"Whatever," she looked away. "He left you," Leah muttered low. After word got out about Brian Weber's indiscretions, Landen had enough of Tracy. Mom was never easy to get along with.

"He hasn't called you," she smirked, "or even tried to contact you."

"Whatever," she repeated. How would I know? You still have my phone and laptop, she thought with a curse. I have no escape from you.

"A real man never abandons his family," she said, but waved over a waitress, who sighed at the sight of Tracy. She ordered for both of them.

Leah dug short nails into her ribs, so to keep them from slapping her mother. She watched her for a moment, and then leaned forward. "I heard things from the other kids at school," she smiled, though felt her stomach turn. "They're talking about the factory," she ventured, and her mother jerked.

"People talk, Honey," she looked away, but eyes slid back to her. "What have they been saying?"

"A lot," she looked away, bitter taste now soured in her guts. "The factory will stay closed. There were women, who were…abused." Leah blushed, for some had used much harsher words.

Tracy reddened, but all the color drained. Former employers of Leitch Industrial Company were throughout the family bar. "What other women do for favors," she held her chin up, "it is none of your concern!"

Leah studied her, but the world wavered through tears, "They say you helped to cover it up, and the Chaney people will always be traitors." She looked at the table. The only one who has it worse than me is Gage Weber, she thought.

She let out a breath, "They don't know anything." Her color returned, as she searched for the waitress.

"Is it true?" she asked, but her mother focused on the waitress that avoided their table.

Their food arrived, though it was only warm. Leah saw more patrons stare over at their table. Tracy assaulted her plate, but she used her mother's distraction to listen to Iggy. Leah picked at her food.

The gaze of the patrons shifted, as the door opened. Any here with their family called for a waitress, so they could pay. Others seeing people leave decided real fast to stay or go. Most recalled somewhere else they needed to be, Leah mused with a hiss. The less some know, the more they could hold onto delusions of innocence. Adults are just High School kids with jobs and mortgages.

Barnett glided through the bar, graceful and silent, despite his size. Any remaining Blues, descendants of the Union soldiers, averted their eyes, when the Van Lear tough guy passed. Savageness waited under the calm. Eyes under the trilby hat were cast in shadow, no matter the light. The Grays smirked in satisfaction. If he saw anyone but Tracy, there was no sign. When his hat momentarily tilted towards the Guitarist, his step faltered, though so slightly, only Leah had seen it. He brushed down his tie, and sat before them.

"Hello Miss Chaney," he growled, stumpy teeth flashed like bleached tombstones.

"Nice to see you, Barnett!" she fawned. "My, it is such a lovely day! How is Alice?"

"I don't care for obsequious flattery," he said, tone flat. "I'm here to speak to you at my lady's behest." Barnett's hat tilted towards Leah, "I can also assure you that your daughter's presence makes no difference." His lips curled but relaxed.

She blinked, "I was only—"

Barnett held up a hand, knuckles scarred, nails manicured. "Miss Van Lear is very curious, Madam," he said, tone again flat and expressionless. "Ingratiating yourself with civility is wasting my time," he straightened his tie. "Now, there is a very strange set of circumstances surrounding certain individuals."

"I'll tell you whatever you want," she swallowed.

"I want the truth," Barnett said evenly, "and you absolutely will tell me."

"Okay, okay," Tracy smiled, sweat beaded on her brow.

"Your daughter here," he gestured at Leah, "will stay and listen, for Miss Van Lear insists." He looked at her under the trilby hat, "it is important that she listen, so never to make the same mistakes as you or your forbearers."

"Yes Sir," Leah blushed, "I'm not my mother." She had heard about Barnett, but only ever seen him in passing. He looks like a barbarian in a nice suit, she thought, but felt skin pebble.

"Obviously," he turned back to Tracy. "Now, Madam, we come to the conundrum at hand. Christopher Peck, Sheila Richardson, and Brian Weber have disappeared." Barnett waved off the waitress, who scurried away, but left a glass of water with lemon. "No one, it seems, has seen them. Misses Peck has left with our blessing. Miss Richardson's car is still at the Black Priory, and the Weber children are a dead end." He looked at his hands. Whatever they seen, he thought, it was bad enough to traumatize them. They recalled nothing but a bruised purple light. With some of the equipment there, it was probably a chemical fire.

"What about Haas," she squeezed her hands together, "he hauled off Chris's vehicle! He also towed Sheila's car, and HE was the one, who found the kids…Gage and Moxie!"

"We already checked his stories, and they checked out," he sipped the glass of water. "Haas has done nothing," he shrugged, "and if he has, I'll eventually find out. You, on the other hand Madam, have done much."

"I was the one," she pointed to herself, "who came to you about the fraud." Leah saw other patrons tilted their heads to listen.

"Only after the abuse of the women came to the light," he corrected. "We were sure to find the fraud, once Alice checked the books."

Tracy looked at Leah, Barnett, and then to the door. "What do you want?" she said, licked her lips.

"Where is Christopher Peck" he tapped his fingers.

"I don't know."

"Where is Sheila Richardson?"

"I don't know."

"Where is Brian Weber?"

She looked between Leah and Barnett, "I don't—"