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Matt didn't get reimbursed for his hamburger—Crusty said he'd have had to eat, anyway—but he did get mileage, at least.
The story got filed, but it was only of the "mysterious happening in the mountains" genre at best.
The readers of the paper were never surprised to hear about the government running wild and not telling anybody anything. Not even the local law enforcement community seemed to know anything. Maybe someone would call in a tip that he could pursue, but for now he couldn’t do any more.
Still, it nagged him. Illegal aliens had always been common in the area, seldom causing problems. They were often helpful, actually. So what was so special about a small blonde woman? Who raised the alarm? What had happened to her? He'd continue to make a few inquiries, but he didn't hold out much hope for the story.
The weekend was pretty much shot. That was the price of glory for being a newspaper sleuth, he reckoned. There was still time to make the Sunday buffet at the Sirloin Warehouse. After that, there was always television, a book, or maybe a visit to the gym. Tomorrow the preparation for the winter livestock show began. He was paying the price, but there was precious little sign of glory.
