After Ben dropped Joe off, he disappeared from sight. Vin never heard from him, nor did Joe or anyone else in the operation. A search turned up nothing either. Ben was a ghost.
It was two days before anybody found Rain’s body in the fields. The police were swift to begin an investigation. The news gave word about tire tracks leading away from the scene, a small pistol left by the body, and a few shoe prints in the soft dirt. The investigators assured the culprit would be caught soon.
Throughout the civilian population, many mourned the loss of the runaway girl they’d been looking for so diligently. Candlelight vigils were held, charities popped up out of nowhere in her name, and a large, albeit private, funeral was held.
The day after the funeral, Ben poked his head into the light for the first time since the night in the fields. He sat in his parked car, looking at the building across the street. Constant contemplations went through his mind. He already knew he would go into the building, but what would he do once he was in? How much would he say? How would he say it.
The Kansas City police station loomed over him, waiting for him to enter, mocking him. Ben knew he’d have to get out and face the closing in reality eventually, and he knew there was no honor among thieves, much less murderers.
After nearly an hour of silent thought, Ben stepped out of his car and took the slow walk across the street and into the lobby of the police station. His stone cold expression didn’t change as he approached the front desk. The tall, uniformed woman behind the desk turned him with a blank look.
“Can I help you?” she wondered.
“My name is Ben Scallazi, I’d like to confess to the murder of Rain Phillipa.”