Life is interesting, Sam Donaldson thought.
He had brought back those tiny bits of metal to the Sheriff's office. The FBI agents he'd brought with him from Las Vegas had been generously provided with ample space to set up shop, and they put it to good use. The Sheriff also made available to Sam the resources of the Sheriff's department. This made sense to Sam - the Sheriff cared for his men and would want anything and everything possible brought to bear that could help find out where he'd been and what had happened to him. The disappearance of Deputy Jake Trotter had cast a pallor around everything and everyone at the Sheriff's office. These people were barely holding it together.
When he'd pulled out the baggie, he'd originally wanted to keep his find to himself and his agents. He wasn't even sure what he'd found. But at that exact second, however, Deborah - the matronly lady from dispatch - happened to come in with a plate of cookies. Her eyes got big at the sight of the baggie, but the bits of metal were so small it was difficult to ascertain what they were. She moved closer to Sam, all but grabbing the baggie out of his hands.
"Have you found something, Mr. Donaldson?" she'd asked.
"Yes, but I'm not sure what."
"Doesn't look like much. Some kind of metal..."
"Yes. Do you happen to have access to a gas chromatograph?" Sam asked, without any real hope.
"Sure do! The Sheriff applied for a grant for one a couple of years ago. We use it mainly to help identify drugs and the marijuana types we see around here, looking for a common supplier," Deborah had said.
Sam couldn't believe his luck. He took the baggie across the hall to the room Deborah indicated had the gas chromatograph in it. Taking out one of the bits of metal, he used tweezers to place it on the small plastic tray the technician provided. Then he took the rest of the bits of metal to the other room and had them cataloged as evidence. There really wasn't much else to do - they'd already photographed them.
Two hours later, the results were in.
The technician handed Sam a copy of the report:
greater than 40% silver (Ag)
less than 32% tin (Sn)
less than 30% copper (Cu)
less than 2% zinc (Zn)
less than 3% mercury (Hg)
less than 1% others (silicon, oxygen, calcium, carbon)
"What does this look like to you?" Sam asked the agent closest to him.
"Not sure. Definitely not something found in nature, though. It's got to be man-made."
Again, Deborah just happened to be walking by, this time headed out to lunch. "Can I pick you gentlemen up something from the sandwich shop?" she asked.
"None for me, thanks," Sam answered, cutting off the agent who seemed about to ask for something.
"They have soups and things, in addition to just sandwiches. I could bring you back a couple of bowls of their finest chili or chicken noodle soup."
Sam could see that her desire to mother the agents was not going to let her quit until she had their order. Slightly annoyed, but even more amused by this woman, he finally asked her to bring back a bowl of each. She smiled and bustled off.
Deborah returned about 10 minutes later with some Styrofoam containers of soup. The agent Sam had with him eagerly reached for the chicken noodle and began to eat, not even waiting for the bread and crackers Deborah was pulling out of the bag. She noticed the copy of the chromatograph results on the desk and picked it up.
"These the results of that study? Any idea what it is?"
"Nope. It appears to be man-made, but more than that we can't tell. We've faxed a copy to the headquarters in Virginia, and we're expecting the results soon," Sam said.
Just then the agent behind Sam cried out in pain, grabbing his jaw in agony. "Ah, my tooth!" he exclaimed, clearly barely able to say anything at all through his clenched teeth. He leaned over and spat something out into the lid of the container he'd just peeled off the soup. It seemed that the rapid temperature change had cracked one of his molars.
Sam looked at the mess he'd spat out of his mouth, noticing how there was a glint to the tooth. All at once it hit him just what he was looking at - the tooth filling in the agent's now broken tooth glinted in the fluorescent lights of the office. Sam hurried over to the little baggie he'd set on his own desk and brought them over to where the agent and Deborah stood, watching him. He set the baggie down by the lid.
"Notice anything?" Sam asked, triumphantly.
"These are tooth fillings?" Deborah asked. "You don't think these could be Jake's, do you?"
That question had prompted a trip to the local dentist's office, the one where Jake Trotter had received his annual check ups as well as his fillings. Yes, he'd had fillings. Yes, they'd been done here. Yes, we have his x-rays on file. Sure, Sam could look at them.
They compared the tiny bits of metal with the white spots they saw on the film, noticing almost immediately that they were the same basic shape and size. There was one missing - the one used to perform the gas chromatograph - but otherwise it was a perfect match. There could be no doubt - these fillings had belonged to Jake Trotter.
What on earth could get rid of a guy so completely as to leave no trace but his TOOTH FILLINGS? Sam wondered. In spite of himself and his years of training and experience, he began to sweat. His training had simply not prepared him for something of this nature.
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