystichum acrostichoides//. The Christmas fern, so named for its evergreen fronds, still vibrant even in the winter. They're especially common in moist, shady areas like these. Many of its crosiers have yet to unfurl, and now, they never will.","got it")] radius, where greenery gives way to damp earth, there are remarkably clear imprints of the toe of a boot. No - two boots, different patterns. He jots down a (link-reveal:"rough sketch")[(dialog:"Jamie's no artist, but at least it makes him feel like he's doing something useful.(set:$honk to 2)","got it")] in his journal.]
(event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")[That's about all he can find, though. No clear prints, no gun, nothing to definitively pin down a suspect... but (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[it's a start.->draws out his journal.]](set:$surr to 1)(set:$honk to 0)]]Jamie squats next to the body, weighing his next move.
This is so far beyond his usual scope of experience. He's a man of academia, more familiar with dissecting questionable scientific literature than, uh, //people//. As such, his hand stills just shy of the man's jacket, trembling a little.
Looking is one thing. Touching is another.
He glances around him, as if worried that he'll be seen. As if somebody could have snuck up on him without giving themselves away a mile back. But there's no one around. Nothing stirs around him. All the sound has been sucked away, a sudden vacuum, leaving only Jamie and his own heavy breath.
//Do it.//
|1>[//Do it.//]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[He gingerly lifts up the arm, jacket pinched between two fingers.(set:$honk to 1)]
(event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[...Nothing happens. Lightning doesn't strike him down. The arm moves, and Jamie can |2>[reach into his jacket pocket], and all is as it was.]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[He hopes for a wallet, but all he finds is (link-reveal:"a receipt")[(dialog:"Oil-stained, with much of the text blurred, but he can make out a transaction at Black Mountain Tobacco Outlet for $62.38.","huh...")], which he tucks into his journal.
The other pocket reveals a single quarter. Jamie leaves it.
Somehow, digging into the man's pants pockets feels more intrusive, but he perseveres. In the left pocket, he finds a pocket knife, with a mother-of-pearl inlay and a truly tasteless engraving of a flaming skull atop two crossed guns. But in the right, he finally discovers what he's been looking for.
|3>[A wallet.]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[It's leather, with a rich brown patina. The corners are remarkably stiff, like they've yet to be subject to the horrors of being shoved in somebody's pocket day in, day out; it even has that new car smell. Inside, there's (link-reveal:"no cash")[(dialog:"Not exactly surprising. But it does leave room for confusion: did he just not have any money on hand, or was it taken from him after the fact?","good question")] to be found, but it's stuffed to the gills with store cards, business cards, an EBT card, and every other kind of card imaginable. Even his (link-reveal:"Social Security card")[(dialog:"Possibly the weirdest thing Jamie's seen all day. Besides the hole in his head, that is. Who the hell keeps this in their wallet?","no clue")].
And right in the center, there's a driver's license bearing the name "|4>[Dallas James McCarthy]".]
(click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")[Oh. Jamie's stomach sinks. Like //that// Dallas. After all, there can't be that many fucking guys named Dallas in one town, can there? Certainly not in a place this small.
Regardless, that's (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[one mystery solved->draws out his journal.]](set:$id to 1), he supposes. With that, he tucks everything back into place just as it was when he found it.(set:$honk to 0)](set:$inv to 1)Dusk descends upon him as he beats a hasty retreat, turning the forest into a yawning chasm of arms and bones around him, all cast in black. Every crackle and creak and distant chirp makes Jamie's heart skip a beat.
When he bursts back into the clearing around the tracks, into the warm purple of the evening, he pants like he's just run a marathon.
(if:visits is 1)[\
(link-reveal:"Thoughts")[(dialog:"Is anybody going to go back out there and do a proper investigation? An autopsy? He doesn't know what the fuck he's doing!(set:$honk to $honk+1)","i don't know...")] (link-reveal:"race")[(dialog:"Oh, shit. What if they find out he was there? What if they pin it on him?(set:$honk to $honk+1)","that would not be good")] (link-reveal:"through")[(dialog:"Who could've done it? He's gotta start building a list of suspects...(set:$honk to $honk+1)","hmm")] (link-reveal:"his")[(dialog:"His buddies. He has no clue who they are, but Beth-Ann was talking about his buddies going on a hunting trip. What if they...?(set:$honk to $honk+1)","what if...")] (link-reveal:"mind.")[(dialog:"Wait. The other mechanic. //Daniel.// What if their rivalry ran that deep? Karen //did// say he got up to some weird shit in the woods...(set:$honk to $honk+1)","oh. oh no.")](event:when $honk is 5)[ (set:$inv to 2)There's too many, too many to hold in his head at once, so instead, he [[pens them in a shaky hand->Journal]] until he feels like they're not going to spill through and be lost forever.
He needs - he needs a drink. A smoke. Something to |1>[take the edge off].]]\
(else:)[Thoughts race through his mind. There's too many, too many to hold in his head at once, so instead, he [[pens them in a shaky hand->Journal]] until he feels like they're not going to spill through and be lost forever.
He needs - he needs a drink. A smoke. Something to |1>[take the edge off].]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[####THE FOOD BARN(set:$honk to 6)]
(event:when $honk is 6)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:2s)[He scours the aisles, hoping to find a half-decent six pack. Hell, his standards aren't that high right now; he'll settle for Bud Light if he has to. But, to his dismay, there's //nothing//.
There's sodas, there's energy drinks, there's even a dusty display of severely-overpriced kombucha that doesn't look like it's been touched in months, but there's no alcohol to be found. There's not even one of those little counters where you can buy cigarettes near the front. Frustrated, Jamie grabs (link-reveal:"another Gatorade")[(dialog:"What? It's for the electrolytes. He's sweating like a stuck pig out here.","fair enough")] instead.
There's only one open, and it's staffed by the same bored teenager as last time. He quickly checks his phone. (link-reveal:"//9:37 PM.//")[(dialog:"Doesn't she have school, or something? He doesn't even know if it's legal to keep minors working this late at night.","yeah...")]
Her eyebrows raise. |2>["You're back,"] she says.]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie laughs, forced and awkward. "Yep. I'm, uh, I'm staying in town for awhile... Say, can I ask you something?"
She narrows her eyes, suddenly guarded. "What?"
"Do you know where I can get something to drink? I looked all over the store, but I couldn't find anything."
Her hackles drop a little. "Yeah, uh... if you go over to Virginia," she snorts, as she hands him his drink and his receipt. "We don't sell alcohol here."
"For real? Sheesh. What do you guys even |3>[do for fun] around here?"
"Couldn't tell ya," she shrugs.]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie sighs. "Well, maybe I'll swing by the gas station. I really need a smoke."
She peers at him curiously. It's only then that Jamie realizes that A) he's been standing here talking for a while, B) there's nobody else in the store waiting for him to get a move on, and C) she has a nametag on today. 'Ashley'. Another name to put to a face.
It's... strange. Disconcerting, almost. Such a large, empty store, with nothing but buzzing fluorescent lights for company.
"Are you good? Uh, sir?" Ashley says at last.
He's so strung out that an honest answer slips out of him against his will. "Not even remotely," he admits, with a strained smile. "But hey. |4>[What can you do, huh?]"]
(click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")[She makes a non-committal noise, and with that, the conversation's over.
Jamie presses the cold bottle against his forehead just outside the automatic doors. It's a pleasant contrast to the oppressive humidity he's stepped back into.
(link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[Somewhere around here]] has got to have something to smoke. Something to get him out of his own head.(set:$honk to 0)(set:$inv to 3)]<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/gasstation.png">
(set:$honk to 0)The gas station down the road is, likewise, almost completely empty. Save for (link-reveal:"Brenda")[(dialog:"One of Beth-Ann's friends. At least, that's what he's assuming they are. She's the one with the shock of bright red hair.","got it")], that is. She greets him warmly, but he's barely got his shit together enough to grunt out "a pack of Black and Milds, please", let alone perform more pleasantries.
To his surprise, though, when he shuffles back out, there's a car at the lone pair of pumps. And hovering at the nozzle...
|1>[Daniel.]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[As the door jingles behind him, Daniel looks up. Then locks eyes with him.(set:$honk to 1)]
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[A bead of sweat coalesces and drops down Jamie's temple.(set:$honk to 2)]]
(event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)[His mouth opens, and the stupidest, most milquetoast thing possible squeaks out of it.
|2>["Hey, Daniel."]]]
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[<a href="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/gsencounter.png" target="_blank"><img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/gsencounter_small.png"></a>
Those dark eyes look him up, then down. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking, only that he //is//, scanning Jamie with a laser focus.
And Jamie, (link-reveal:"sensing a threat")[(dialog:"Like a cold drip of water landing on his scalp. Maybe Daniel's watched Dallas' eyes go dark, just like his.(set:$honk to 3)","...")], does the same in turn.]
(event:when $honk is 3)[(t8n:"fade")[He's dressed in the same (link-reveal:"jacket")[(dialog:"Much more threadbare than Dallas'. The occasional tear in the fabric lays bare the tender, cottony interior. Covered in little spots, oxidized to blackness. Might be motor oil. Might be blood.","got it")], the same (link-reveal:"beat-up sneakers")[(dialog:"They're just covered in a thick layer of dust, but it's not conclusive. He could have scrubbed them off. A day of walking around this town would get them dirty again in no time.
If only he could get a look at the soles...","makes sense")] in the same off-white. His grip's gone loose on the nozzle; the meter's stopped ticking. His shoulders are hunched. His eyes are wide. He looks for all the world like he's been caught in the flash of a camera.
"Jamie," Daniel says after a moment. His voice is rough from disuse. "You, uh... you got somethin' on ya."
Jamie blinks and |3>[looks down at himself]. "Huh?"]]
(click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[Oh. He's... still wearing the gloves.
And (link-reveal:"the boots")[(dialog:"Hiking boots, flecked with leaves and dirt and blood, that burnt red standing out amongst all the brown. He's stepped in something unspeakable and didn't even have the forethought to wipe it off.(set:$honk to 4)","jesus")].]
(event:when $honk is 4)[(t8n:"fade")[(set:$honk to 0)A high-pitched laugh bubbles out of him against his will. A subconscious filler. Something to buy him some time, while he sweats and fidgets and says...
(button:)[["What are you talking about?"]]
(button:)[["I, uh, I was doing some gardening..."]]
(button:)[["It's blood."]] ]]"What are you talking about?"
Daniel's gaze drops to his feet. "You been walkin'."
The question of 'where' is left unspoken, as if Daniel's waiting for him to give it up of his own volition. Jamie's not that stupid, though. "Hah! Yep. Doing a lot of walking lately." He stretches his calves, desperately hoping to sell it. "It's good for your health."
Daniel grunts. Jamie can't figure out what he means by it.
"Some funny-lookin' dirt on them boots," he says, working his mouth from side to side like he's chewing something. |2>["Ain't seen none like that before.]"
(click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie's mouth goes dry. "Oh, you know. I was just, like, around," he says uselessly. "Got lots of plants to research out here. Trees... Ferns... Neat stuff. It's all part of the job."
Daniel looks at him like he's grown a second head.
"Anyway, it's, uh, it's getting late! I told your grandma I'd be (link-reveal:"home before ten")[(dialog:"Make him believe he's got a timed obligation. If Jamie doesn't get back, somebody will wonder where he is.(set:$honk to $honk+1)","okay...")]. Wouldn't want her to (link-reveal:"worry about me")[(dialog:"Appeal to his emotions. Jamie's banking a whole lot on Daniel giving a shit about his granny, though.(set:$honk to $honk+1)","sure...")]," Jamie says, inching away.]
(event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[Part of him expects Daniel to follow after him, try to stop him... but he doesn't. Instead, Daniel follows him only with his eyes, a lightningrod for a terrifyingly-electric stare. There's a comprehension there that makes Jamie break out in a cold sweat.
A cog |1>[clicking into place.]]]
(click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[The stare that weighs on Jamie's back as he walks away spurs him to move faster, faster, each footstep falling heavier than the next until he's power-walking down the road, through the alleys, his shaking hands fumbling the house keys into Mrs. Turner's locked front door.
Jamie turns the deadbolt behind him, gasping for breath.(set:$honk to 3)]
(event:when $honk is 3)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[As he clambers up the stairs, he braces himself for the inevitable roar of exhaust following closely behind, but there's nothing. Nothing but his heartbeat in his ears.
His cigarettes drop to the ground, untouched, as he closes the bedroom door and plasters himself against it. Then he slowly slides to the ground.
Jamie brings his knees up to his chin, vacantly gazing into the dark.(set:$honk to 4)]]
(event:when $honk is 4)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:7s)[<a href="https://stayaway.neocities.org/build/SAFDC_day4.html">Daniel Creech knows something he shouldn't.</a>]]"I, uh, I was doing some gardening..."
Daniel works his mouth, then spits something on the ground.(click-replace:"something")[a wad of gum](set:$honk to 1)
(event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[After a long moment, he rumbles, "Yeah? You growin' somethin'?"
"Yep," Jamie chuckles, high and nervous.
Another pause.(set:$honk to 2)]]\
(event:when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[ "Didn't see no garden at my granny's," Daniel says.
He can't shake the feeling that Daniel sees right fucking through him, but he's not actually saying as much. He's verbally circling around Jamie, like a big cat around its prey.
Playing with him.
He knows he should stop talking, make a break for it, but Jamie keeps |1>[digging that hole.]]](click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[ "No, yeah, I was, uh... (link-reveal:"Tomatoes!")[(dialog:"He's so fucked.(set:$honk to 3)","yeah uh")]"](event:when $honk is 3)[(t8n:"fade")[ His hands fly out, seizing the moment. "Beth-Ann! She wanted help with her tomatoes, so I... I helped. With the tomatoes."
Daniel's mouth parts in disbelief, but he says nothing.
"Anyway, it's getting late, y'know? I told your grandma I'd be (link-reveal:"home before ten")[(dialog:"Make him believe he's got a timed obligation. If Jamie doesn't get back, somebody will wonder where he is.(set:$honk to $honk+1)","okay...")]. Wouldn't want her to (link-reveal:"worry about me")[(dialog:"Appeal to his emotions. Jamie's banking a whole lot on Daniel giving a shit about his granny, though.(set:$honk to $honk+1)","sure...")]," Jamie says, inching away.]]
(event:when $honk is 5)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[Part of him expects Daniel to follow after him, try to stop him... but he doesn't. Instead, Daniel follows him only with his eyes, a lightningrod for a terrifyingly-electric stare. There's a comprehension there that makes Jamie break out in a cold sweat.
A cog |9>[clicking into place.]]]
(click:?9)+(t8n:"fade")[The stare that weighs on Jamie's back as he walks away spurs him to move faster, faster, each footstep falling heavier than the next until he's power-walking down the road, through the alleys, his shaking hands fumbling the house keys into Mrs. Turner's locked front door.
Jamie turns the deadbolt behind him, gasping for breath.(set:$honk to 6)]
(event:when $honk is 6)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[As he clambers up the stairs, he braces himself for the inevitable roar of exhaust following closely behind, but there's nothing. Nothing but his heartbeat in his ears.
His cigarettes drop to the ground, untouched, as he closes the bedroom door and plasters himself against it. Then he slowly slides to the ground.
Jamie brings his knees up to his chin, vacantly gazing into the dark.(set:$honk to 7)]]
(event:when $honk is 7)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:7s)[<a href="https://stayaway.neocities.org/build/SAFDC_day4.html">Daniel Creech knows something he shouldn't.</a>]]He is... //not// saying that.
(button:)[(link:"Why not?")[Are you serious? Daniel looks like he's two steps away from killing him as it is! Why give him a good reason?!]]
(button:)[(link:"Okay, fine. Pussy.")[Let's try this again.
(button:)[["What are you talking about?"]]
(button:)[["I, uh, I was doing some gardening..."]]]]Victim: (if:$id is 1)[Dallas McCarthy](else:)[Unknown]. \
(if:$body is 1)[Found near redbud tree in Plot 61, subplot B. Last wearing Carhartt jacket (camo), white t-shirt, blue jeans, boots. All seemed brand new. Jeans damp and muddy, like he was kneeling. Boots muddy - walking?
Gunshot wound to the head. Big. Likely from somebody standing above him. No obvious signs of struggle.]\
(if:$surr is 1)[
No gun nearby. At least 2 sets of footprints - likely male.]\
(if:$id is 1)[
Possessions: Receipt for $62.38 at Black Mountain Tobacco Outlet, date unclear. A quarter. Ugliest pocket knife I've ever seen. Wallet with cards, ID, SSI, EBT card. No cash. (No tobacco, either.)][(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[####PRIMARY]
(text-colour:red)[//''Daniel Creech''//]
Runs the Creech Garage in Bingham Creek. Lives with his mom (Tracy) and dad (J.D.); he's Lance's cousin and Mrs. Turner's grandkid. Probably related to every other person in town in some way.
Reclusive and bad-tempered. Has a big problem with me, specifically. Doesn't seem too happy with Lance, either. Karen says he's a good man, but also mentioned him being on //meth//, so who knows.
//Evidence:// Nowhere to be found on the day of the murder. Apparently known to do weird shit out in the woods.
(text-colour:red)[//''Ray-ray''//]
Came by the house asking for money and cigs. Missing a worrying amount of teeth. Doesn't like Daniel very much.
//Evidence:// One of Dallas' buddies. Might have been on that hunting trip.
(align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[####SECONDARY]
(text-colour:blue)[//''Tracy Creech''//]
Daniel's mother. Housewife and Garfield enthusiast. Warm, welcoming, and extremely nosy. I don't know how to get her to stay out of my business without sounding like a jerk. One of Ruth Turner's many, many kids.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Jebediah 'J.D.' Creech''//]
Once the proprietor of Creech & Sons Garage. Arthritis has hampered his ability to work, and a distinct lack of sons on Daniel's part has forced a change of name upon the business.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Lance Turner''//]
My boss at the Forestry Division. He's a nice guy, but he's exceptionally cagey about his family life and his history - he hasn't been home in 5 years, and no one will tell me why. The most I got out of his grandma was that he's "sensitive". Didn't fit in. Not really a satisfying explanation.
(It's probably not him.)
(text-colour:blue)[//''Ruth Turner''//]
She's hosting me for the time being. A homebound retiree, and matriarch of the Turner family. She's kind, but she's got kind of a sharp tongue, and she seems like she's going to collapse at any moment.
(It's probably not her, either.)
(text-colour:blue)[//''Beth-Ann''//]
Mrs. Turner's neighbor. She's friendly... so long as you're on her good side. Has supposedly been agitating for a trail to be put through town for a long time.
Note: Has a dog.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Brenda''//]
One of Beth-Ann's friends. The redhead. Works at the gas station.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Karen''//]
One of Beth-Ann's friends. Gossipy.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Officer Bingham''//]
A cop. He can suck my entire dick.
(text-colour:blue)[//''Sergeant Caldwell''//]
A cop. At least she pretended to take me seriously.\
(if:$inv >= 3)[
(text-colour:blue)[//''Ashley''//]
Cashier at Food Barn. Works way too much for her age. I think she's bisexual? Gonna be honest, I really don't think she did it.]]