Page 48 of Nowhere Good

Norman’s office was colder than the rest of the building. A thermostat was built into the wood panel wall beside the door, and the carpet was a shaggy forest green. A single desk sat in the middle.

Seth made his way through the room, skimming the back wall, lined with photos of Mr. Giggles over the years, going all the way back to the 90s. One photo showed Norm Stanfield as a young man, wearing the Mr. Giggles costume, the head hooked under his arm. He’d had a mustache and a mullet, smiling brightly at the camera like it was the happiest day of his life.

“Norm hasn’t actually worn the costume in years,” Stephen explained, lingering in the doorway. “He gets one of us to do it. I was Mr. Giggles a few times before I got to be manager. The costume’s really hot, so I’d much rather do this.”

“Quite the job,” Seth said, scanning the clean surface of Norm’s desk. No pictures of his own family or kids, just another photo of himself—or someone else—as Mr. Giggles, standing above a group of children. Like most things in this place, Norman’s computer was from another era. Not a flatscreen in sight.

“Yeah, it’s a great place,” Stephen stammered, anxiously checking his phone. “Parents leave their kids here for hours. They love it.”

“What’s Norm like? He have any kids? A partner?”

“Nah, he’s a nice guy, though. He’s really had my back, gave me a job here when I was seventeen. He’ll hire pretty much any high schooler as long as they’re not bad seeds.”

Seth lifted a brow. “Bad seeds?”

“Yeah, like… detention kids. Smokers, drinkers, drug addicts. You know the type.”

He did, indeed. He’d been one of them.

“So Norm values the integrity of the business,” Seth said. When Stephen checked his phone again, Seth asked, “You need to be somewhere, Stephen?”

“W-well—I need to let the kids into one of the party rooms. Their mom’s getting impatient. Will this take much longer?”

“Don’t worry, you can go. I’m good here.”

Stephen hesitated, clutching his phone, before he said, “I’ll be right back,” and darted down the hall.

With Stephen gone, Seth began shimmying open the drawers of the desk. Most of them were full of general office supplies. But as he peeked into the bottom drawer, the larger of the bunch, there was only one thing inside. A big, black hunk of plastic.

An old camcorder.

Seth frowned. He hadn’t seen one of these in years. He carefully picked it up, the technology bulky in his hands. The device didn’t respond when he pressed the power button. It was uncommon to have one of these—even the cheapest smartphone on the market ten years ago could film a higher quality video. But Norman Stanfield had an appreciation for the old ways.

That alone wasn’t strange. It wasn’t a crime to have niche hobbies, but combined with the complaint—and everything else—it painted an unpleasant picture.

This guy was definitely weird enough to question.

Outside, the afternoon sun blared in Seth’s eyes. He squinted into it as he rounded the building, into the parking lot. He almost didn’t recognize the person leaning against the hood of his car, wearing a crisp blue uniform.

Chief Wells.

One arm was tucked over her chest, the other fidgeting with her cross necklace. Her police cruiser was parked right beside his car. She stood at attention when she saw him, gathering herself.

“Chief, what are you doing here?”

“Pereira said you got a tip about this place,” Wells said, scanning the building. A hint of remorse laced her voice. “Find anything out?”

“Yeah, I got a name. Owner of this place was a person of interest in the Ellen Harrison case. Norman Stanfield. I was about to go talk to him.”

Chief Wells sighed, like his words were a physical blow.

“Friend of yours?”

“Oh, I’ve known Norm my whole life.”

He waited for the punchline, but Wells didn’t elaborate. “But you’re not jumping to defend him,” he said.

She shook her head, her face softening with disappointment. “Not this time, I’m afraid. You mind if I ride with you on this one? I’ll explain on the drive.”