Monday, August 29 16:35+

Trooper Amelia Jean Foster stands outside of the squadcar on what remains of a private bridge. The concrete-and-steel structure is missing a sizeable chunk of its middle, making it impossible for cars to cross. In fact, the squadcar is sitting a good 50 yards back from the bridge just to be certain that any other rigged explosions won't destroy it like it did the bridge.

Trooper Malcom Conrad Steward stands with her, surveying the damage. He looks down over the edge into the chasm below and gives a whistle. "I'll call it in," he volunteers.

"Knock yourself out," Foster says with a wave of her hand. She studdies the swisted steel and the rough edges of the concrete. "What do you think was used to blow this?"

"Da**ed if I know," Steward answers, his voice echoing a bit as he makes his way back to the squadcar. "Da**ed if I know why either."
But in the back of his head, he does know why. "This case just got complicated...."++

As he reaches for the radio, it crackles to life. "Steward, are you there?" asks the voice on the other end. Stew knows it to be that of Edward James Matta, a Trooper a few years from retirement.

"Yes," he responds into it, "I am. It may have taken all day, but Foster and I think we may have found the right road...."

"Stew, the FBI just called here," Matta inturrupts, not really hearing what Steward seemed to say. "They need your location... they've disbatched two Federal Agents to take over your investigation."

Blinking, Steward shakes his head. "Eddie, this doesn't concern them --"

"I need your location, Stew, that's all," repeats Matta.

Naming the intersection of the private drive he and Foster were now at, Steward shakes his head again. "Eddie, we may not have found anything... but somebody blew this guy's bridge out."

From the other end of the radio, there is static and confusion. "No, wait -- Sir... Ma'am!"

"Eddie?"

"These... people just barged in... and they heard your location," responds the old Trooper. "They said they were looking for those kids."

Steward's eyes widen. "Where are they now?" he demands.

There is a pause. "I think they're on their way, Stew --they left pretty fast. There's a whole caravan of 'em."

"Sh**," curses Steward, but not to Matta.

Foster turns to see Steward stomp and pace about. "What's wrong, Stewie?" she asks loudly, cupping her hands to her mouth.

Steward can only shake his head. "This case just got VERY complicated."


oog: Feel free to arrive, private citizens (Kiroth, you must wait a bit). You can pull right up to the bridge, the squadcar isn't blocking the whole road. Sorry that it's technically Tuesday here... but here it is -- CiRCLES II in all its glory!

+ Military Time (16:35 = 4:35pm) As an additional note, this is EST as Pennsylvania falls into that particular time zone.
++ Any statement which is completely italicized and in quotes will be considered a THOUGHT. Nobody here has a secret superpower of reading minds, so thoughts will not be responded to.

Driving towards the bridge, Simon Westman watches the trees flash by through the driver's seat window. Leaning back, he sighs.

It's been way too long, he thinks to himself. Way too long since...since...well, since I've been here, for one.

Had it really only been four years? It felt like a lifetime ago since he left Pennsylvania to go to college on the West Coast. Definite change of scenery there. For one, there weren't so many forests, and a hell of a lot more cars. It was so easy to lose touch with nature there.

I guess I miss it more than I thought it would, he thinks broodingly. Hell, I hardly recognize the place anymore.

And Justin...oy, Justin. It seemed that back in the day, all Simon would ever do was to bail him out of some sort of trouble. Which wasn't entirely fair, he knew, but he was in a dejected and mopey sort of mood, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let anything spoil it.

He had heard the news when he had got home just recently, after finishing up a summer internship. Justin hadn't come back from his hiking trip. Three days had gone by with no word. Naturally, someone had to do something about it. And it had fallen to him.

Simon sighs again. God, listen to me, he thought irritatedly. I'm sounding like an ass. Of course I had to go find him. He's my brother.

Of course Simon had to go find Justin. They were brothers, after all.

There we go. Wait, that just spoiled my dejected/mopey mood, didn't it?

By this time, Simon had reached the bridge. He pulls up to the side, then gets out of the car, looking around.

"Holy sh**," he says, out loud. "What the hell happened here?"

17:03

Steward, leaning against the hood of the squadcar, watches as Simon passes by. He flags at the car irritatedly, though Simon can't hear what he's saying. Jogging, Steward catches up with Simon once he stops.

"Sorry sir, but you're going to have to turn around. The bridge is out. Is this your driveway?"

Foster, just finishing with a roll of yellow police-line ribbon stands by the front of the bridge with the leftover tape, one hand on her hip.


oog: Just a reminder, this IS a private drive that the bridge is located on.

Leaving the sherrif's office, James looks at the picture of Karolyn once again.

Hmm,pretty girl, hope nothings happened to her

Getting on his Vintage Custom Fatboy that an friend had built for him,(ooc:cant get one in real life,might as well ride one in game), James roars of with sound of 1800cc's of overbored American street metal towards the bridge the deputies are at.

Hmmn, I wonder if i can figure out what made that hole, I sure learned alot when I was in the army, but damned if i can remember anything right now, the only thing i can think of that would make such [i] a hole is a shaped charge of C4, which leaves an easily recognizable burn pattern

Arriving at the cruiser, James dismounts, and approaches the deputies.

"Hello, sorry to bust in on your investigation, but Karolyn's father has asked me to look for her, and I owe him way to much to say no for such an easy thing. I will try to stay out of your way, but I will be part of your investigation.

Is there any reason that I cannot take a look at this hole you were telling the sheriff about, or will my looking at it damage your investigation in any way.I have some experience with explosives from the service and may be able to assist in identifying what caused it"

hmmm, strange being on this side of the investigation for once

Since Steward is already speaking with Simon, Foster steps up to speak with James.

"Sir, please step aside. I don't know a Karolyn. I'm sure you've very concerned about her, but I assure you, the Pennsylvania State Police can handle this matter." Her expression and tone are firm, but not without emotion. She stands between James and the taped-off area.
"Someone blew this bridge out, that's all, Sir."

The tires of the Land Rover screeched and clawed at the dirt before they found purchase and propelled the vehicle back onto the tarmac. The woman behind the wheel bit down on an expletive and then consciously eased off on the gas.

Calm down, girl! You won't help Tom by getting yourself into an accident before you even arrive at the scene. Some doctor you are. Where's your professional detachment?

Usually, the acid commentary of Kris's own worst critic would force her into doctor mode, no matter what was going on around her. It might have been sufficient this time, even though her brother was missing, except for one thing. She had clearly heard over the State Trooper's radio that the damaged bridge had been vandalized, with explosives. That made whatever happened human agency, not an accident. And that scared the hell out of her.

The turn-off was almost hidden amongst the trees to the right. Kris stomped on the brakes in a knee-jerk reaction, and then took control again, pumping them as she swung the wheel. The back end of the Rover fishtailed a little, and then equalized as it was urged down the new road.

Kris had to laugh just a little. She knew several of the others looking for the lost party had been trying to follow her, since she had a passing familiarity with the area. And here she was driving like it was a car chase. Well, if they made the turn, they should catch up quick enough, because there was no going fast on this road. Technically, it was paved but it had suffered with the passing of the seasons. The edges were crumbling away and there were splits and sinkholes all along it.

After what must have been fifteen or twenty minutes of this pace, the road widened out at the rest area Kris had thought was there. The State Police car was parked just past it, taking up the center of the road, and some kind of classic motorcycle sat side by side with a sedan in the rest stop area. Both drivers were out of their vehicles, arguing with the troopers.

Kris pulled her Rover to a halt as near to the squad car as she could without crowding into their space. She wanted to establish that her presence there was at least quasi-official. She yanked the parking brake on and let off the clutch, killing the engine, then jumped out. A quick look at the troopers reassured her slightly.

What's her name? Foster? Yeah, that's right. I worked with her on that body discovered last year just off a hiking trail. Turned out to be a simple hiking injury, death of exposure. Right.

She broke in on the current conversation without compunction.

"Excuse me, Officer Foster. I'm Dr. Courbette. I think you remember me, I work with the Laurel Mountain Ranger Station." Kris held out her hand and spoke briskly. "I'm here to offer my assistance in case any of the missing people turn up injured. In fact, I want to join the search party."

Chads 1949 sidecar motorcycle putters up to the bridge. Seeing all the people Chad simply turns off the engine, steps of the off the bike and folds hi arms. I don't understand these other people, bothering the cops won't make a difference. I wish they would just be quiet and maybe the cops would help He then leans over to the sidecar to check if everything is there. Once assured he resumes his folded arm position and calmly waits for something to happen.

Adriana Sinclair, drives her Jeep down to the to the bridge with her cousin Jason in the shotgun seat, with her Grandmother Elaine Wlaker and her pet dog Duke in the back. Adriana keeps turning thoughts about Laurie in her mind.

Crap Laurie why did you have to go hiking? Couldn't you just be happy staying home with your family? Now you've got me and half the family out looking for you. Aw hell, I'm your twin I should find you. You would do the same for me if I got lost.

She parks the Jeep, and just surveys the destruction of the bridge opened mouthed. She thinks,
Gods, who would want to do this? Hell who would be able to do this?

OOG: I just thought it would be easier if all of the Sinclairs came together. [/i]

Following all of the other cars is a very old, rickety, mangled, "you can hardly believe it is still going" truck. It looks like it is held together but duct tape and sheer luck. It must have more to it than it seems though - it managed to pull through all of the drive. Through the muddy windshield Ray was just able to make out when it was time to stop, jerking to a halt behind the Sinclairs. With an oath he opens the door to the truck, which makes a rather alarming creaking noise. He jumps out. The sun gleams off of his bald head - he has just a small bit of hair on the sides and that's it. He's wearing some wraparound shades, so you can't really see the look in his eyes. However, he's obviously frowning as he looks toward the bridge. Having been in the army, he knows explosives when he sees them. And that must have been one big bang.

He looks toward the two somewhat harried looking officers and shakes his head. "Well.. I guess we're not going over that bridge any time soon."

"No," Simon was saying, "this is not my driveway, but I heard down at the office that something happened here, that this was the last known location of this group of hikers..."

Continuing to talk to Steward, Simon thinks. Heh. That's something else different about this place. Nice officers. Or at least courteous ones.

The approach of several vehicles makes him turn his head, and he sees the same group of people he just saw a while ago at the sheriff's office. "Hmm. Seems like I'm not the only one, then."

Jason sits in the passenger seat of Adriana's Jeep, bespectacled head resting against the roll bar, enjoying the steady dutdutdutdutdutdutdutdutdut of the vibrations from the road against his cranium in a kind of bored masochism.

This is so stupid... why do I have to come along. Jason grumbles inwardly. I'm missing all my Monday afternoon SciFi shows.

As the jeep grinds to a halt in front of the bridge, and Adriana gets out, Jason's expression quickly changes. "Woah" he says, sitting up in his seat.

Jason jumps out of the passenger side of the Jeep, his gut bouncing slightly beneath his buttoned down flannel, and he slowly approaches the line of police tape.

After he has made his own initial assessment of the site, he turns to Stew and, without bothering to make an introduction, asks loudly "What kind of explosives did this? Was it C4?"

Elaine rolls her eyes at her grumpy grandchildren. She slips Duke's eash over her wrist, and the two ease out of the car. "All right, kids. Let's not get excited until the authorities tell us what's going on."
Not that I blame them. Listen to me, telling those kids to respect The Man.

---

Duke strains at his leash until Elaine walks him over to a tree. After peeing, he sniffs around.

Oh wow. Lots of Squirrels. And people. And... ew. Bad smells. Fire smells.

Duke whines, his ears perked up.

Hearing someone else come up with the same idea he did, James turns to try and find him, reasoning that even tho they probably come from totally different social spectrums, at least their minds seem to be working along the same paths.

OOC: if I can see who said it I will walk up and introduce myself, because from the sound of the chaos of arrivals I'm not sure I would be able to actually figure out who said it just aurally.

Turning towards the voice that mentioned C-4, James looks around, trying to spot the speaker.

"Yah, that's what I thought, although I'd have to get closer to be more certain. Unfortunately I'm not being allowed to verify, and I reeally dont want to annoy local law enforcement"

At least any more than I usually do,heh. Bah these are just drones like in the army, they wont make a decision without consulting their superiors and their superiors superiors.

Noticing the dog someone brought, James will then saunter over to the dogs owner and introduce himself.

Steward makes a mental note that Simon doesn't own the drive, but shakes his head and grumbles as the other vehicles file in. He listens to conversation snippits, but cannot answer everyone's questions at once.

Foster does indeed remember Dr. Courbette. "Yes, Doctor, I remember you, and I appreciate your offer, but there is no search party. We're not sure of anything right now. Perhaps we could call you at a later time once a search party IS assembled... but for all we know, those hikers took a different road...."

Steward stands at the center of the road , between the tape and the concerned citizens. His tone is annoyed. "May I have your attention? YO! Thank you," he says, though not sounding it. He plants his feet firmly.
Steward isn't a large man, at least no more so than average. His voice commands attention, however, as does his authoritative presence.

Even Foster turns her head to look at Steward.

"Due to a leak in our communications," he begins, "some of you... if not all of you... are here about the missing hikers my partner and I are also trying to find. Regretfully, you have all come to the wrong place. There is currently no evidence that the bus they were on even went this way. The Pennsylvania State Police will personally inform each of you if we find anything. Trooper Foster and I will personally take down your contact information."

Foster makes her way back to the squadcar with the roll of yellow tape to get a notepad and pen.

"My name is Trooper Steward. Some of you I have talked with. I assure you, we're working on the situation," the uniformed man concludes. He looks to each person present. "Please let us do our jobs."

Elaine steps forward. "Trooper Steward, is there anything at all we can do? I'm not about to just sit down and wait for my granddaughter to be dredged out of the river or something." She realizes her grandchildren might have overheard, and owers her voice. "Look, I'll dig ditches, make sandwhiches, whatever. Just give me something to do."

---

Once James reaches Duke, the dog sniffs his hand, then his butt, then the air.