Stanford, Connecticut The windshield wipers on Mindy's rented Ford minivan appeared ready to fly off the vehicle. The rain had been coming down in torrents since she left the airport. Making matters worse was the fact that she had no idea where she was going. The New York traffic was like a moving parking lot, and the driver behind her honked his horn every time she tapped the breaks.
She finally made it through the gridlock and found the on ramp to Interstate 91 after circling the city countless times. A few minutes later, she found the exit for Stanford and quickly turned off and away from the breakneck pace.
Christopher Gilbert's home was in the suburbs, nestled among huge oak trees that looked to be two hundred years old. She liked the neighborhood. It reminded her of the communities in old black and white movies-the movies she used to stay up all night to watch when she did not have to get up early for work.
Finally, if her quick research was correct, she found the house. Actually, Eric gave her all the information. His effort to locate the right Christopher Gilbert through the previous year's tax records saved her a ton of time-something it seemed that the participants of the game were fast running out of. In his "research," Eric also came up with one other tidbit of information. Ricky Sutton, the youngest of the contestants in Matthew Fox's warped competition, had been found in a pool of blood on his kitchen floor a week earlier. His girlfriend, who discovered the body, entered the room only seconds after the assailant fled.
While Eric gathered what he could on Christopher, Mindy talked to Mitch about being granted another few days to work on the case. She actually referred to her current job as an assignment while talking to Mitch, but in her mind it was a case-her case, and she would allow no one else to solve it. Mitch granted her two more days; luckily, they were not exactly busy in the office. Any further time, he informed her, would have to personal.
Mindy pulled up before the home that displayed the address Eric had given her. He also told her about a second address, an apartment, which was found in Christopher's tax return, but she was not looking for Christopher. She was looking for his family. Unless she was totally off base, Christopher would not be at home and, in order to find him, she had to talk to his wife-and pray that she knew where he was.
