06/29/2020 Snippet, HOLDOUTS.

Seldom have I dealt with a story this mulish. It’s so bad I’m now wondering if I said something wrong to it. I was gonna come back to this setting some day, but now I’m wondering if I should…


The first day’s investigation went — well, not exactly nowhere. We did determine that there weren’t a sudden rise in disappearances, suspicious accidents, and/or drained corpses in the streets. And before you ask; it really is amazing what evidence people will resolutely ignore, for as long as possible. We almost lost Bangor in 1966 because the city council kept blaming bears for all the attacks. Hell, some people still buy that story. It’s easier than admitting the truth.

Major Mitchell looked on the ball, though. When we got back, Mitchell and I retired to the office to confer while Pam went through patrol reports and Greta… told the director everything we had done, I suppose. I was getting a real apple-polisher vibe off of that vampire, which I found vicariously annoying; but she had to work in this town and I didn’t. And if I stepped on somebody’s toes, I’d be stepping somewhere else soon. She didn’t have that privilege.

The major was more than ready to explain his theories on the lair. “I think they were in torpor,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Bill,” I said (we agreed that we could be “Bill” and “Jack” in his office). “Every single time a lair pops up under somebody’s radar, the people in charge blame torpor.”

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