Hey, long time no post, eh? Absolutely not what I was planning but, like I’ve said or written before, it is crunch-time at work. With the summer months no-longer quickly approaching but actually here, there are too many orders to keep up with. Not a bad thing for the business but, for any side projects, such as writing about some musty old box someone like me found in an abandoned building, there’s little time to explore the meaning or importance of them. Hell, there’s not much time to go around for me to just sit down and write what has been going on with this stuff. And the more I read of these papers, the more I need to organize and categorize and just try to make it all make some kind of sense to myself and any of you poor saps still reading.

Now add to that rather simple recipe a dash of jealous girlfriend and suddenly you’ll have a meal fit for disappointed readers the world round. Nothing new on that front, by the way. Laura is pulling the same bullshit as before, finding any and all reasons to stick her scrutinizing face in front of what I’m doing, interrupting me when I do manage a moment on the computer with a furrowed brow and crinkled nose and then whining about my interests the rest of the time we’re around each other. You guys and gals that have seen the drop in my posts these past couple of times; you now know why that is.

Has that happened to you before? Where a lover turns into an adversary. When the passion that once had made her every move carry a certain grace, every kiss aflame with hot, wet desire, when that all turns into a bitter brew of avoidance and enduring her clammy and fraying lips. I can’t be alone in that. I know I’m not. Relationships rise and fall all of the time, some built on firmer foundations than others, able to weather more and last through the rough patches. Laura and I, though. What is our foundation? What is it made of? I’ve heard others use these lofty idealistic words for their relationships; “mutual respect”, “a partnership”, “anything and everything for the kids”. We don’t have those. What we do have are some kind moments hastily pushed aside in the name of lust early in our courtship followed by, I guess, a comfort in having someone versus having no one.

I can remember, just after we had become “official”, I had brought her on a midnight picnic. She must have thought it endearing or quirky of me, I know I thought the same of myself but, really, it was the only time I had that was available. There were a few guys let go at work and I had been pulling in some extra money by filling their positions; money in lieu of sleep or socialization. Anyways, there we were, sat on the beach sharing tuna sandwiches and a five-dollar bottle of wine with the stars twinkling overhead. The whole scene was ridiculously romantic, stars, sand, candlelight and nothing but the crashing of waves playing its melody before us.

Whatever we had been talking about, I have since forgotten but, I do remember getting lost in the scent of the sea and Laura body lotion. Every time we came close, I would sneak a little sniff of her to steal some of that scent, some of her. So yeah, we’re on the beach, talking for a bit, making out for a bit, pouring more wine, giggling, all of that goofy early-days crap. And then, a candle gets knocked over. It wouldn’t have been a big deal but, neither of us seemed to have noticed it until the flame had jumped from the beeswax candle to the beach towel. The only reason we even pulled our faces apart was because that small fire had started to nip at our toes.

We both panicked. She screamed. I screamed. Laura kind of spasmodically leapfrogged off of our towel kicking sand all over what was left of our food, knocking out the remaining dregs of the wine and leaving me firmly entrenched on our smoldering towel. I took it with stride though, coolly rolling to the side, before grabbing hold of the burning fabric and smothering it into the sand.

Laura was impressed or, maybe, just took advantage of the moment. She didn’t even say “My hero” or anything like that. With the smell of burnt cotton and salt-laden steam filling the air, our mouths met again and we had each other right there on the beach. It wasn’t our first time but, it was the best sex we’ve had. The kind of sex that pulls you out of your head and draws all attention to the moment, the sensations, the love. We were lost in and around each other; everything, even our own identity taken away from us as we writhed in sand.

So, what happened? How did we snuff out our love just as I had to that shitty little beach towel fire? How did we go from impromptu beach sex, which is every bit as awesome as it sounds, to this active avoidance and loathing? What is this that has crept into our house and slipped between us, severing whatever bonds we had worked on prior? We used to make out for hours on her couch, just enjoying the feel of each other’s lips. Now, there’s only the occasional kiss goodbye for work and that’s only traded out of a sense of obligation.

I just don’t know. It’s like we’re treading water, trying to recoup some of our strength from having just swum a great distance at an impossible speed. We’re both sitting there, doggy-paddling, thinking about whether or not what’s up ahead is worth the required effort of continued swimming. Is it easier to push on at a reduced pace, turn around back to shore or succumb to the ravages of the ocean around us? Lord knows that we’re both swimming by ourselves at this point.

Ah, fuck it.

Fuck her and her vanilla scented perfume.

And, while we’re at it, fuck me too.

Anyways, onto the reason you all are here; the next crop of reports. As promised these are getting interesting now, as if the disappearance of children wasn’t interesting enough for you creeps. The Coopers make their formal appearance, being dicks or, at the very least, belligerent toward the police that were there to help find their son.

Reading through these two reports does not make me feel much empathy toward the Coopers. Granted, there isn’t much in the way of supporting details and these reports are only one side, the official side, of the story. I’m sure they’re factually accurate but, they’re missing great big chunks of a lot of what must have happened. There is no dialogue, for one. We’re not give any clue as to what kind of conversation had been going on; were Detectives Biron and Fionnbarra pleasant to start or did they open their chat with accusations? How were the Coopers? “Hostile and uncooperative” were probably fair words but, in what way? They might have been courteous but, unbending to the will of the strangers at their door. I know if I were to open the front door to be greeted with accusations and a call to authority not earned that I might myself be a bit “agitated.”

But then again, from those two reports it sounds like the Coopers were just plain assholes. Yes, the reports are only giving us one perspective but, it’s not like the cops didn’t have a good reason to be there. The Cooper boy was missing, had been gone from school for a couple of days and was, I guess, still MIA after the weekend. I would have thought or expected more of a show of concern from his parents, at least a show of interest. It was their son for Christ’s sake. I would have held my anger in check for at least a moment, if only to see what the police may have found. Then again, I don’t think I’ve done anything so bad that I’d be afraid to let the cops take a quick look around; maybe that wasn’t the case with the Coopers. Maybe they were in possession of something that was better kept from prying eyes.

After stonewalling the police and then trying to physically fight them, the Coopers were detained and then shoved to the side of their house under threat of Detective Fionnbarra’s pistol. The situation having escalated enough to justify it, Detective Biron took the opportunity and barged into their home calling out for Shane. Both of their reports mention the place being a mess, filled with old furniture and farm tools; not the most wholesome of environments for Shane to be growing up in.

While there must be other reports from a storied past with Detective Biron, we don’t get that here. We aren’t given his history, his past, his previous dealings with the worst of humanity. And without knowing what he has been through, we can have very little idea as to what was going on in his head when he was exploring the Cooper residence. Perhaps he had his gun drawn, calling out Shane’s name while he nervously pointed his pistol at each oddly shaped shadow, thinking that they had moved just outside of his vision. The smell of sweat dripping down his brow, burning past his eyes, and the stale coffee that still lay on his breath mixing in the stuffy air around him.

Both reports mention the Detectives’ inability to find anything that was useful to their investigation. That doesn’t mean that there wasn’t something there but, that maybe it had been obscured by the lack lighting, the clutter wrapping itself around whatever it may have been or even actively hidden, hastily stuffed under the couch when the Coopers saw the cruiser parking out front. Whatever they may have hidden was likely picked back up by either Mr. or Mrs. Cooper when they each reentered their home against the wishes of Detective Fionnbarra.

Unfortunately, neither of the reports go into any detail relating to the actual layout of the home. Was it a one story or two? Attached garage? Number of rooms? None of those details are remarked upon. I find that an odd omission. Maybe some mention of it is made under the censor’s black strips or in some other report not here or so far still lost in this mess of a box.  Without those details, I can only speculate. The description of the interior of the Cooper home leads me to believe that they’re not exactly wealthy, not to mention the fact that they’re living literally in the middle of nowhere. Maybe that’s an assumption too far on my part but, it feels right. My point is, I don’t think it would have been a very large house. If these assumptions of mine are correct, how is it that Detective Biron didn’t hear the scuffle outside as the Coopers attacked his partner nor the sound of Adam Cooper running inside the very same house that Detective Biron was searching, the very cluttered and dark house? While there is a bit of censorship around this part of the reports, both of them mention the oddness of it, Fionnbarra’s remarking upon her calling out to Biron at that moment and Biron’s report mentioning his calling out for Fionnbarra later on and getting the same silent result.

How large does an ill-lit and disorderly house need to be to have a keyed up cop with a gun in his hand not hear the man that had just tackled his partner bull-rushing into that same place?

Well, anyways, finding nothing of great interest inside the home, Detective Biron exited the place and was surprised to find Detective Fionnbarra one detainee short. I love how his report uses the word “allegedly” when describing Fionnbarra’s story about Adam Cooper having run back inside the house. It’s as if he didn’t trust his own partner’s account, as if he hadn’t heard the man running inside the house he had just left.

Fionnbarra’s report has the same situation in it but, she worded it a bit more diplomatically, remarking on the oddity of the event not on the truthfulness of her very partner. This same disparity in their descriptions of this incident persists throughout both reports, as well as in a couple of other’s to be posted in the coming weeks, Biron coming off as a leader delegating responsibilities to his subordinate while Fionnbarra seeming more level-headed, using words like “confer” and “we”; she made it sound like an equal partnership. All around she seemed to have a more well-rounded perspective, reporting on what had happened without the added bravado and political jabs. She didn’t order Detective Biron to do anything, they conferred and worked together. “I opted to continue detaining Mrs. Cooper while Detective Biron gave chase…” is a far cry from “I left someone in charge of it.” Perhaps no slight was intended. Maybe that was just the way Detective Biron wrote, his world view as it were.

Regardless of what actually happened in the house with Detective Biron and Adam Cooper, the latter reemerged for a violent purpose, slamming his blue, or was it black, truck into the side of the Detectives’ cruiser before speeding away down that lonely little road in front of his house. Whatever damage laid into the police cruiser wasn’t so much as to incapacitate the machine and Detective Biron was soon after the fleeing suspect.

Biron’s cruiser was functioning but, after the attack it had only one headlight. I can imagine him sweating through his shirt as he ground the pedal into the floorboards, the blackened silhouettes of the forest around him swallowing both him and Mr. Cooper up ahead, both of them diving ever deeper into the heart of that darkness.

What did Adam do, to get away? How did a beat up truck outrun a police vehicle? Maybe the damage done to the cruiser was more than Detective Biron had made note of. Maybe something had been bent out of shape, or was leaking, spewing the vehicle’s lifeblood with greater vigor each time Biron pressed harder upon the accelerator. Biron probably swore and beat against the steering wheel as the taillights before him became further obscured by the limbs of the trees, further taken from him, further from answering for the missing boy. I bet it took him more than a short while to admit defeat, not just because he’d let a suspect get away but because he’d have to admit that to his female partner immediately upon returning to the Cooper residence. Biron had to overcome some large psychological barriers to do that, I’m sure. But, he did it, he manned up and turned his rattling cruiser around to face the perceived, if nothing more, scorn of a woman. He went back, tail between his legs expecting to be laid into for his inability to perform his duties.

And, then, he finds an out. Biron wasn’t alone in his incompetence. No, Anna had fucked up, not once but twice letting herself be steamrolled by suspects and having them flee from her sight. Do you think Biron let it slide? Or do you think he held it high above her, pointing at it as the prime example for why a woman shouldn’t be doing “man’s work”? Based off of the disparity in the reports, the subtle and not so subtle differences in the perception of the events, I think he was an ass about it.

How was Anna, though? I wonder what strategy she used to deal with all of attacks against her by her fellow policemen. Was she tough, meek, professional, just one of the boys, or just herself? From this report I take it that she was at least on some level a diplomat, willing to work with those she might not have liked to be with in the name of the greater good or, at least, some common goal.

I’m sure after having cussed out each other, it was Detective Fionnbarra that buried the hatchet and suggested they work together in their search of the Cooper residence. Regardless, nothing was found. Nothing of use was found, anyways. The only thing that is mentioned in both reports is the fact that it looked like Shane may have been sleeping on the floor of his parent’s bedroom, the hoarding of farm equipment having taken over all of the other available space.

And where the hell did Mary even go? Adam had the truck and he used it to speed his way out of Dodge, leaving his wife to fend for herself. What did she have? Did she cloak herself in the clutter of her home, allowing herself to be swallowed by the shade of an ill-lit interior as the Detectives scanned through her abode? They must have gone through that house with every reason to find something or someone, especially so after both of them having been embarrassed by their fleeing suspects. Could there have been some passage or hiding space they missed, some dank dark hole clogged with dust and heavy with cobwebs? In the end, I suppose, it doesn’t matter; she got away.

All around it seems that the Coopers were an odd bunch. There are more documents related to them, which will be posted here in the future but, I don’t want to color your opinion of them prematurely. You decide.

Now, as for the notes and the censorship, there isn’t as much here as I would have liked there to be. The last post, with its mention of a fucking travelling church got my attention, as it did yours I’m sure. But, these two reports seem only to have more mundane concerns.

I was kind of hoping for some payoff to those previous notes. There’s no mention of the church, the priest or JJ here. Then again, the notes were likely written as the evidence and connections were coming in so, they might not be following the chronological order the reports do. However, why write the “Adam → JJ” note on the missing persons report that barely had anything to do with Adam Cooper when there’s these two reports that are all about Adam and his wife being awful people? Did I miss something in the previous report, or here? There are more reports dealing with him but, this is his introduction, where and when we really get to meet him. It seems odd to me.

My little theory that Adam ran off to JJ seems more likely now, after having gone through these two reports. JJ could even be the priest:

Father JJ.

Pastor JJ.

Deacon JJ.

Padre JJ.

Doesn’t sound right to me. It’s all too familiar. JJ is what you call your little brother who has a sweet tooth, not the man you rely on for moral advice. Is there some acronym for Jehovah’s witnesses that uses two J’s? Still, I have no doubt now that Adam escaped to a friend by the name of JJ.

There’s plenty more I’d like to write about these two reports but, I’ve kept you all waiting long enough.