Chapter 20 first quarter

No matter how desperate I was to go home, the doctor didn't let me go until the next morning.The trooper drove me back to Denver.My right wrist is sore where the doctor gave me an IV. Having not eaten for two days, I should be feeling very hungry, but the emotional blow has affected my appetite.I had to force myself to chew a banana slowly and drink a few sips of orange juice. As we turned onto the street where my house was located, I saw maple trees in front of our Victorian house, a moving van and a four-wheeled delivery truck in my driveway, and a Denver police car parked roadside.In the distance are some other cars and two local TV trucks.

Avoiding the walkers, I saw the female reporter from the TV station striding towards me, with a microphone under her arm, and a cameraman following her.The counterparts of the opposite sex from the rival TV station are following not far behind.Other reporters climbed out of the other cars. "How do they know?" I asked. "Go inside." As I limped across the lawn, the state trooper stuck his arms out like a wall.The trousers and shirt the doctor lent me hung loosely on me (my own were scratched), reinforcing my sense of weakness.I managed to get inside and shut the door, blocking out the voices of the reporters calling my name.

But other voices take their place.A police officer, several men in blazers, and some with experimental equipment stood in the living room, talking to each other. One of the men, a stocky moustache, noticed me in the hall and came over. "Mr. Denning?" The act of nodding made me feel dizzy. "I'm Lieutenant Webb. This is Sergeant Pedrenton." He pointed to a thin, clean-shaven young man. "We checked the top floor, the basement, and the bushes behind, and there was no trace of your wife and son," Pedlandon said. It took me a long time to understand what the detective was talking about.The cops who came into the house the night before said Kate and Jason weren't home, if Patty brought them into Kate's volvo why are these cops now checking the top floor and... I feel sick and I get it, they're searching Hide tight corpses.

"You don't look well, Mr. Denning. You'd better sit down." Weber ushered me into the living room as the others stepped aside. "I'll pour you some water." Even though the doctor injected me with fluids, I still felt parched.When the detective came back with a full glass of water, I was confused, as if this was his home and I was a guest.I clumsily took the glass with my bandaged hand and took a deep swig.My stomach growled in protest. I tried my best to ask: "Don't you know where my wife and son are?" "Don't know yet," Weber said. "The state troopers passed on what you told them, but we need to ask you some questions." He looked at the bruises on my face.

"Do you feel physically strong enough to answer the question?" "The sooner I answer, the sooner I can get my family back." They gave each other a look I didn't understand until later - they weren't as confident as I was that they would get my family back. "It would be helpful if..." Pedranton glanced at my fingers as they emerged from the bandages wrapped around my hands. "We need to get your fingerprints." "Take mine...but why..." "So we can separate yours from the guy who kidnapped your family. Which is his bedroom?"

"Left at the top of the stairs," I said breathlessly. "The room is down the hall, on the right." "The one with the mitt on the bed," Weber told a technician. "Baseball glove?" I asked nervously. "In his bed?" Paid Langton frowned: "Yes, does that matter?" "That glove belonged to Patty a long time ago." "I do not understand." "He said he didn't want that shitty thing anymore because he had better ones." "Slow down, Mr. Denning, we can't keep up with your train of thought."

I struggled, as best I could, to make them understand what was going on when a technician pressed my finger on a black pad and printed them one by one on a sheet of paper.