Title: Murder on the Rio Puerco
Author: ken_r AKA ken242 AKA Kenneth Renouard
Couples: CC except for Kyle and Ava
Genera: Canon
Rating: mature, maybe
Disclaimer: The actors of Roswell are not mine. I merely suggest a life many years later that they might have lived.
Where my Spanish is correct thanks to Misha. Where there are mistakes, they are the products of a public school education behind the gym.
Summary: 15 years after graduation. Max had made Liz leave because he thought being with him was too dangerous for her. Liz moves on with her life obtains a doctorate degree in Anthropology and marries Doctor Frank Johnson, a geologist. While camping in the back country of the Rio Puerco, she and her husband are brutally attacked and he is murdered. Her old friends surround her. Max realizes that Liz is in more danger away from him than with him.
Murder on the Rio Puerco
Ta was what the archeologist would call “The early man.” Ta had no idea that he was an early man. He only knew that he was a man of his village. Ta had no concept of men not of some village. Ta had no concept of any men who did not think and live as he did. Ta did not have the concept of much outside the drainage of the river valley below him. Ta sat watching the valley. The river flowed below him. The river, which sometimes hid for generations, then it would appeared and flourished. Vegetation grew along its banks and even when the river hid, the trees and shrubs seemed to know that it had just gone deeper in the sand. The substance of water was still there. Ta knew that by patient watching he might find food. The great wolves had been seen less every generation. The long toothed ones had been gone for sometime. There were still rumors and it was best to be on guard. A long tooth was a formidable enemy. There still were other dangers and Ta was watchful. He was only one person and what ever he could take must be something that one man would be capable of killing and carrying back to his family. Of course, Ta wasn’t his real name. His real name was only know by his society and then, only on ceremonial occasions. Even the woman who bore his children didn’t know it. By sacred law she couldn’t be of his clan. She would belong to the woman’s society within her own clan. His own children were of his woman’s clan. He would care for them and look to their welfare, but just as he tended to the children of his sister, his offspring would be tended and trained by the brother of his woman.
Ta remained immobile for a long time. A hunter was successful by his ability to not be detected by game. Ta had rubbed his body with the sage. He had been careful what he had eaten. He was constantly watching the breeze. His small bag of powders was shaken every so often to gage the direction of the varying errant winds. His mind went to stories of his uncle. The brother of his mother had told of the old days, days when the giants shook the earth. Ta fondled his totem; a piece of ivory which hung about his neck on a rawhide string. His uncle had given it to him when he had become a man. The carved totem had been made several generations ago. Since it was from one of the giants, Ta was told that it had great medicine. His uncle had said that killing one of the giants would feed several clans for a long time. Killing a giant would be a feat, indeed. To do it alone would be almost impossible. Ta was a mighty hunter and he could still dream.
To call the family to a kill of a giant would make him renown through out the world, which for Ta wasn’t that big, others would be invited and the uttered sounds, which called him, would be known to all. There would be a gathering and young men could seek willing women from other clans and if fortune was kind, the women would follow them, bare their children and allow them to establish a family group of their own. A woman alone could attach herself to a family, even if she was not the primary woman of any man, but she would have safety and be cared for. A man was lost if he didn’t have a woman. Men could hunt and men could fight. Men seldom had the skills to tan skins, or the patience to gather seeds. There were other things that women did, also. Without a woman, a man would not have a family, surrounding himself with children who would care for him in his aged years, a family who would pay for the services of the shaman when sickness or bad luck came to him.
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Doctor Elizabeth Parker-Johnson was trying to dig her self out of the dense fog. She knew that reality was somewhere above her but the pain kept her from finding the surface. The nurses of the hospital heard her moan and then they heard her call, “Frank, Franklin, where are you? Don’t look at the light. They will only see you if you look at them.”
The good doctor felt a cooling hand and a damp cloth placed against her face. She could feel the heat of the light. They were here looking for him. He had been gone for over 15 years. They were still looking for him; some how they had found her and thus put Frank in danger. It wasn’t fair to bring Frank into this. She had left Max, 15 years ago to let him better hide. Frank knew nothing about the life she had formerly led. To Frank, she was a well-known anthropologist, with whom he had fallen in love.
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Doctor Parker-Johnson had left the alien abyss so long ago. Frank never knew that Doctor Parker-Johnson had been a fugitive, both from the FBI and from unfriendly forces from out there. Doctor Franklin Johnson had met the young Doctor Parker just after she received her doctorate’s degree in archeology. He was a field researcher in geology. He was working the volcanic mountains north and west of Taos, that tourist/artsy community. There had been an archeology field school on Lobo Peak, a research location for the University of New Mexico. Field schools are usually summer classes where students from freshmen to those holding a doctoral degrees, work and study practical archeology. They jokingly called it “Ditch Digging 101.” There is more to this name than might be imagined. Physical Educations majors would be assigned to this summer class to keep in shape. No mechanized equipment would be used on these field schools, all the dirt would be removed by the strong backs of the students. At least, their backs would be strong by the end of the session.
Many field schools live in primitive conditions like camping out all summer. Not so, the school on Lobo Peak. The University of New Mexico owned a facility at the D. H. Lawrence Ranch where the school would be housed. For archeologist, this was luxury. There were dorms, a cafeteria and the most appreciated luxury, showers. Doctor Frank Johnson was taking advantage of the hospitality offered by the university research group to traveling associates. Doctor Parker had kindly given him a tour about the site they were excavating. “Franklin,” they were on first name basis now, “there are several different theses being tested on this site. The overall site covers several square miles. A separate team is excavating each individual dig site. They bring their artifacts in to headquarters and the individual researchers then go over the team notes to look for evidence that supports their theses. When the summer is over, the evidence will be cataloged and the individuals will prepare their papers to present to the department,” she explained.
This was very different from what Frank Johnson did. Frank mostly worked alone. He would study maps, formations and then, the only sure thing was actually taking samples. Frank would look at these samples and recommend cores be drilled at certain points; then, he would spend the winter studying every thing he had found. The land and its contours grudgingly gave up its secrets. Frank managed, that summer, to stop by the archeology dig several times. He even arranged a few lectures for the students on the geology of the area. Every time he arrived, it was Doctor Parker who entertained him.
An archeology dig has its romantic side. The students work hard during the day. As said, there is very little difference for the most part from just ditch digging. They might use their trowels, tooth brushes and dental picks to carefully remove an artifact, but to get to that artifact someone had to move a lot of dirt. For many of the academic students this is the first time in their young lives they had needed to do this type of labor. It is common for the sweet, beautiful sorority girl to show with pride her first blister that she had ever known. Some of the men become renowned like “John Henry,” the steel driving man with their newly found ability to move huge amounts of soil. The legendary John Henry competed with the steam drill in laying railroad tracks, the modern legends must do what the modern earth moving equipment can’t. That is, move dirt with the finesse to not destroy the artifacts. With this hard manual labor, the students feel they have the right to play hard when their academic chores are finished in the evenings. Celso’s bar, at Arroyo Hondo, meaning deep arroyo, was a traditionally Hispanic bar. Being just a few miles from Lobo Peak, in the southwest this meant less than 25 miles; the college students quickly discovered it. Celso was a wise entrepreneur after the first summer of trying to mingle the college students with his Hispanic regulars; Celso built a separate room for the outsiders. The college students had a separate room to celebrate and when they all left for the summer, Celso had a meeting room for the small community of Arroyo Hondo. It was noted that a few ethnologists would filter into the Hispanic section and with their quiet inquisitions they would be regaled by old Hispanic stories. La Llorona, the cry-baby, would live on in the documents these students carried back. Stories from down south about the monster Chupacabra would be told and sometimes, the students would see changes that appeared, making the monster fit into the neighboring villages.
Doctor Parker and Doctor Johnson were seen to frequent Celso’s bar, the times he visited. The romantic drive back to the peak, along with the opportunities for clandestine stops under the pines, gave the students fodder for thoughts that Doctor Parker was also, playing, as hard as she worked. Long walks along the forest roads, trying to avoid the grottos where they heard giggling or sighing, were romantic. No one was surprised when Doctor Johnson taking Doctor Parker’s hand and with a serape thrown over his shoulder, led her into the moonlight. The students all smiled. Doctor Parker would get laid tonight for sure, if she hadn’t been getting some, all along.
Frank and Liz found many times to be together that winter. Doctor Parker gave several lectures about the habitation sites in the areas discussed in Doctor Johnson’s classes. Doctor Johnson gave many lectures about the geology of the southwestern sites that the anthropologists all held so dear.
The courtship was very open to the college community, so no one was surprised when it was announced that there would be a interdepartmental marriage.
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The nurse ran for the doctor on call. The Lady in room 304 was now awake. The doctor hurried to the side of the lady who had been unconscious for so long. The lady at the switchboard, as per instructions phoned the city police who passed the information on to the state police.
Liz, again, saw the light. She cringed from its source. The light flickered past her face and in the darkness Liz could see shapes. Were these the aliens who had looked for Max so long ago? Liz heard a voice, “Doctor Parker can you hear me?” the voice asked.
It didn’t sound like an alien, but Liz remembered some of the aliens they had faced had been almost indistinguishable from humans. Liz tried to move away from the light, but she was bound to her bed. This brought back memories of when Max had been kidnapped by the FBI. Fear ran through Liz as she must be tied to her bed in preparation to be experimented upon.
There was a soft motherly voice, “Hon, try not to be afraid. You are safe here. The doctor just wants to know how aware you are.”
That voice didn’t sound like FBI and unless Ida Crawford, the mother of congresswoman Vanessa Whitaker, had returned from the dead, Liz couldn’t think of any other aliens who might sound like this. The level of the light was raised and Liz began to make out several people dressed in hospital scrubs standing around her. “Doctor Parker-Johnson, can you hear me?” the voice said again. This time correcting itself about her name.
Liz saw no reason to not cooperate at the moment so she nodded. “Do you know what happened to you?” the voice asked again.
Those crowded around the woman saw her eyes dart about as the level of light kept rising. She looked like a trapped animal. “Where is Frank?” she asked.
The soft voice continued, “Was Frank the name of the person who was with you?”
“Yes,” Liz responded. Then she looked around frightened again, “Where is Frank? He was standing right beside me when we saw the light. Did they get him?”
The soft voice again, “Now, Elizabeth, we will talk more later. Right now, I want to examine you and determine the extent of your injuries.”
Liz was too groggy to argue. They had shown the light into her eyes, which caused her a great deal of discomfort. She could almost hear the aliens talking. Now she could feel the bandages and pain was starting to mount from injuries she was yet unaware that she had. Liz was covered in bandages over her burns.
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Kyle Valente, born in Roswell New Mexico and now a detective in the New Mexico State Police, hurried up to the hospital desk. “Is the burn victim, Doctor Johnson, awake?” he asked.
Kyle had worked his way up with native ability. He was from three generations of police officers. Usually, if something happened in the Rio Puerco valley, just west of the city, it would be drugs. This time, it was rumored that aliens were involved. Kyle wouldn’t brag or talk about it, but he was one of the few cops who didn’t shy away from the word aliens. Mention UFO’s in the presence of Sergeant Lonnie Zamora, retired State policeman, and you started a fight. Lonnie had been razzed so many times by the younger officers and those in Santa Fe that at the mere mention of UFO’s he took personally that you were making fun of him. Lonnie had a chip on his shoulder, which looked like a flying saucer. He just dared anyone to knock it off. http://www.ufocasebook.com/Zamora.html
Lonnie had been patrolling just south of Socorro, New Mexico. He was chasing a speeder when he heard a roar and saw something in the sky. Lonnie knew that there was construction in the area and in this part of the world construction meant explosives. Maybe, one of those storage units had gone up. There also was the possibility that one of the rogue dissident groups had tried for the explosive and blown themselves up. Rito Canales and Antonio Cordova would be killed, by the State Police, a few years later while trying to steal dynamite from a road construction project, in this area. There were many groups in the news during the 60s and 70s. The news of dissent was about California or the schools on the east coast, but in New Mexico, it was almost insurrection. There was talk of secession. Aztlan was a real concept, if not a practical one. http://ca10.washburnlaw.edu/cases/2001/02/00-2164.htm
For Lonnie, it was 1964 and there were many rebellious groups in New Mexico. You name it and they wanted it. Blowing themselves up was not unheard of. Lonnie proceeded up the dirt roads, towards where he believed the flames had originated. When he arrived, he saw in an arroyo some type of vehicle. It was on a platform and there was movement around it. As Lonnie approached, it took off with a roar; not an explosion, but a roar. Lonnie was on duty and cold sober. His fellows kidded him unmercifully.
He knew what he had seen and so did Kyle. Kyle just couldn’t tell Lonnie what it was. As said, it happened in 1964. Kyle hadn’t even been born yet. His parents hadn’t yet met because they were in grade school. From his associations with the aliens of Roswell, Kyle knew that the skins, an alternate alien group, bearing no good will, to those aliens Kyle knew personally, were setting up a colony at that time.
New Mexico State Patrolman Gabe Valdez had many ideas of what caused the cattle mutilations. They ranged from Insurance fraud to possible experimentation. The experimentation could possiblely be our own government or outsiders, and Gabe meant “real far outsiders.” Gabe wasn’t closing any doors. There had always been stories about animals used in strange rites. The influx of the alternate “hippy” cultures worried the locals. Were these newcomers bringing in some bizarre rituals? Along with these scenes of mutilation, there were many sightings of strange air ships. There were tales of silent-black helicopters and strange alien ships. The area in the northern part of the state greatly mistrusted the “Gringo” government even more than the “red-necked, farm workers of the south. There were stories of toxic waste dumps and of strange death rays. Kyle had researched as much as he could, but he just wasn’t sure. Gabe was as closed mouth as was Lonnie, now, when questioned about the affair. http://www.thewatcherfiles.com/dulce/chapter10.htm
Unknown to Lonnie or Gabe, Kyle was one of their staunchest supporters. Whether it was his own government or something related to his alien wife, Kyle followed these stories closely. More than any other officer, Kyle was aware of “Outside Terrorism,” not politically inspired locals, but those from way out there.
Kyle also knew that as late as July 2009 there had been UFO sightings along the Puerco. http://www.ufodigest.com/news/0809/manta-ufos.php Kyle wasn’t sure if the sightings were just normal paranoia of the UFO nuts in the area or if, Indeed, the skins or maybe, a group that neither he nor the Roswell aliens knew anything about, were involved. There was another troubling theory, which if proved true, would greatly impede any investigation. Test pilots used the Rio Puerco area, because of its sparse population, as country to fly over. In the days of the TFX F-111 project, they were testing terrain–following radar. The still semi secret planes would fly as low as 100 feet or about 30 meters above the valley floor. As long as there were no cattle mutilations, the local Hispanic ranchers could care less what was going on in the sky. They did complain about the sonic booms that would appear out of nowhere. For Kyle, if the military was in any way involved, he would face an impenetrable wall.
Now, it had been the local ranchers who saw the light and investigated to find Doctor Johnson and the unidentified corpse. Screw with the skies all you want, but if you effect cattle or people, the ranchers were up in arms. The ranchers called the police because someone was hurt. If they had caught anyone out there doing harm, they would have administered ‘swift country justice,’ and said nothing more about it.
Kyle had been told to attend the hospital and interview this Doctor Johnson who apparently had met something. She was in bad condition. Kyle had shrugged. His sensible mind had told him that Doctor Johnson had in, someway, found herself in the middle of a drug transaction. The narcotics agents had several small outlying airports around Albuquerque, which they called “Mexican Internationals.” There were more nonstop flights from south of the boarder, which landed at those airports than there were at the commercial Albuquerque International Sun Port. New Mexico was so barren that the State Police and the federal narcotics agents couldn’t patrol it very well.
When the attending doctor for Doctor Johnson approached him, Kyle could see that he had a very grim expression on his face. “They called you too early detective. She is coming around, but it will be tomorrow before she can talk coherently. So far, we haven’t gotten any information from her or any knowledge about the person who was with her. It is reported that Doctor Johnson is married to a geologist. Maybe, that is who was with her. We can’t yet even tell the sex of the companion. It was burned almost beyond recognition as a human being. We released the remains to the medical examiners and they will have the DNA and other evidence for you soon, if they can.”
Kyle made a face. He didn’t relish the drive back to Santa Fe tonight. He would get a room and be ready early in the morning to question the good doctor. “Ava,” Kyle said over his cell phone. “Doctor Johnson isn’t awake enough for me to question, so I am going to take a room and see her early in the morning.”
Kyle heard her soft voice. They had been married several years and Kyle never tired of hearing the voice of his alien wife. Kyle remembered when he first saw Ava. She had returned to Roswell after the aliens she was running with were captured. Her hair was in tangles, her lips and ears were pierced in several places and she had a nose ring which was inconvenient as she had a terrible cold. Kyle knew that she was the duplicate of the rogue alien, Tess, who had caused so much trouble. All the Roswell aliens had duplicates. The duplicates had had even less guidance growing up. Ava, for some reason, turned out to be almost as kind as the other aliens she ran with were evil. Kyle had known the aliens of Roswell most of his life and since high school he had know about their out of this world status. The aliens Ava had grown up with, Kyle was sure, had been destroyed.
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When Liz awakened the next morning the first thing that faced her was pain. Her whole body ached. The staff gave her something to deaden the pain. It also slowed her thinking. Maybe, that was a blessing. As the morning wore on, Liz slowly began to have thoughts of Frank.
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After Liz became Doctor Parker-Johnson, she found that anthropology and geology had lots in common. Frank would spend much of his leisure time exploring geological sites and Liz soon found that she could do a lot of archeological field surveying while accompanying him. Finding archeology sites in the southwest is not difficult. The difficulty was in exactly locating their center, researching the archives at the University, and seeing if the sites had been mentioned by previous archeologists. Then, she spent time trying to learn something about the people who had lived there. This had to all be done without excavation. Excavation could only be undertaken after extensive research and a presentation that the excavators could learn enough to make the destruction of a site worthwhile. Many sites were set-aside for investigators, years from now when techniques would be better refined, to study them.
Frank Johnson, PhD enjoyed his wife accompanying him. She had almost as much interest in the land as did he. Frank would study the geology of the area and Liz would seek out and catalog habitation sites.
Liz was remembering their latest venture into the Rio Puerco valley. The Rio Puerco, (puerco meaning muddy or dirty, piggy would be the slang phrase,) was in the middle of New Mexico. It started as a inconsistent river, somewhere in the mountains north of Cuba, New Mexico. It traveled several miles west of Albuquerque and finally entered the Rio Grande to the south of the city near a town called San Acacia. Acacia was the name of a type of tree and had been adopted by the Spanish as a common name. The area was rich in semi-precious gem stone and almost every hill had some sort of indication of habitation. Mostly the Rio Puerco was now, seen as a very wide, dry arroyo. Frank had told Liz that this was the second biggest tributary of the Rio Grande in New Mexico. It only contributed about 4% of the water to the Rio Grande, but it contributed over 78% of the sediment. The river still flowed, but most of the flow was under ground. When the Spanish first saw it, they saw an oasis of cottonwoods. The arroyo as it appeared now, followed a fault line. There were ancient volcanoes scattered all along it length. The water, whether above ground or below, allowed cultivation up into historical times. If the ancient people had all been there at the same time, they would have made up a metropolis. As it was, the different habitation sites were separated in time by many years. Frank had driven north from Interstate 40 along ranch roads. There had been considerable Uranium mining years ago, so many of the roads were left from that effort. The area had volcanic flows of basalt here and there. They finally camped on a small flat, or playa, formed by an ancient lake. The Johnsons had been there for almost a week. Liz had filled several notebooks and Frank had probably almost a ton of labeled samples. Some, he would take back to his laboratory and others, the gem quality ones, he would sell to several local rock shops. It was good that he had a one ton, four wheel drive Ford pickup. Its duel rear wheels would be put to use carrying out his samples.
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Ta held his collection of spears or darts. They were tipped with basalt chips. Ta had carefully crafted them the way his uncle had taught him. There was one dart which Ta had traded for. It was from the land where the sun lived and was reborn every morning. It was of a lighter color than the basalt ones he had made. His uncle had told him to save it for the one time when he needed great medicine. The basalt tips would usually break if they hit rocks or hard ground. Ta could replace them. The medicine tip with its flutes on each side had been bound to a straight shaft of willow. It was guided by feathers of the great eagle. (Description of a Folsom point. These were found by people for many generations and reused. The skill to make them no longer existed.) His uncle told Ta, that he would know when he needed to use it.
http://www.google.com/images?client=saf ... 0&bih=1024
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Folsom_point
Ta held his thrower. It was an extension of his arm. With the spear thrower, or atlatl, Ta could hurl his spears a great distance. The atlatl was not a weapon of offense or defense. It was a weapon of hunting. A man watching a spear cast high in the air could easily get out of its way. An animal, grazing casting its gaze about itself would not see the spear as it came out of the sky. Gravity would give the spear a great deal of energy. Ta’s uncle had told of times when many men would cast their spears into one of the giants. The reward for killing one of the giants was great. Many families would feast and gather for a long time. The man who helped kill one would be reveled for some time. (At least until the meat was consumed.)
http://www.google.com/images?client=saf ... 0&bih=1024
It was as the sun departed to the west, the direction of death and non returning, that animals would come out. The climate had been warming for many years. Ta’s uncle had told tales of a time when the winter snows were so high that the people had difficulties in hunting. Tonight, Ta sat patiently waiting. He had seen a small herd of prong horns. They were not a difficult game to catch. It just took guile. If they came near Ta would do something stupid or unexpected. The prong horns were very fast, but they were very curious. Ta had taken them by lying on the ground kicking his legs in the air. That was their big fault and in this case curiosity surely killed the prong horn. (I have a video of a friend taking an antelope by walking towards it and yelling obscenities. The obscenities were for effect for those watching and running the camera. I am sure that the antelope did not know what was being said. My friend shot the creature at very close range. This was more interesting by the fact that they had recorded several careful stalks, which all failed as the antelope saw them and ran away.)
Suddenly Ta heard a noise. It wasn’t a noise he had ever heard before. Ta wasn’t afraid as he, again, touched his totem. Ta was a hunter and he would face any danger. The thing, Ta had never seen the like, sped across the sky and turned to land in the valley below. Ta was angry. He was sure, that now, none of the prong horns or any other game would come near, for many hours.
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Suddenly, Liz started to shake. That was when she remembered the sound and saw the lights. Liz never knew what Frank thought. She was knocked unconscious. The last thoughts Liz remembered were of someone speaking and the bright lights. Then, there was a vision of a bright ray and a terrible noise, like a roaring of a hundred motorcycles. That is all Liz could remember.
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Kyle knocked lightly on the opened door. “Doctor Johnson,” he began. When Liz turned toward him, Kyle recognized her even though she was covered in bandages and her body was badly bruised and burned. “Liz, babe, what are you doing here?”
To Liz, seeing Kyle, was like falling into the arms of a friend, after finally emerging from a haunted house. Kyle walked over to her bed and gently hugged her. Liz winced in pain and Kyle was immediately apologetic. “Liz, I am so sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be, Kyle you have no idea what it means to see an old friend. I feel so frightened and alone. What have you been doing with yourself?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, working for the man, except now the man is the state police in Santa Fe.” Kyle was always apologetic when it came to what he did for a living. He once had grandiose plans when he started high school. Playing pro football seemed at the time the way he was going. After he met the aliens, Kyle seemed to be lost. His beliefs were shaken and dreams seemed to suddenly be beyond his grasp. “They sent me to review your case. What do you remember about what happened?” Kyle asked.
Liz shook her head. For an instant, her memory failed her. Then, she remembered Frank. “Kyle, what happened to Frank?” she cried.
“Frank, Liz, who is Frank?” he returned.
“Frank is my husband. We were married several years ago. Max made it clear that us being together was too dangerous. I, finally, decided to go on with my life. Doctor Frank Johnson is a geologist. We had many things in common. We have been married for several good years. Do you know what happened to him?” she asked again. The tone of Liz’s inquiry said loads about her fears. She almost started talking about her companion in the past. The look on Kyle’s face told Liz all. There was something terrible that he knew.
Kyle’s discomfort was saved when doctor Sanchez entered the room. One look at Liz and another at Kyle, Doctor Sanchez knew that they must be talking about the companion of Doctor Parker-Johnson. He spoke up, “Doctor Johnson who was the person with you?”
Liz trembled, “Frank Johnson, my husband. What happened to him?”
“Who ever was with you was killed by what caused all your injuries. I am truly sorry, but the policeman is correct we need to know what happened to you,” Doctor Sanchez continued.
I don’t remember,” Liz said as her mind began to close down again. “I remember the light, high in the sky and I heard voices. I remember shooting or fire-crackers like on the Fourth of July. Then, I remember nothing else,” she murmured.
Doctor Sanchez frowned at Kyle and he took the hint. “Liz, I will see you later. Tell the doctors if you remember anything else.” With that, Kyle left Liz as she peacefully went back to sleep, a nurse having slipped an injection into the tubes leading to her arm.
Kyle went to the local state police office and placed a call. “Hey, Mike, Kyle Valenti here, have you seen Max recently?” he asked.