Ferris College Library

FERRIS COLLEGE LIBRARY

Lisa walked along the beach, eyes darting here and there, looking for sea glass. Finding small pieces of glass, especially in shades of blue or aqua, was only part of the thrill. As a talented artisan of handmade jewelry, she Imagined how she might use each found piece in her small design studio.

She also found herself wondering what the shard might have been in its original form. Had it been a water glass that came from one of the many shipwrecks along the Pacific coast? Perhaps it had been a champagne glass that had been tossed overboard after a celebration at sea many years before.

As she walked along the shore with a zephyr of wind behind her, she spotted a glint of sunlight reflecting from a half-hidden shard of aquamarine-colored glass. When she reached down to pick it up, a crumpled piece of paper skimmed across the sand, propelled by the gentle breeze.

She bent down and retrieved the irregularly-shaped glass, noting that it was large enough to become a pendant in a fabulous necklace. She saw that the small sheet of paper had become temporarily blocked from further movement by being blown against a piece of driftwood. Driven partially by her tendency to pick up litter as well as her curiosity, she picked up the paper and flattened out the wrinkles against her leg.

At first she thought she was holding someone’s shopping list which had been written on a small sheet of paper from a notepad. After a moment of thought, however, Lisa realized that the list of items seemed more suited to a camping trip, perhaps. She read: flashlight and batteries, nylon rope, duct tape, bandana, map of Fawn Lake, compass.

She shrugged and tucked the note into her collection bag with the intention of tossing it into the recycle bin at her apartment once she was done at the beach.

That evening, while half-listening to the local evening news, she sorted through the newest additions to her sea glass collection. Her ears perked up when the newscaster reported that a young woman had been abducted from the campus of a local college. The woman’s roommate Sara had gotten several calls from the college library that Brynne, the missing student, hadn’t shown up for her afternoon shift and to ask if she might know where Brynne might be.

Sara hadn’t worried about her roomie’s failure to appear until she found Brynne’s cell phone on the floor under a table in their small common room. She called police at that time because Brynne never left without her phone, which was usually literally attached to her person.

Lisa quickly retrieved the paper note she’d found at the beach. The single sheet of paper had said Ferris College Library at the top of the page. A chill ran down her spine as she considered the implications. Had Brynne written the list herself? Had she gone camping alone? Or with someone? Was she in danger? She called the police as had been advised in the newscast and was connected to an officer within a few minutes.

Two policemen arrived at Lisa’s apartment, one of them a woman. After a few questions, they appeared to be satisfied that Lisa was who she’d claimed to be—a good citizen who happened to find the note—and not directly connected to Brynne or her disappearance in any other way. They wanted details about the precise location where Lisa had found it, time and date of finding it, and what she had done with it.

Lisa watched as they read the note using gloved hands, then carefully placed the note in an evidence bag. When they were done with their questions and satisfied that Lisa didn’t know any more about the note or the missing woman, the woman handed her a business card with instructions to call if she had any questions or more information.

Over the next several days, Lisa paid more attention than usual to the local newscast, listening especially for updates on the missing college student. Her closest friends had been interviewed, a former boyfriend was identified as a possible suspect, and detectives visited local hardware stores trying to determine whether or not the items on the list had been purchased recently, especially all at one time. And if so, by whom.

By week’s end, Brynne’s face had been plastered all over the news repeatedly and the police had pleaded with the public to call if they had any information that was even remotely possibly connected to the case. One day Lisa called the detective assigned to the case and asked if anyone had analyzed the handwriting of the note, or compared it to any of the other students or staff who worked at the library. She was thanked and politely dismissed.

Saturday morning, Lisa went to the beach, as she usually did if she was free, and looked again for sea glass and small shells. She found herself wondering if Brynne had walked this very same beach and had dropped the note herself. Or if it fallen out of someone else’s pocket after purchase of the several items.

Where was Brynne now? Had she gone camping and was safe somewhere, not aware that anyone was worried about her? Was she in a cave or hidden in an old warehouse, her hands and feet tied and with duct tape across her mouth? Lisa shivered involuntarily. She tried to imagine what she would do if she were in Brynne’s situation.

Her conscience nagged her such that she abandoned her beach walk and headed back to the parking lot where she’d parked her car. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled passing a small hardware store as she drove from her apartment. She retraced her steps and moved slowly down the main street of the beach community.

She stopped suddenly when she spotted it, almost causing the driver behind her to have a rear-end collision. He honked wildly at her and threw a finger in for good measure. She shrugged and pulled into a street-side parking spot. The “Good Neighbors Hardwood Store” looked like something out of a 50s movie on the outside. She entered the musty-smelling building to see a jumble of tools, gardening equipment, bird seed and other implements. An older man with a shock of white hair and round wire-rimmed glasses wearing a striped denim apron stood bent over in the aisle in front of her. He appeared to be looking for something.

“Hello, Sir,” said Lisa. “Do you have a minute?”

“Are you selling or buying?” the man replied, straightening to a stand.

“Neither. I wonder if you’ve heard about the young woman who went missing about a week ago.”

“Can’t miss that one. It’s on the news every half hour on the hour, as they say. Why?”

“I’m sure the police have already asked you, but did someone come here to buy some camping gear recently? It would have been some rope, a flashlight, duct tape and a bandana.”

“Why are you asking me? Ferris College isn’t anywhere close to Beachville. And that’s what I told the police.”

“It was just a thought because I found the note on the beach last weekend when I was walking. So I wondered if she had been here.”

The man bent over again and said, “Nope. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Thank you anyway, Sir. Do you mind if I take one of your business cards?"

“Go right ahead. They’re next to the cash register.”

Lisa looked around and and saw a vintage register on the counter to her left. She took a card from the plastic holder and pocketed it, but not before noticing the corner of a notepad that was partially hidden by a trade magazine. She checked to be sure she wasn’t being observed and gently moved the magazine so she could read the rest of the words on the notepad. It read Ferris College Library.

                                               The End