On to East Lansing

     Fall had officially arrived in the Midwest. Cool, crisp air. Storm systems pelting rain off the dazzle of red and yellow leaves as the trees decided to say 'fuck it' for another year.
     Rolling out of Lincoln in the Lincoln at o-dark-thirty wasn't exactly the highlight of the day, but we were on a mission. Blaze to East Lansing, hopefully catch the game in person, and set up a meet with a hot lead, who might be hot, too.
     Darkness, rain, lightning, Lightning Hopkins, the Big Muddy and Muddy Waters were all on the agenda. Fear Ameer, too, but that was more Lloyd.
     The blacktop that served as the nation's economic aorta unspooled before us. Kerouac and the guys on Route 66 might have had cool cars and time to chit-chat with characters of Americana, but we were rolling. Fast. 75 if we wanted to stay on the good side of Johnny Law, faster if we were willing to risk getting German Shepherd hair on your upholstery. I wasn't.
     Stereo system, MP3, Satnav, and coffee based energy drinks in a cooler. The only thing that could stop us was Hell, high water, and one's bladder capacity.
     Lloyd finally perked up in the middle of the desolate steppe that could either be Denton or Dnepopetrovsk. Corn here, corn there, corn everywhere only broken up by the occasional Big Jim's Porno Emporium. I don't know how they stay in business, never really wanted to know, just bear in mind that there are millions of truckers out there. Millions.
     "When we get to Lansing, I'm supposed to call Rebecca," I said. "She said she will give us a location and time to do the interview."
     "Do you think she's legit?" Lloyd asked, stifling a yawn.
     "I don't know for sure, but she seemed on the up-and-up. I admit it was weird with her calling, out of the blue, like that. What's bothering you about it?"
     "Timeline, for one thing," Lloyd said. "If the woman she saw was Jamie, and were going on the theory that she was talking to her daughter, that makes her a 16-year-old college student. Not impossible, just highly unusual."
     "I know," I sighed. "Throw in the idea that Jamie would come back to Lincoln, for whatever reason, and risked being recognized, by someone, strikes me as being an unnecessary risk, if you've been trying to stay invisible, for so long."
     "Although, when you think about it, the stadium is a good counter-intuitive place to hide in plain sight," Lloyd was in full-on analysis mode. "You see one person, alone, and you can focus on them, scan their face, how they stand, and all that. In a crowd, there is constant motion, yours and the observed person. Factor in differences like age and rudimentary disruptors like sunglasses and hats, and a target could stay well hidden."
     "All that is Private Detecting 101," I said. "You and I both know not to look at hair color or facial hair. To focus on noses and ears, just like Sherlock."
     "But both of us are trained...well...you are. I maintain that someone could come out of hiding, at least once, in a crowded situation and not be taking a very big risk."
     That reminded me. "One misgiving I've had all along, is just how reliable Rebecca's sighting is. I don't know what her spark of insight was, or how she knew to contact us."
     "Stacy," Lloyd said, flatly.
     "Explain," I said.
     "Logically, the only person that knows that we're looking for Jamie, outside of Capt. Charming, Chief of Detectives, is Stacy. I'm betting that those friends that saw Jamie on that last night have maintained contact, united by their shared experience of their connection to Jamie's disappearance. Stacy calls Rebecca, sparks Rebecca' memory, she gets the digits and gives us a ringy-ding."
     I nodded. "You're spot on," I said. "Do you also pitch movie ideas to Lifetime?"
    He told me I was number one.
     We got to East Lansing. A much nicer little town than Fresno. Rather than drying up like an earthworm caught on a driveway, the rain and wind lashing us, made us forgo our angle at getting tickets. Neither of us felt like being lashed to the tiller for four hours.
     We found a cool little blues bar called the Green Door. We waited out the storm and the game. Lloyd will fill you in on how that went. Late into the night, my phone chirpity-chirped and Rebecca made contact.
     "Did you make it to town? she asked, very quietly, not exactly whispering, but not where she didn't mind being overheard.
     "Yes, we did. We're at a place called the Green Door Do you know it?"
     "I know it," she said. "I'll meet you there, tomorrow night, at 7 o'clock. Just one piece of advice, don't eat there." and she hung up.
     I turned to Lloyd who was just getting a plate of tater tots and chicken wings to console his broken little heart. "We have a date with a hot doctor, here, tomorrow night."
     "How do you know she's hot?"
     "She sounds hot, and besides, right now she's our only option to the prom, so, of course she's hot."
     Lloyd drizzled a puddle of ranch dressing on his plate and tucked into his tater tots, like they, and they alone could make up for his sadness and disappointment. I watched him get about halfway through the order.
     "Oh, yeah," I blurted out. "I just remembered. Rebecca said not to eat here. Health Department stuff and nonsense."
     Lloyd picked up one of the tots and examined it, closely, as if he could switch his eyes to scanning electron microscope mode. For all I knew, he could. "That's what the ranch dressing is for," he said. Popped another hapless victim into his maw and chewed.