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January 15th, 2016

[info]wants in [info]repose

public, pinned.

[As Sheriff Martin, not long after the Winter Weather Warning is canceled. Post is pinned to the top of the town forums.]

[He posts the flyer.]

ATTN, RE: BENNY WILLIAMS:

In the matter of Benny Williams, there is insufficient evidence to point to an abduction at this time. As such, we are turning our efforts to the area surrounding the BusyBee playground and surroundings (interior and exterior), the point the child was last seen.

Need able-bodied volunteers at the PreK-8 school to assist with the search. Until the State Police and K-9 Units join us, we need bodies. Please dress warmly, with good walking shoes/boots, and bring a flashlight, if you're able. Report to the school's office, where a mobile command center has been set up or come to the police station. If you need a ride, call the SO, or, if you can't help search, we could use volunteers to taxi others out to the school.

Please, no ATVS or UTVS in the woods, and no dogs or children. If you have a two-way radio, we will be using frequency [#].

If you cannot come out to help, supplies are also appreciated. Flashlights, batteries, warm food, water, gloves, and so on are always helpful. We could use others to help continuing to post flyers on the north side of town.


Call 911 with any information immediately. Time is of the essence. Call [SO #] with questions or concerns, or reply here. I'll do my best to respond in a timely manner. Thank you for all your help.

Sincerely,
Cris Martin

[info]sonrisa in [info]repose

Aubrey R

[Early, when the weather breaks.]

[Locked to Aubrey R]
we're being fucking called to the frontlines, yeah?

[info]verbumdomini in [info]repose

Antique Store: Louis & Claire

Who: Louis Donovan and Claire Johnson
What: Harmless shopping
Where: Antique Store
When: Before the disappearance.
Warnings/Rating: Maybe spooky.

Claire had prayed for a sign. )

[info]rasatabula in [info]repose

Jack & Clem: family reunion

Who: Jack P & Clem M
What: Family reunions and hard-bitten news. Or something.
When: Before Bennie-disappearance
Where: The newspaper office over Alexandria Books.
Warnings: Surly bad humor and snide catty commentary.

The newspaper offices were small. The entryway was to the right of the wide-plated windows of the bookstore and the stairs curled around the building possessively until they ejected you at the lip of a step up past a plate-glass door into the murky set of rooms that was the office. Small possibly excused the cramped nature of the place: a long trestle table ran down the middle of the room, laden with computers, printers, telephones, notepads, crumpled takeout cartons and coffee cups languishing in corners. There was a large, industrial printer shoved along the length of the wall to the immediate left on entering. It was partly responsible for the heat, and for the noise.

There was a notch of a kitchen carved out of the main rooms, and a bathroom door with a lopsided sign to the right. And at the very end of the room, blocked off by virtue of partition walls and a glass door with blinds slung so low they had clearly been torn to remain permanently down, the editorial office itself.

Jack's office was a nest of petty misery if not outright bebauchery. It looked like it hadn't been cleaned by anyone who knew the definition of the word in significant amounts of time, if not decades. There was a couch against the back-wall, which was leather and looked as if it had been on its last legs some distance ago and a heavy broad desk, much spread with more detritus. Buried behind and underneath and below all the shit, photographs could be dug out - there was one of a smiling, laughing redhead with her face tipped upward toward the camera. There was one of a sprawling yawn of a vista, all sand and dirt and fiercely blue sky. And one of a street-market in Ho Chi Minh city. There were no framed prints of newspaper column inches. No awards, save one that had missed the sweep and was propping up a corner of the desk.

Jack himself? Spread on his back on the couch, with a handful of papers and his eyebrows knit together in what might have been agony over prose or simply the hangover. The room smelled like cigarettes and coffee and spilled whiskey sodden into carpets. He had at least showered. But he was red-eyed and sleepless and furious with the state of the newspaper, not helped by the fact he refused to use more than three words at any one point in editing, lest it provoke what he now thought of as a curse.

[info]inconscient in [info]repose

Public

[Public]

Anyone searching for that little boy, food and coffee's on us. Long as it takes.