CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ding, ding, ding.
I jerked awake.
The dreamland hammock swaying in the gentle breeze, Finn's arms around me, dissolved into the reality of my cold, dark bedroom.
I collapsed back on the pillow. Why did my alarm always go off in the middle of the best dreams? I rubbed my eyes.
Wait a minute.
The room was dark.
It wasn't my alarm. I scrambled for the phone to check the time. Four in the morning. Who was texting me at four in the morning? I shook the last vestiges of sleep from my mind and opened the message.
It was from Chris.
Emergency! Come to the center.
I dropped the phone as if it had bitten me. Images from last weekend flashed through my mind. The same text. The same wording. A dead body.
I scooped up the phone, flung the covers to the floor, and raced down the stairs, no hesitation this time. I shoved my feet into boots and yanked my coat off the hook by the door.
As I cranked my car to life, I glanced down at the phone in the passenger seat. I should text Finn. I might be operating on instinct, but I wasn't stupid. I hesitated, my finger hovering over the screen.
What if this was nothing? How stupid would I feel if I pulled Finn out of bed, only to find Chris working away installing cabinets? I dropped the phone into the cup holder and put the car in reverse. I'd wait and see if Chris's car was at the center before sending the text to Finn.
If I found the parking lot empty again, I'd send the text and wait in the car. If Chris had thoughtlessly summoned me to ask advice on paint color, I wasn't going to bother waking Finn. It would be just like Chris. He spent most of his life wrapped up in his own little world, not thinking about the consequences of his actions on others.
I pulled into the parking lot to see Chris's old Jeep parked by the front door. I huffed out a breath. Everything was okay. Maybe not everything. I was going to kill Chris for scaring me, not to mention pulling me out of bed so early in the morning. I parked next to his car and cut the lights.
His car was here, but the building was dark. I glanced around. The rest of the parking lot sat empty. Why would he work in the dark?
Light from the full moon illuminated the parking lot and surrounding area, bouncing off the windows and making it impossible to see inside. I glanced down at my phone and back at the building.
With a sigh, I picked up the phone and typed out a message to Finn. Chris texted me using the exact same words as last week. I'm at the center. His car is here, but the building is dark. Could be nothing. I'm going to check it out. I'll let you know what I find.
There. Finn could do with that what he wanted.
Despite my best efforts to be careful, the sound of my car door closing echoed across the parking lot, sounding like gunfire. I hesitated. This was the moment. I could still go back to my car and wait for Finn to respond.
I rolled my shoulders and chastised my overactive imagination. Chris was waiting for me. I was being ridiculous. Finn had said to trust my instincts, but right now my instincts splintered in every direction, all possibilities playing through my mind.
I pushed against the door, and it swung open an inch. Just like last week. I shuddered but continued, sliding through the crack and letting the door close behind me.
I waited by the door, giving my eyes time to adjust. The moon filtered through the windows lining the front of the building, but a few feet in, the room disappeared into shadows.
"Chris?" My voice sounded thin in the empty space. "I got your text. What's going on? If this is a joke, it's not very funny." I took a few steps into the room. "Chris?"
A work light on a stand blazed on to my left, and I lifted my hand, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness.
"Look, Chris," a voice jeered from the darkness. "She did come. I told you she would. Everyone knows she'd do anything for you."
I sucked in a sharp breath and turned back toward the door, but my feet wouldn't move as my mind worked to place the voice. Wherever I'd heard it before, it had never been filled with that kind of cold, hard malice.
As I turned, my eyes adjusted to the light. My hand flew to my mouth, muffling the scream that erupted from my lungs. Under the light of a construction lamp, Chris sat tied to a chair, duct tape across his mouth, his eyes wild with fear.
The fear coursing through my body screamed at me to run. Run out the door. Run to Chris. I stood frozen, caught in a war between saving myself and saving my friend. My eyes strained through the shadows trying to find the person responsible.
"What do you want?" My voice echoed into the darkness. I surprised myself with the question. My mind, a flood of adrenaline and terror, operated on its own.
"What do I want? I want Chris to go to prison for Justin's murder like he was supposed to. You just couldn't leave it alone. Heaven forbid anything happens to your precious little Chris. You're pathetic," the voice jeered.
The man's words slammed into me, clearing away some of the fear. "Fine," I shouted, my voice sounding stronger. "I'll stop. Just leave. I don't even know who you are."
"Nice try. You think I'm stupid?" Out of the darkness emerged Mitch, same faded wranglers and beat-up baseball cap he'd been wearing at the bowling alley earlier. The look of contempt on his face twisted through me until I choked on the fear.
"Mitch? I don't understand," I said, staring dumbfounded at the man I'd known since we were kids.
"Shut up! You don't need to understand. All you need to know is if you try to run, I'll kill your boyfriend here," he shouted.
Chris struggled against the duct tape holding his arms and legs to the chair. Panic blazed in his eyes, his muffled cries leaking through the duct tape covering his mouth.
"You shut up too," Mitch barked to Chris as the back of Mitch's hand connected with Chris's face.
"Stop it!" I shouted. "Stop hurting him."
Everything would be okay. Finn would get my text and show up. I just needed to buy him some time. "This was your big plan?" I asked Mitch. "The police are never going to believe Chris killed Justin now that someone abducted him and beat him up."
Mitch curled his upper lip, grabbed a corner of the tape covering Chris's mouth, and yanked, ripping it off as Chris let out a grunt of pain. Mitch turned to Chris and grabbed him by the chin. "You stay quiet, and I'll let you say goodbye to your girlfriend here. Make a scene, and the tape's going back on. Understand?" he asked Chris.
Chris nodded, his gaze focused on me. "I'm so sorry," he croaked out.
"This is not your fault." My voice turned steely. "It's his." Anger at Mitch's betrayal—plus the fear of what was going to happen to me, to Chris—swirled together and pressed on my chest like a heavy weight.
"No," Mitch said, pointing his finger in my direction. "This is your fault. You poked around where you didn't belong. That new detective doesn't know anything about Star Junction. Left on his own, he would have been chasing his tail trying to figure out who killed Justin. Lucky for me," Mitch said, taking a step toward me, "Chris and Justin got into a fight at just the right time. What happened to Justin was a long time coming. I saw my opportunity and took it."
"Gwen, run! Get out of here," Chris said, struggling against his restraints.
"You run, and I'll kill him," Mitch said coldly.
My gaze cut between Mitch's cold, hard expression and Chris's desperate one. I had no doubt Mitch was telling the truth. I also had no doubt he planned to kill both of us anyway. At least with me here, we stood a chance. People always underestimated me. I prayed Mitch would do the same.
"I'm not leaving you," I said to Chris.
Chris dropped his head and moaned.
Mitch stopped a few feet from me and turned back to Chris and said, "I told you she'd never leave you here. You never saw how much she cared about you. Everyone else did, but you have this special talent for being blind to everything around you, Crawford."
I scanned the ground, frantically looking for a weapon as Mitch taunted Chris. I'd never been so grateful for the cluttered construction site. I eased to my right and traded the phone in my hand for a large wrench sitting on the folding table.
Mitch continued taunting Chris while I slid back into place and hid the wrench behind my back. "Mitch, none of this makes any sense. You weren't even on my list of suspects. How is killing me or Chris going to take the suspicion off you?" I asked.
Mitch whipped toward me, his face contorted in anger. "I didn't even make your precious suspect list?" he taunted. "It didn't matter that you were fumbling around in the dark. Even a blind dog finds the water bowl some of the time."
Anger flared through me. I couldn't believe someone I'd been friendly with, even if we hadn't been particularly close, would talk to me like that. "That's just rude," I snapped at him.
Mitch straightened, as if taken aback by my words, before he bellowed out a laugh. "I just told you that I'm going to kill you, and you're upset that I compared you to a dog?"
"A blind dog," I pointed out, fully aware that he was right. It was stupid to worry about an insult, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. Maybe this was what shock was like. Could shock make someone ignore the real threat and focus on something they could control? Was that why people in horror movies always walked toward the creepy sound coming from the basement instead of getting out of the house?
"So, you're the one who threw the rocks and broke the windows at Camelot Flowers," I said, remembering my plan to give Finn time to show up and save the day. Mitch seemed to be in the mood to talk. I was happy to give him the opportunity. "And left the bag of screwdrivers on my front porch?"
Mitch had stopped halfway between Chris and me, too far away for the wrench hidden behind my back to do any good, but too close to make running an option anymore. He'd be on me before I could reach the door.
Shaking his head, Mitch said, "I thought you'd be smart enough to drop it with the threat at Camelot Flowers. If you had, we wouldn't be here tonight. You'd just been out to talk to Palmer at the rock yard. That place was one of Justin's many stupid mistakes. Who forgets to refill the gas tank?"
"And the screwdrivers on my front steps?" I asked while listening for the rumble of Finn's truck in the parking lot. Unfortunately, it was silent save for Mitch's oral report on all the reasons he deserved to kill me.
"I drove past your house the night before and saw the new detective leaving your house." He glanced over his shoulder at Chris and added, "Did you know how cozy they were getting? Looks like you had your chance with her and blew it."
Chris flinched as if Mitch's statement had been one more physical blow to his body. Chris looked at me, his eyes pleading with me as he said, "Gwen, leave now before Mitch can hurt you. I'll be fine." We all knew that was a lie.
"Shut up," Mitch shouted, the sound echoing around the cavernous space. He took a step toward Chris, but I couldn't let Mitch do any more damage, not when Chris was tied up and helpless.
"Hey!" I yelled, drawing Mitch's attention back to me. "You said I was a blind dog bumbling around with no clue what I was doing. That doesn't explain any of this. You killed Justin, which still makes no sense to me, proving your point that I was never going to figure out it was you."
Mitch glared at me as he spit out, "You talked to Tom at the rock yard, you were constantly talking to the detective like he's your new best friend, and then Heidi Fischer told Derek you were harassing her at the mall. Derek mentioned it to me at the bowling alley last night after you pointed the detective in Derek's direction."
Mitch continued, "Fortunately for me, Tommy came to the bowling alley last night after his shift was done. He was still in his police officer uniform and everything. I got a few drinks into him, acted all concerned, and he spilled that the detective was pursuing a motive tied to drugs that had been found under Justin's bed. Drugs," Mitch sneered at me, "that it turns out you were the one to find. This isn't just about covering my tracks. This is about payback."
Mitch lunged at me, and I screamed, swinging the wrench at his head. His hands flew up, and he jerked to the side, but not quickly enough. The wrench connected with his shoulder. He roared in pain and yanked the wrench out of my hands, knocking me to the floor.
"No!" Chris shouted.
"You just made a big mistake," Mitch said through clenched teeth.
I scrambled backward. A long piece of scrap wood lay on the ground a few feet away. I reached for it, but Mitch was faster and kicked it out of the way. Flipping over onto my knees, I lurched to my feet.
I whipped around in time to see Mitch coming at me like a linebacker going in for a tackle. I tried to run, but my foot slipped, and he slammed into me. My back smashed into the wall, knocking the air from my lungs. Mitch leaned into me with his good arm, pinning me in place.
"Mitch, stop! Please!" Chris yelled.
I gasped, each breath too small, too shallow. My hands pushed against his body, but he was unmovable.
"Why?" I wheezed. "What did Justin ever do to you?"
Mitch cocked his head. "Justin didn't do anything to me. It wasn't personal. It was business."
"Business?" I started to feel lightheaded. I needed Mitch distracted. I needed space to breathe.
"I wasn't Justin's friend. I was his boss. You know Justin… He couldn't keep himself out of trouble. The mistakes started adding up until I couldn't ignore them anymore. Something needed to be done."
Chris frantically pulled at the tape holding his wrists to the chair.
I needed to buy Chris some time. Maybe he could get free. I turned my attention back to Mitch. "You were his boss? But Justin worked at the rock yard."
Mitch grabbed me by the shoulders, the grip with his left hand weaker than his right. The wrench hadn't stopped him, but it had injured him. "Justin worked for Palmer because I told him to," Mitch said.
Where was Finn? How much time had passed since I'd texted him? He had to know something was wrong by now.
Mitch continued, "If Justin wasn't such a screw-up, I wouldn't have been forced to deal with him. It was him or me. I have bosses too."
My phone rang from across the room, the cheery ringtone in stark contrast to the violent scene.
Finn!
Mitch glanced behind him in the direction of the sound. I wedged both hands between our bodies and shoved. But he didn't move, and it only made him angrier. He dug his fingers into my shoulders.
"What do you mean, it was him or you?" I asked, frantic to keep Mitch talking.
A cruel smile spread across his face. "It's none of your business," he said quietly, "but since you're about to die, I don't mind telling you."
My mind raced, flicking through the self-defense classes I'd taken over the years. My brain wouldn't focus. Pain. Fear. Chris. Mitch.
Mitch continued, "Justin's one and only job was to move the drugs. Simple. Pick it up when he's supposed to. Drop it off when he's supposed to. Keep the job at Palmer's so we had access to the trucks." Mitch shook his head. "Idiot never refilled the tanks and got himself fired. Hiring him was my biggest mistake."
"Why drugs?" The idyllic picture I had of Star Junction and its hardworking, churchgoing residents was fading faster than a bouquet of roses without water.
Mitch sneered. "You live your sheltered existence, but you have no idea what's happening in the privacy of people's homes. Where there's a demand, I'm more than happy to fill it."
I sucked in a breath, which only caused Mitch to laugh. He wrapped his hand around my arm and pulled me toward Chris. "Time to end this. It's going to get light soon, and I need to be out of town before someone finds you."
I stumbled behind Mitch, trying to stay on my feet. In the struggle, we'd moved out of Chris's eyeline. Mitch whipped Chris's chair around so it was facing us.
"When Justin loaned the money that was meant for the next shipment to Crawford here…" Mitch shook his head in disgust. "The guy had no sense. I go out of town one weekend, leave the bank with him, and he takes half of it to help out his buddy. When I got back, he was all like 'He's going to pay it back with interest. I thought you'd be happy.' I wasn't happy. What do I say to the guy above me? We invested your money in a community center designed to keep kids off drugs?"
"But I paid Justin back," Chris interjected.
"Don't you get it?" Mitch snarled. "Loaning you that money put both Justin and me in danger. All his talk about how you were going to pay him back with interest, which was going to double the money. That wasn't our money to give out. That money was to pay our suppliers for the next shipment." Mitch stalked a tight circle around Chris. "If you hadn't had some kind of crisis of conscience and paid Justin back when you did, he and I would both be dead. I couldn't risk something like that happening again. Justin had to go."
"Just let Gwen leave," Chris begged.
Mitch hit Chris with enough force to make the chair lean precariously to the side before jarring back to the ground. Chris grunted, but pain flashed across Mitch's face too. His shoulder. This was my last hope. I needed him to face me. I needed access to that shoulder.
I took a deep breath and taunted a murderer. "Justin was right, you know. You're the idiot."
Mitch whipped around. "What did you say?" he growled.
"I said he was right. You're the one who's an idiot." I had no idea what I was saying. Justin and I had never talked about Mitch, but it seemed to be working.
Mitch closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm, our faces inches apart, his nose lined up with my forehead. "You little b—"
I closed my hand around Mitch's injured shoulder, jerked my head back, and swung my forehead into his face as hard as I could.
Mitch roared in pain, and his grip on my arm loosened. I slid out of his reach and searched the area for anything I could use to stop him. My gaze landed on a metal pipe lying on the counter next to the sink, and I scooped it up. It wasn't very big, but it was heavy. Mitch bent over, holding his face.
"This is for hurting Chris," I said as I swung the pipe at his temple.
He jerked his head up in time to see the pipe coming, but this time he couldn't avoid my attack. The pipe connected, and Mitch's eyes widened in shock before rolling back in his head as he crumbled to the ground.
The pipe dropped from my hands with a clang, the sound echoing through the large space. I stared at Mitch, the childhood friend who'd turned out to be an enemy.
"Gwen!" Chris's strangled cry broke through my shock. "Gwen, I thought I was going to lose you."
I rushed to his side and pulled at the tape holding his arm to the chair.
"How did he get you tied up like this?" I glanced over at Mitch, who lay unmoving on the floor. "Do you think I killed him?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"Who cares? He deserved it. Watching him hurt you?" Chris stopped, his voice thick with emotion. "When I thought I was going to lose you forever?" His statements hung in the air, too horrific to finish.
"How did he get you into this chair?" I repeated.
Chris rolled his neck. "I was working late. Since I haven't had anything else to do, I've been pouring myself into finishing the remodel. I was bent over picking up a box of nails when something hit me over the head. I woke up tied to this chair, Mitch sitting across from me."
I freed the last piece of tape holding Chris's wrist. He reached up and cupped my face. "I can't lose you," he said as his eyes welled with unshed tears.
"You won't," I promised. I glanced at Mitch to make sure he wasn't waking up.
"I'm serious Gwen. I can't lose you," Chris said again.
"You work on your other wrist. I'll work on getting your feet free," I said as I bent over and pulled at the tape around Chris's ankles. I freed his left leg before he'd finished on his wrist. I started on his other ankle. "We need to call 9-1-1. Mitch might wake up," I said nervously.
"I hope he does," Chris said with venom in his voice.
"No, you don't," I chided gently.
Chris was finally in the clear. The last thing I needed was him getting into trouble with the law for attacking Mitch out of some need to avenge me. I pulled the last piece of tape from his ankle. "That's not who you are," I added.
"It's who I am when someone threatens you," he said. He finally freed his hand. Before I could respond, he stood, wrapped both arms around me, and crushed me against his chest. He winced with the pain but didn't let go.
"I'm so glad you're safe," I said into his chest.
Chris eased back from the hug, his gaze filled with emotion I rarely saw in him. There was no teasing glint and no flirty but empty gleam. What I was seeing was something real, and it was directed right at me.
"Gwen, I—" Chris started, but the door banged open, drawing our attention to where Finn stood, illuminated by the light of the moon.
Finn's eyes widened as he took in the scene of Chris and me standing next to Mitch's prone body, all three of us illuminated by the set of construction lights Mitch had turned on when I arrived.
Marching across the room, Finn's gaze darted between the chair Chris had been tied to, Mitch's unmoving form, and me. Flashing red and blue lights bounced around the room as two police cruisers pulled to a stop outside the door. Finn reached my side, and his gaze swept across me. "Are you hurt? What happened here?" he asked.
I pointed to Mitch. "There's your murderer," I said as I shuddered at the realization of how close I'd come to being just like Justin. "I'm okay, but someone should check out Chris. Mitch hit him over the head before tying him to that chair."
Finn unclipped a radio from his belt and said, "I need an ambulance at 504 Lincoln." He listened to the response, which sounded like a garbled mess to me but must have made sense to him.
"I'm fine. I don't need an ambulance," Chris said, rubbing his jaw where Mitch had punched him.
"Looks like he does," Finn said, jerking his head in Mitch's direction. Mitch still hadn't woken up. "Someone care to explain to me what happened here?"
Two officers in uniform, Jefferies and Tommy, walked into the building. Tommy took in the scene, his gaze landing on me. "How do you keep landing yourself in the middle of trouble?" he asked, looking bewildered at the scene.
"I don't know," I admitted as I gingerly reached behind me and touched the back of my head. The dull ache from Mitch pushing my head into the wall had skipped right past throbbing to pounding.
Jefferies, who had also been at the scene the night of Justin's murder, flicked the master switch, flooding the room with light.
Tommy let out a low whistle as he took in the scene.
The reality of what I'd just survived slammed into me. My breath caught, the panic threatening to overwhelm my senses. I needed to stay focused on the facts. I could have a meltdown later. Alone.
"Mitch tried to kill us." My voice wobbled, and I swiped at the tears running down my face. "He killed Justin," I added.
Both Finn and Chris moved to comfort me, but Chris was closer. He pulled me into a hug, his hand moving in soothing circles on my back as he said, "It's okay. We're safe now. It's over. It's all over."
Finn cleared his throat, and I stepped away from Chris as an ambulance pulled into the parking lot. "We're going to let the paramedics take a look at you both. Adrenaline can mask injuries. Then we'll need to take your statements," Finn said.
I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my hands and twisted them into a tight knot. "What about Mitch?" I asked.
"You let us worry about Mitch." Finn's words held all the strength and comfort I needed at the moment. I didn't have to worry about Mitch anymore. I didn't have to worry about Justin's murder or Chris being accused of something he didn't do. It was finally over.
Two paramedics came striding through the door and surveyed the scene. They headed across the room. One of them stopped in front of me, while the other knelt by Mitch.
The paramedic scanned my body and then glanced over at Chris, assessing him as well. She was a few inches taller than me, and her black, curly hair was tied in a ponytail at her neck. "My name is Shana," she said. "We're going to get you checked out. Tell me about any injuries."
The paramedic kneeling next to Mitch checked his pulse. "His pulse is strong and steady," he said to Shana. "Do you know what happened to him?" The last question was directed to me.
"Yeah," I said wearily. "I hit him with a pipe."
The paramedic raised one eyebrow.
"And a wrench. And I headbutted his face. He tried to kill me," I added as an afterthought.
Shana's eyes widened, but she simply said, "Are you hurt anywhere?"
I reached for the back of my head. "He hit my head into the wall a few times. I'm okay, really. You should check Chris," I said.
Shana rummaged through her bag and came out with a disposable ice pack. She broke it and gave it a few shakes before handing it to me. She flashed a pen light over my face, tracking my pupils. "Your cognitive skills seem intact. Put this on your head," she instructed.
I put the ice pack against the back of my head, hissing as the cold plastic came into contact with the tender bruise already forming. Shana moved over to Chris as I walked to a folding chair across the room and collapsed into it.
Finn was at my side within seconds. He crouched down next to me, his hand tracing down my arm, his gaze filled with concern. "I should've been here sooner," he said, his voice holding a note of self-recrimination.
While the terrifying moments with Mitch had felt like an eternity, I had a feeling not much time had passed. I settled my hand over his. "Thank you for coming," I said.
Finn looked like he wanted to say something else but hesitated. He glanced at the scene across the room where the paramedic had rolled Mitch onto his back. Shana was dabbing at the raw spots on Chris's wrists from where he'd been restrained.
By the time Finn looked back at me, he'd shifted from Finn to Detective Butler. Back to business. He stood and pulled a chair over next to mine. The last time we'd sat like this in this room, there'd been a table between us. Now, we sat knee to knee as Finn pulled his phone from his pocket. "I don't have my tape recorder," he said. "This will have to do." He opened the voice recorder app and pressed the record button. "Tell me what happened."
I shifted the ice pack. "I got here in the middle of everything, but I'll tell you what I know." I spent the next few minutes running through everything Mitch had done since I walked through the door and everything he'd told me.
"He told you all of that?" Finn asked incredulously.
I shrugged. "He didn't think I'd live to tell anyone. He underestimated me. People do it all the time."
Like last weekend, Finn asked the same questions over and over. Unlike last weekend, I wasn't irritated by those questions. He remained professional during the questioning until I described Mitch slamming me into the wall. His expression thundered with anger, and he took my hand in his, as if needing a physical reminder that I was safe.
"We need to get pictures of your injuries," Finn said. He turned and caught Tommy's gaze. "Grab the kit from the cruiser," Finn instructed. Tommy nodded and headed outside. "I'm going to need to oversee evidence collection," Finn explained. "If you're cleared by the paramedics, I'm assuming you're going to want to go home. I'd like to come by and check on you when I'm done."
"I'd like that," I said.
Chris headed toward us as Finn stood. "Sit tight," Finn said. "I'll be back with the camera, and we'll get you out of here."
Chris stopped Finn as they crossed paths, grasping Finn's hand in what looked like a firm handshake. "Thanks for everything you did to find Justin's killer. I know this was a difficult case. I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other around town. I hope we can put this past week behind us," Chris said.
Finn looked just as surprised as I felt at Chris's statement. Finn clapped Chris on the shoulder and said, "I'm glad we discovered the truth. What you're building here will be an asset to the community. Anything I can do to help, you let me know."
"Thanks," Chris said. "I appreciate that."
Finn walked across the room to Tommy, and they began conferring about something. Chris watched them for a second before turning back to me. He looked uncertain. It was a new look on him.
"Before we got interrupted," Chris said, dropping his gaze to the floor for a moment before raising it to meet mine again. He cleared his throat and straightened his spine. "Go out with me. Soon." He laughed but it was nervous. "As soon as possible," he added.
My breath hitched. "Like on a date?" Before he could answer, I shook my head and said, "You're in shock. You don't know what you're saying." Was it possible all my dreams were coming true just hours after saying yes to a date with Finn? Was being with Chris still my dream? Should I feel happier? Less confused?
"Say yes," Chris urged. "One date. Let me show you this is real."
"Yes," I whispered. Whether this was the shock talking or not, I owed it to myself to see if what Chris was saying was true.
* * *