Free Flutter by L. E. Green Page A

with crunching numbers for the pub. In secret, Larry had a hidden agenda. He sat in his apartment on the couch with his bifocal glasses drinking a glass of milk, rum and ice. His eyes were glued to the screen. He typed into the Google search engine “ABIGAIL PAIGE,” searching for missing persons’ reports to see if Abigail’s name or photo had surfaced. Nothing! He tried another search “MISSING WOMAN UTICA, NEW YORK.” Nothing came up. He sipped his drink and grunted. He tried again, “RUNAWAY ABIGAIL PAIGE UTICA, NEW YORK.” Nothing! That slippery bitch.
    Larry had become obsessed with getting to the bottom of Abigail’s mysterious appearance and didn’t trust her situation one bit. She had been around for a while and Larry didn’t understand why her memories hadn’t returned by now. She’s lying!
     He grew to think she was tolerable, but didn’t feel she was worthy of his complete loyalty and adoration, especially since she was curt and often sported an attitude he cared not to entertain. He made a concerted effort to be sure he didn’t get too attached or too emotionally involved. He couldn’t understand why Frankie, who was so street smart, could be so weak for this girl. She could ruin everything. He didn’t even bother questioning why Roger allowed himself to get attached. Horny bastard!
     The soft blue glow of the computer screen illuminated his chubby semi wrinkly face. He kept thinking of search combinations he hadn’t tried. “MISSING PERSON’S REPORT UTICA, NY.” Again, nothing. He was silently enraged. He clenched his fist and took a sip of his drink. He was determined and focused. The time slipped away. Hours passed and Larry wouldn’t give up on finding a lead or a clue.
    “Maybe I should hire a private investigator.” But he had a feeling that wherever she was coming from, she had covered her tracks well. He thought that maybe she was lying about her memory loss. It made sense. Maybe she didn’t want to be found and was intentionally hiding in the pub, away from everything she knew. Even if she was telling the truth, his research would prove that as well. He couldn’t really figure her out, but he insisted that understanding the mysteries of Abigail Paige was going to be his number one priority. He was determined to prove to Frankie that she was not good for business or for him. She had changed Frankie into a person he didn’t understand anymore. Larry didn’t like it.
     
    The sky was a bluish black as the sun set its course to rise for the day. Abigail counted the cracks in the ceiling until the six o’clock morning news came on. She turned on the TV and waited for the weather report. It was 73 degrees. She decided to go for a short run to buy herself time. She put on her sneakers and sweats, grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
     

CHAPTER 5
BOSTON POLICE STATION 10:00 AM
     
    The Police station buzzed with detectives, officers and criminals. Many of the detectives had recently arrived for the day and were just punching in. Detective Sydney Brown pulled up to the precinct, ready for the impending argument of Boston baseball versus New York baseball. Detective Brown was a 38 year old New York–born homicide detective for the Boston Police Homicide Unit. He was six feet tall with a medium build, short brown hair and a short beard. 
    He had worked for the department for the past eight years as a detective after serving as an officer for the previous five years. He had started in the Narcotics Unit but quickly found out that homicide was his niche. He pulled his 2009 black Toyota Camry into a parking space, locked the door and walked to the front door.
    “Here it comes,” he thought to himself.
    “How about those Yankees?” the man at the front desk yelled out. His name was Barkley Duckworth, a soon to be retired officer who decided to spend his last six months on the force behind the front desk.
    “Good morning, Duck,” he said full of annoyance. It was best to