Free Most men can't make it through even five words of what I'm about to tell you by Nicole Carlson

governor. One guy told a story, said John
    got up to speak at a friend's funeral and had this huge dildo down his pants, up there cryin' and he's got this huge bulge in
    his pants the whole time-"
    "-That's out of context. Kurt would have loved that if he'd been alive to see it."
    "What I'm saying is he's an attention addict. And now, he takes your crazy stories and blogs them and people eat it up.
    Got all these lonely web junkies to start treating you like rock stars. So maybe, just maybe John is-"
    "-He's still in the shitter, by the way."
    Falconer glanced quickly down at his watch, then back.
    "It's been nine minutes."
    "He's not coming out."
    "Probably ate a lot of cheese. You know the transition from real life to hal ucination is completely seamless, right?"
    "I'm tel in' you, detective. We can sit here all day, he's not comin' out of there. But we don't even gotta wait that long. Few minutes from now, somebody else is gonna go in there. They're gonna open the door and you're gonna see it's empty. Mr.
    Beard will be nowhere."
    "And you know this how?"
    "Because I've seen it happen before. John and I are out here al the time."
    We fell silent. Three minutes. Five.
    I said, "Look, go up there and knock on the door. As long as he's been in there, he's probably passed out or something at
    the very least."
    Five more minutes. Without a word, Falconer threw open his door and walked toward the shitter. I followed, struggling to
    waddle out of the low-slung porsche. Freaking thing had to sit six inches off the ground. You had to do a full sit-up to get
    out.
    By the time I made it to my feet, Falconer had already ducked across the barrier of yellow construction tape and was
    walking up to the door of the blue shit booth. He rapped on the door. Nobody answered.
    He did it again, this time saying something through the door. Nothing. He did it again.
    By now three or four guys had stopped working and were staring. Falconer talked to a guy and gestured toward the Port-
    A-Potty, presumably asking somebody to come open it. The guy followed Falconer back, worked a mechanism on the
    door, popped it open.
    I stepped up beside Falconer. The door swung open. And inside was...
    TA DA!
    ...Nobody.
    Falconer looked at me, eyes narrowed, his brain going a mile a minute. A kid trying to figure out the magician's trick.
    From behind him the worker said, "Them doors get stuck sometimes. You swing 'em closed real hard and that latch can
    fall shut."
    Falconer pointed over my shoulder and growled, "Go wait in the car."
    I did, hearing my back pop as I curled myself into a car that probably cost twice what my house did. I sat for several
    minutes and watched Falconer question construction workers, probably asking them about a coworker with a goatee and
    a limp. Their blank expressions told the story.
    Falconer had left the keys in the car and I twisted the ignition so I could turn on the radio. He had a CD in. Some kind of
    jazz. I turned it off.
    He gathered three guys together and they moved the Port-A-Potty, Falconer scraping around the gravel underneath with
    his boot, like he thought he'd find a trap door there. He argued with the guys some more.
    Ten minutes later he stomped back to the car, throwing himself into the driver's seat so hard it shook the porsche on its
    suspension. He turned the key and the engine rumbled to life. He cranked the wheel and hit the gas and a cloud of dust
    chased us from the construction site.
    "Tell me where he went," commanded Falconer.
    "Your guess is as good as mine. John and I got his binoculars and watched the site for three weeks when they started
    construction. The whole thing seemed suspicious."
    "What? Why?"
    "It's a long story. I'll tel you later. Things happen at that mall. Anyway, we waited for somethin' weird and we found it. One of the three toilets, the person who went inside never came out. Blind luck John happened to notice that. We had a plan,
    were gonna come in at night, plant a little