FireWatch

That evasive thought that Colin Cassidy had been trying to recall since early April finally came to him on this October night. He slapped his hand down hard on the bar, hard enough to instantly get the attention of the barmaid, as well as the rest of the bar patrons over at Jack's Place. Everyone looked over at him. This was not the Colin that everyone knew. It certainly was strange behavior for the old fellow, with him usually as quiet as a mouse. "Get me a piece of paper, will you?" he barked, sounding nearly as insistantly as a Parris Island DI. "An' a pencil, too!" he added. "Go easy, Colin," reacted the barmaid. "You'll give yourself a heart attack." "Who cares! Just get me a piece of paper an' a pencil before I forget what I'm trying to remember." "Okay, okay," said the barmaid, smiling. "Hold your horses." With the paper before him and a pencil in his shaking hand, Colin scribbles one word before he pauses to look around at his curious audience. He had written the word, Matt, but with his hand shaking so, no one could possibly identify his scrawling. What he wrote, however, that one word, has something to do with the disappearance of that waitress last April. No wonder his old, lifetime pal George Brady kept interrupting his thoughts--it was George's son, Matt Brady, that he had wanted to talk to all this time. Damn!