The drive to the Imerson's took only a few minutes, but Rob felt as though he'd crossed into an entirely different community. The houses were older, smaller, and from a first glance cheaper. Those plots on the northmost edge were almost enveloped by the surrounding forest itself, hills so steep the foundations were carved into the slope. He supposed this was where the old blood lived, before Drodenberry became a soldier town.
He arrived at a homely two-storey house that brought to mind a European chalet, with a steep roof and criss-crossing wooden beams all along the front. Cranking the parking brake he shut off the engine and stepped out onto the sloping driveway. A rare grin spread across his face as he took a moment to scan his surroundings. Most of the town was laid out behind him, a yellow glow reflected off metal roofs in the late spring haze. "What a strange place for a mystery," he muttered, before heading to the door.
Rob was met by a short woman with a black, short-cut bob wearing a sapphire-blue polo shirt and matching knee-length pleated skirt. He blinked; but for her height she looked the spitting image of Betty Rubble. "Mrs. Imerson? Rob Tin, private investigator. Justine Parker may have told you I was coming."
"Yes, I was expecting you. Please, come in!" He dutifully stepped inside, eyebrows rising as his eyes adjusted to the indoor light. The house was just as rustic on the inside, the hallway narrow but tall, the walls a dark, somewhat uneven wood paneling from floor to ceiling. Mrs. Imerson led him into a cozy living room adorned with what he assumed were photos of extended family. It was simply-furnished, a large box television and accessories tucked into the far corner near a wood-burning fireplace. He took a seat in one of two sturdily-built wooden dining chairs flanking a table by the window as his host sat down in a broad loveseat on the opposite side.
"So," he began, opening his briefcase, "Mrs. Parker tells me that your and her son have both disappeared?"
"Yeah, Brett just vanished five days ago. He's pretty outgoing so we didn't think much of it, but then Justine calls and says Alex is missing too." She began talking with her hands in what Rob registered as a nervous tic, though her tone remained level. "The two are best friends, so I start thinking, 'Oh God, something's happened to them both!'"
"You think they disappeared around the same time?"
She nodded. "I don't know when exactly—they might've bunked at a friend's place overnight, but Brett definitely didn't show up the next day, and when we got a call from the school..." She sighed, looking to him.
"And the police haven't helped?"
"It's as if it's our fault we can't find them," she scowled. "We said it had been twenty-four hours, they said they'd get right on it. We went back the next day, they claimed they hadn't received a report. We've gone in every single day and all we ever get are excuses. Then we learn other families have been filing complaints for weeks! Weeks!" She pounded the cushion beside her. "We're in the midst of a crisis here, and the police are acting as if there's nothing wrong! Everyone in that station oughta be arrested for incompetence!"
Eyeing Mrs. Imerson cautiously, Rob jotted down a note, clearing his throat as he debated the best approach. "Tell me about your son," he began, withdrawing the photo of the two boys and passing it to her; "Mrs. Parker says Brett and Alex are practically inseparable."
"Yeah," she grinned ruefully, passing it back. "They're always meeting up, at least once a week, sometimes more. Sometimes we joke they're really brothers and we're just their foster parents."
"That close, huh?"
"You'd better believe it." Her face fell. "Of course, what with what happened to Alex's father, it's easy to see why."
"Mrs. Parker explained," he nodded. "I gather your two families are fairly close these days?"
"Pretty close, yeah. We knew each other casually through the boys, of course, but to be honest it was only after..." she left it unsaid, looking away before continuing, "That we really came together, as it were. Brett was Alex's closest friend, so through that, we got involved helping Justine through the aftermath... Neither of us really knew Michael when he was alive," she confessed, a wistful look in her eyes.
Rob nodded slowly, giving some time before he returned to the topic at hand. "It's entirely possible Brett and Alex's disappearance isn't related to these other incidents—and if it is," he quickly added, "I'll do my best to root out the culprit. What's Brett like, personality-wise? Judging from the photo I imagine he's on a varsity team?"
"He played football to eleventh grade, still does track and field. He and Alex sometimes end up competing," she smirked.
"Good athlete?"
"He's won a few ribbons."
"First pick of the cheerleaders?" he joked.
She snorted. "Brett hasn't had a girlfriend since middle school, and kiddie-crushes probably don't count anyway. No," she sighed, "These past few years he's kept to himself. He still meets up with his friends, for sure, but not as much as he used to. Other than Alex, of course."
There was one possibility presenting itself, assuming neither of the teens was tied up in gangs or drugs—though come to think of it he hadn't broached that topic with Mrs. Parker. Rob's tongue slid back and forth inside his mouth as he grappled with the most diplomatic way of phrasing the question. "Mrs. Imerson," he began slowly, "Do you think—"
At that moment he was interrupted by an arrival at the front door. They both turned to find...