Bug Out! Part 12: RV Alliance by Robert Boren Page A

the house. History. Terror from the 1930s and 40s sitting in that house, as untouched as the treasure trove they found at the RV Park. Torso Killer. Black Dahlia. Malcolm’s excitement was mixed with worry. Ted wanted to sit on the location. So did he, at first, but now he wasn’t so sure.
There’s a missing FBI agent.
Yeah, this particular individual was an idiot and also corrupt, but they’d be on dangerous ground if they didn’t come clean.
Talk to Ted again.
    When Malcolm got back to the trailer, the door was open, and the men were getting ready to leave. Ted walked towards Malcolm.
    “Everybody got up in a hurry, I see,” Malcolm said.
    “Yeah. We’re going to the restaurant for some breakfast.”
    “Sounds good,” Malcolm said. “Can we talk for a moment?”
    “What about?”
    “The FBI and this house,” Malcolm said.
    “You’re still worried about that, huh?”
    “Yeah. We need to tell them. Before we get there. I don’t understand why you don’t want to.”
    Ted hesitated for a moment.
    “C’mon, Ted, spill. What’s going on?”
    “They cut me off,” Ted said. “They’re withholding information. If we tell them about the house, they’ll just say thanks and order us to stay away.”
    “Why’d they cut you off?” Malcolm asked.
    “There are some agents who believe the bullshit that Agent Keith’s been shoveling. They look at us as suspects in the disappearance. They’re investigating Sheriff Branson too.”
    Malcolm was silent for a few minutes. “There isn’t anybody you can trust anymore? How about Agent Cooper?”
    “His career took a big hit after that business in Anza,” Ted said. “We’re still friends, but he quit talking to me about bureau stuff several years ago.”
    “Let’s call him about this,” Malcolm said.
    Ted sighed. “Okay, but it will probably lock us out.” He pulled out his cellphone and hit Agent Cooper’s contact.
    “Agent Cooper.”
    “Hi, Joe. It’s Ted.”
    “Where are you?” he asked in a hushed voice.
    “You at work?” Ted asked.
    “Yeah,” he said. “Tell me you don’t know anything about Agent Keith.”
    “I don’t, Joe. Really. I’ve got information to share, but the bureau’s cut me off. I need to get it to somebody.”
    “What information?”
    “Malcolm figured out where Scott’s house is,” Ted said. “It’s in Columbus.”
    “How does he know?”
    “He put two and two together, after lots of research. The house belonged to a person named Rupert Smith. It was sold at the right time for Scott to have bought it, and the activity nearby suggests that it’s been his home base.”
    “Rupert Smith. Why does that name sound familiar?”
    “He was a suspect in the Torso Murders and the Black Dahlia murder.”
    “Oh, shit,” Agent Cooper said. “So what do you want from me?”
    “We’re on our way to the house. I want to share the address with the bureau, but I don’t want to get locked out.”
    “If you go in there and kill somebody, they’ll lock you up, Ted.”
    “Nobody’s there,” Ted said. “At least nobody alive.”
    “How do you guys know that?”
    “C’mon, Joe, you know where Scott is. They got prints at the house where that reserve cop was shot.”
    “That’s thin,” Joe said. “I can’t say any more about that.”
    “Those dopes aren’t thinking that the fingerprints belong to somebody other than Scott or Howard, I hope.”
    “I can’t say anything else. They’re watching me as it is.”
    Ted sighed. “Okay, I’m going to give you the address to the house. Could you at least pass it up the chain and make sure they know where the info came from?”
    “Yeah, okay,” he said. “If I were you guys I’d stay away from there, though.”
    “We’ll see,” Ted said. “Got a pencil and paper?”
    “Yeah, shoot.”
    Ted gave him the address, said goodbye, and ended the call.
    “That sounded like a tense conversation,” Malcolm said.
    “They really do think we have something to do with