8. Toys

Harvey. [MUSIC PLAYING]

I want to talk to you, Harvey.

I have something I want to tell you. I heard the words, but I couldn't move. I want to talk to you, Harvey. I have something I want to tell you.

“I opened my eyes and realized I was dreaming.”

All I could see was my pillow in the dark room. I couldn't even move my head. I was so tired. Someone was knocking on my door. I need to talk to you.

I'd been out processing PD's crime scene until 5 a.m. My legs ached from being out in the cold so long. It was after six by the time the sheriff dropped me off. And now it was-- Hello.

I forced myself to move my eyes a couple of inches so I

could see the clock radio. 715. How the hell did everyone in town know exactly what room I was in? She wasn't going away.

I had no choice but to slide off the edge of the bed

“and take the 7 steps on the hotel carpet to the door.”

I was in my boxers so I only opened the door a crack. Yes. Here at the FBI agent. My boyfriend is good. I can't go to the sheriff.

PD's girlfriend. Shit.

Now I felt sick as well as exhausted.

It was like a severe hangover but at least without the headache. She was maybe 22. Tattered hair, a tight-eyed shirt with deep circles under her eyes and slightly messy, reddish brown hair. She smelled like a sticky bar room floor.

Can you give me a minute to get dressed? Yes, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you as just-- I think I have an emergency. OK, hang on.

I closed the door and stumbled back to the bed. No one told her PD was killed last night. Why she couldn't go to the sheriff I had no idea. I hated this kind of talk. All I could think about was getting it over with and going back to sleep.

I pulled on my pants and a t-shirt. The socks, though, I just couldn't get them on. I opened the blinds. The sun was hazy under the oppressive smokey dome. I don't even know why I bothered opening the blinds.

I let her in. Thank you so much. She sat on the chair and I sat on the bed. I haven't seen him in four days. If the sheriff hates us, so I didn't know what else to do.

Four days? Yeah. I think it's my fault. We're fighting and I kicked him out of the court. I know what's your boyfriend's name.

Clay. That woke me up. Now I really thought I might be sick. Clay, not PD. PD who was PD.

Sorry, I'm not awake yet. You had a fight with your boyfriend Clay and kicked him out of the car. Where was this? We were on 233. Just a bit into Nevada.

And why don't you want to go to the sheriff? Clay. He's a carpenter. He does the most beautiful woodwork. He bakes toys for kids, little trucks.

He could bake anything. But sometimes in the past, he stole a few things and he was arrested. So the sheriff just has a bad opinion of him. My stomach ached, but I wasn't tired anymore. There was no way I was telling the sheriff Clay was missing.

I needed to buy some time. There was only one thing I could do and I already hated myself for it.

“Why did that asshole have to step in front of my car right at that moment?”

I have to make some coffee. Give me a minute. Okay.

I poured water into the scaly old coffee maker that was in the room.

“I always wondered who actually used these things.”

Miserable bastards like me, I guess. The last refuge of the damned. I futced around with a coffee packet and stood over the thing watching it percolate. I was just stalling. Might as well just get it over with.

I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name. Coral. Okay, Coral. Are you sure Clay's missing?

He didn't just run off? Maybe he met someone. If you're fighting, maybe he just figured he'd be better off starting somewhere else with a blank slate.

I never thought I'd be doing this, but I was doing it.

Keep what it do with that. He loves me. You know, Coral. A lot of times people just leave their whole past behind and just become someone else. And the people they used to know never see are here from them again.

That really happens. Yes, we see that sort of thing all the time. But we were in the desert. He couldn't just walk off. He could have hitchhiked a salt lake or Reno.

Can't you track him down? It depends. If he changes his name, that can be pretty tough. In this day and age, you can change pretty much every fact about your past if you really want to. She just kept crying.

I thought this might actually be working. Usually people freak out when you suggest that their family members are loved ones just left their lives behind and disappeared. Maybe Coral was gullible.

Or maybe Clay really was the type to take off and never come back.

But I was on a roll, might as well close the deal.

“The other thing you have to consider, Coral, is that Clay is an adult.”

We can't file a missing person's report about an adult who just vanishes if there's no evidence of a crime. If an adult decides they don't want to be in contact with someone, even a girlfriend or family, there's really nothing law enforcement can do about it. The FBI doesn't really do missing persons cases like this anyways, but if I could put her off, she'd be even less likely to go to the sheriff.

Is there any evidence that a crime was committed here? Coral? No, I don't think so. She seemed to calm down a bit after my talking tour. You're going to make notes, though, right? You'll write that I came and told you Clay was missing.

I got my notebook off the dresser and started writing in it. Of course, we talked more, but she didn't put up too much of a defense. She seemed pretty transient herself, so maybe she'd been through things like this before. After she left, I just sat on the bed for a minute, then I ran to the toilet and puked. I'll spare you the details, but I was in there for a while.

The revolting smell of the burnt coffee I'd forgotten about just made everything worse. I dumped out the coffee through myself on the bed expecting to pass out, but I just laid there staring at the red light on the smoke detector. The bulging eyes of J.P. Straugh kept looking into my thoughts, holding out Clay's wallet with that knowing smile. I'd watched Clay die and did nothing.

Now his girl was looking for him.

P.D. was dead. He'd never listened to his heavy metal music again.

If I hadn't crashed my car like some kind of idiot, he'd probably be head banging somewhere right now. Or at least he'd be asleep, which is where I desperately wanted to be. I kept seeing those glazed and scared dead eyes looking up at the sky, looking for the sun which would never shine for that kid again. You came to look for three missing kids, and now you've got two deaths on your hands.

The Sheriff's words from last night were still ringing in my ears. Not long after I arrived, as I stood there looking at my car with a shiny hubcaps, Sheriff's still water came over to me. It's truly a sad thing that's happened down here at Agent Cutes. It's a terrible shame that you wreck your car like that and caused all this commotion.

Don't you worry, though, son. I put in a call to Bruno, another mechanic in town. He's going to take care of your car for you. We'll have a deputy way here until he removes your vehicle. I didn't say anything. Did you know they stole P.D.'s wallet?

“Wanted to make it look like the poor boy was robbed?”

I still didn't say anything. He really wasn't a bad kid.

After witnessing what went on here tonight, I believe P.D. must have been involved with the

satanical cult that's operating out here, and that they didn't like him helping out with your car. I understood full while I was taking a risk bringing the federal government into this mess. Of course, I thought the federal government would have taken this more seriously. You're a brave man operating on your own out here with no backup. Cudos to you, Agent Cutes.

After dropping that turret on my head, he walked away. I had no idea why P.D. was killed, and there was no reason to speculate that it had anything to do with me or a satanic cult. With all the drifters and ex-cons out in the desert, just about anything could have happened to him.

“That's what my professional thinking was trying to tell me.”

My gut knew better. I tried to take my mind off of P.D. But it ended up going straight back to coral and our missing boyfriend Clay.

Who might also be alive if I'd never set foot in this place. I felt sick all over again.

It was early enough that I could afford to try for a couple more hours of sleep. I closed my eyes, and I knew I'd be dreaming before I was even asleep. A kid's face was right in front of mine. A long, pale, fractured face. Watery, yellowish eyes. He was dead. His eyes were dead.

He was just there and gone like a ghost, but it was just a fragment of a dream.

“I put my head down again and thought about flowers and grassy fields and sank down into sleep.”

On my mouth, a clammy finger. I bolted upright in the kid's face was there again. Just long enough to burn the image into my retina, and faster than speech I heard is voice. I can tell you the secret. I side up and bed and caught a whiff of stinking rotten apple pie. It passed by me in an instant like the breeze from a bird flying close.

I was too wound up to sleep. There was nothing to do now, but swallow all that and go to on with my day. I'd get breakfast and try again. Just as I put my hand on the door handle to leave. Hello. Agent Koot. This is Bruno. I got your car. There's much mechanical wrong with it. I can bring it by. If you need it right away, it's a bit crumpled in the front. It's all.

Yeah, I'm a bit crumpled in the front myself. Huh? If you could drop it off at the casino, I'd appreciate it. Thank you, Bruno. The red and green zigzags on the hallway carpet led me towards the elevator doors. When that big Santa stopped beside me.

Are you the FBI agent in room for 18? Yes. I heard about the mechanic last night. Do you really think a satanic cult was involved? What? No. I don't. I can't discuss the case. It's an open case. Jesus. I pushed the elevator button.

But Santa just stayed there. He joined me for the elevator ride. On the way down, I just stood there staring at the elevator door and not discussing the case. The Santa didn't say anything either. Just as I got to the front of a casino, there was a terrific sound of exhaust pipes. I turned and watched as a beautiful blue Mustang. Maybe 1970 pulled up.

The paint glinted strangely in the gloomy light. North Carolina plates.

The occupant got out. The first thing I noticed was as wide to the smile.

The teeth shone like ivory, but the smile was full of charm. He wore a red shirt with floral embroidery. A large silver cross hung in a chain. He didn't seem like the type who ever got to the top buttons of the shirt. He might have been about 55 or so. He threw the keys over the cartomy and I instinctively caught them. Yep. I got two bags in the trunk. I looked around and for the first time there were no

Santa's at the front of the casino. I'm not, I don't work here. He looked at me more carefully.

“Well, I'll be damned. Do you must be the FBI agent. That's right. I am. He walked over and held out his hand.”

Zuckrazine here. Straight out of Murphy, North Carolina. Baptist Minister. I put my hand out to

You're like sack colleges for criminals, right? Yeah, sort of.

“That's just about what I do myself. Sackology. That's the logo of the saki. In Greek, it's saki or”

Suke means soul, the breath of life. You try to figure out what the guilty souls are up to so you put them in jail. I try to keep them all the right path of righteousness and add a hail. The tall Santa ran out just then. I'm so sorry. I handed Santa the keys. He's got two bags in the trunk. Santa rushed to the back of the Mustang. My associates should be here later today and we should sit down and talk things over when it gets here. I like to invite you to come to my show

and support the new Ministry of the Lord. I'm sorry, Reverend. I can't discuss an open case.

An open case. What are you talking about? He gave me a hard and been used to look.

Agent Coots. I've been a minister for over 30 years. You're one of the most open cases I've ever seen. It's written all over you. I reckon the worm of conscience is consumed just about half your mind by now, but don't be alarmed. I get that you're a criminal mind reader and they change it. But I've been looking into the hearts of men a long time. You come talk to me sometime, my friend. The Santa was opening the car door. Probably to park the Mustang. Zane stopped them and took

“the keys. You know, long second thought there. I think I'll park in myself. Thank you.”

Then he winked at me. I don't want no Santa clothes for in my car. Hope you don't mind. Zachary Zane got into his car and fired it up. The rest of the day, I couldn't shake that preacher's look. It felt like he was looking right through my eyes into what I'd said that morning to coral. Like he'd seen me watching clay go under the waves.

All through the day, I wanted to get on the phone with my uncle Jerry to feel grounded to something outside this place. Later that evening, when I was walking back to my room, I heard glasses clinking in the casino and I decided to grab another seven on seven before dinner. Of course, dinner was going to be a steak sandwich from Chris Cringles.

“Back on the gambling floor, someone hit the jackpot on a Santa slot machine.”

I walked up to the bar and tried to get the bartender's attention. There weren't many people in here, but he was chatting with someone at the end of the bar. It was Anna. Now wearing a purple dress.

Why she was always hanging around this dingy casino? I had no idea.

Nice suit. You're really classic in the place up. She was right. As usual, no one else was wearing a suit in here. Playing the slots cowboy? Just thinking. Don't hurt yourself. I don't plan to. I did want to ask you a few questions, though.

Oh, an interrogation. I thought you'd never ask. I ordered a seven on seven. The bartender gave Anna a gin and tonic. She just sifted hers. I hadn't seen her doing any gambling, and she wasn't pounding back the booze. Maybe she really was just bored to death and couldn't find much to do around this town. I asked her about the missing kids. She'd seen the news when it happened, but didn't know much more.

Still, once I started making headway with the investigation, it was entirely possible that she'd know something useful. In any way, it was pretty comfortable just sitting here a bit. She was the kind of person who just made you feel at ease without even knowing her. So tell me. What made you want to join the FBI? I shifted him, I see it a bit. I told the story a lot, but the question still seemed to come out of the

blue. I knew when I was nine that I wanted to be a policeman. I was out shopping with my mom one day. Kids are supposed to like chicken fingers. I can't throw away money like that. I grew up in Schwarmish again. It's a GM factory town outside of Detroit. We were Christmas shopping just the two of us. You make me so tired, Harvey.

She had these bags full of presents, and I was carrying some too. She didn't want to walk all the way to the light to get over to our car, so we were just going to cut across the road, J walking. Anyways, it just happened in a flash. She went out ahead of me.

Move it, you stupid son of a bitch.

“A taxi just slammed right into her, then took off without stopping.”

Being a kid, I thought that cab driver was the worst bad guy out there. So I decided to become a cop to put bad guys like him away. I stopped there. I really hated this story. And I put her hand on mine just in a friendly way because of what I'd said. One of the waitresses walked by and stared at us.

I'm so sorry, Harvey. Was she... She was in the hospital for a few days before. Could she speak at all? We spoke. But that was as far as I could go.

So you were raised by your dad after that?

My uncle took me in. And did they ever catch him? Who? The taxi driver? No.

I needed some fresh air after that.

“Out on the street, there seemed to be more trash on the ground than before.”

Chip bags glinting under the street lamps. The garbage reminded me of the Mr. Potato Head. My mom had just bought me for Christmas the night she got hit. It was out there on the road. The little nose and mustache and eyes were scattered.

Standing there frozen as a kid. I wondered if I would still get to play with the Mr. Potato Head. I don't think I ever did. It felt like night now. Maybe it was night.

In the gloom it was all the same. Some shots were open and some weren't.

“A woman crossed the road fast when I was a half-block away.”

I thought maybe it must be night because the dark red of the sky was even darker now. And the street lamps were on. The lamp posts Shawn against a soft window and I caught sight of his reflection. Jarvis, who wrestled with me over a gave's bike. I couldn't tell what was in the shopping bag.

But the way the welder kept it close, it made me wonder. I followed it at distance. I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me. It was a simple shadow exercise. I'd seen the pawn shop before on another one of my walks.

A handwritten sign in the window warning potential shop lifters that the owner would prosecute. And that if they were really in need or hungry to just come in and talk to the owner instead of trying to steal from him. Now the welder was walking in there with that weirdly shaped shopping bag clutched tight to his chest. I felt some ripple come up behind me along the street and tilt me off balance. Luckily my exhaustion just catching up to me.

I had to cling to the wall for a moment. And as I recovered from whatever that was, Jarvis emerged from the pawn shop. He went directly to the 7/11 next door. I waited till he came out. He had a six pack of beer and a carton of moral burrows under his arm.

He came towards me and I took a few steps back into the darkness alongside the building.

He never turned. He didn't see me.

Well, go fast. I wouldn't wait. I'm a counter in the pawn shop where gave little Star Wars men and the big circular spaceship. There was still a bit of the fishing line Jarvis had used to hang it up. That's the Millennium Falcon. Kids go nuts for that one. 15 for all of it. For a second, I wondered if I should use paper towels or gloves to pick these up.

Fingerprints weren't going to be an issue though. This wasn't evidence. These were Gabe's toys. You got a kid. He's going to love this stuff. Do you have a bag? I took three fires out of my wallet and left them on the counter. Back out on the street, the bag felt lighter than I thought it would. I kicked a pizza box out of my way on the sidewalk and turned back towards the casino. So Jarvis had sold his step-sung's toys

for beer money. I put the toys in the closet and shut the door.

Coral and Anna. Pete Flittish as Sheriff Stillwater. Mike Maserkovic as the big Santa, Bruno and the

“pawn shop owner and Alan Enlow as Zachary Zane. Don't forget to leave a rating and if you'd like”

to support the show, go to Harvey and Hell.com to find out how. Thanks for listening and hope to see

See you next week.