Max had been inspecting one of the corn shucks as he listened to James go from freaking out to playing detective. Being smart enough to know James was the brighter of the two Max made sure to pay close attention. Max himself took note that none of the corn remnants had bite marks or scratches, as if whatever had done this had indeed cleanly pealed their food as opposed to eating it like an animal. Max was about to inform James of this realization when something truly scary actually happened as his best friend's breathe audibly began to quicken only to be followed by the familiar wheezing sound Max immediately recognized as serious. 

	Luckily, as was the usual case, the episode was short and James had been able to stop his inner monster with a quick pull from his trusty inhaler. Nonetheless Max could tell his friend was shaken up and suddenly Max couldn't help but feel bad for bringing James into such an old and dusty place-he knew that was bad for his condition. Doing his best to take James attention off of what had just happened Max spoke up, an uneasy grin on his face as he looked at James somewhat worriedly. 

	“You ok bud? You sound better, thanks to Darth Vader there.” He nodded to the black inhaler James clung to for life. Long ago he'd given it the nickname after seeing one of their favorite movies. “How about we go ahead and just...check out the kitchen for a couple minutes? That should be good enough for everybody outside...I mean, its not like there is even a time limit or anything, right?” Max found himself asking, clearly trying to self rationalize. He was wanting to leave for the sake of James...that and the place was actually kind of creepy. 

	Regardless of the stressful moment that had just passed Max found himself still feeling curious about who or what was behind the kitchen pantry door, suddenly before he knew it his feet were following the set of footprints across the creaking dust covered floor and into the ramshackle remnants of a kitchen.

	The whole time he had no idea he was being watched from above by Abigail-just like Abigail didn't know about the set of eyes watching her from behind.

--

	The throaty, drawn out, loud and annoying laughter Brooks heard more often than he probably cared too crackled over the Deputies radio. It was immediately recognizable as the man that was somehow technically his superior, Sheriff Ted Carter. Locals just called him Carter. Despite the fact that both men were inside the same extremely small building that consisted of little more than a single jail cell, a front desk, and a tiny back office Carter had deemed it necessary to use his radio. To be fair just one look at the large portly white mustachioed sheriff and one could safely assume why he tried to leave his office as little as possible.

	“How's da witch hunt for em animals goin, boy?” His speech was broken by a loud hacking spit you could almost hear splash in his seemingly ever present spit cup. “Jus got me a call from Mr. Owens claimin some fool was out making a mess of his Corn fields earlier today. Thought I'd just radio in and let you know, thought maybe my best detective could solve the case.” His hysterics started up again-it was safe to assume he purposefully left the radio on for Brooks to hear every single stupid bit of his laughing. Usually a man of few words the only time Carter seemed to really get talkative was during moments like these where he could give Brooks a hard time.

	Radio silence finally followed for a moment before crackling back to life, Carter had turned it on just in time to for Brooks to hear the tail end of a loud sigh that he recognized as the sheriff having finally just finished his laughing fit. “But in all seriousness, just wanted to let ya know I am goin to be callin it an early night. A big city cop like you should be able to handle things here alone, right?”

–

	“I don't mean to interrupt, but are ya'll finally ready or are you just gonna keep taken up one of my tables?” 

	The voice was partially playful with the usual hint of sarcasm regular customers received; each word accented with a rarely seen sort of genuine kindness that seemed to come from her effortlessly. It came from what every local recognized as a friendly face, Allison Marryson. Like every waitress in Kate's she wore a blue apron over her casual attire which more often than not was a nice fitting pair of jeans and a plain bright T shirt. As always she wore a clean white smile and kept her long brown hair fashioned into a tight small bun behind her head with a healthy portion of bangs left hanging just above her eyes. A pencil she never used for anything except chewing was tucked behind her right ear. 

	After mentally taking their orders Allison briefly left to place them with the chef, Kate's husband Larry, but she was quick to return and fill up both John and Lillith's cups. This time she made no effort to leave, instead slightly leaning in to the table as she often did when actually talking to customers. She spoke to both of them but mostly kept her gaze on John. 

	“So the mystery continues. He still hasn't ordered any food but keeps getting the coffee and putting salt in it. The other day I just thought he put the salt in on accident and drank it out of pride, you know, like you stupid boys do.” She gave Lillith a wink with one of her long eyelashes. “But today he did it [i]again[/i]-there's no way he made that mistake twice, right? [i]Right?[/i]” She visibly had to stop herself from looking over he left shoulder where the man in question sat alone atop one of the many bar stools that surrounded the black island counter top in the middle of the diner-currently Kate herself was working behind said counter with Allison picking up the booth customers like usual. 

	For the better part of a week now the salt drinking man had been in town-naturally, being a small town, the locals immediately began gossiping about just who he was and why he was here. No one knowing anything caused the rumors to range from mundane to the outright ludicrous, Allison herself believing the somewhat popular idea that he was some sort of secret agent. He did look the part somewhat-his seemingly endless supply of clean black suits, permanently affixed sunglasses, and immaculately leveled military style crew cut practically screaming stereotypical government employee to those making up stories in their heads. 

	“Well, What do you guys think?”