M.I.A.

Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Corey

Cutter has come home, changed Mia's fluids and is eating dinner when a knock comes at the door. I hover close to Cutter as he answers the door. I'm surprised to see Officer Frank on the other side. Thank you, Jesus!

But then I realize he's dressed in civilian clothes and parked just beyond the porch is an unmarked car. Where's the SWAT team?

"Wayne Howley?"

Cutter grunts. "Yeah, that's me."

Frank puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out his badge. "Officer Frank Stapleton. You mind if I come in?"

Cutter seems to deliberate this for a long moment. He shoves the door wider. "Sure."

Frank steps into the kitchen and takes a quick glance around. "Nice place you got here. Nice...and remote."

Cutter goes back to the table and sits again. "I like quiet. Don't like to be bothered."

Frank flashes a quick, depreciative smile.

Cutter gives him a narrow eye, takes a bite and then talks around it, "You mind telling me why you're here?"

Frank shrugs, his eyes lingering around the room as if cataloguing all the possible tells that make Cutter a sociopathic murderer. "You wouldn't believe it actually. I got the strangest message today. It's just an unofficial little checkup."

Huh. So either my little "prank" finally got to dear old Frank's conscience or he'd gotten word of what I'd done in the houses. Maybe I even hit his house and freaked him and the missus out when they got home. Even so, how unofficial is this? Does anybody even know Frank's out here doing this? Did he just decide to look into it himself?

Cutter shovels the final spoonful of instant mashed potatoes into his mouth and stands to put his plate in the sink. "So, what are we checking on?"

Frank steps a little closer, as if trying to intimidate Cutter. It's a stupid idea. "You ever hear of a girl named Mia Lowell?"

Cutter's face remains completely stoic. "Nope."

I expect that. I doubt he knows the name of the girl upstairs.

"How about a Corey Rossi?"

Won't know me either.

Cutter glances over his shoulder, his face a mask that I don't understand. I've never seen that expression on his face before. "No. Why? What'd they do? Up and run away together?"

I wish. I don't even know if Mia will be able to use her leg again.

Frank stares at him for a long moment. "They're missing persons. Don't you watch the news, Mr. Howley?"

Cutter gestures toward the living room. "I ain't got a television. Rots your brain."

"So," Frank says, shoving his hands in his pocket and doing a slow walk across the kitchen, "what do you do out here all alone?"

Cutter turns and smiles at him. All snake-oil. "I'm an artist. And I collect knives, go hunting and fishing. You wanna see my trophies and my favorite pieces?"

Frank seems ignited by this idea, probably a chance to explore more of the house and look for clues. What a hack. Go back to the mystery mobile, Scooby. "Sure."