Dear Mr. Farge,
            Look for Sally Morgan in Overland Park
            in a trailer by the lake.

    Farge turned the paper over, looking at the back. It was blank. He flipped back to the front of the paper and thought to himself, No signature-Another crackpot. He picked up the envelope again and studied it, noting first that there was no return address and then that it was postmarked in Fort Collins, Colorado, over one thousand miles away from Plainsland. "What could a kid in Colorado know about this case?" he asked himself, thinking out loud.
    "What's that, Farge?" Rich asked, overhearing his comment.
    "Nothing. Look at this. Tell me what you make of it, Rich."
    Rich took the letter from Farge and read it, tossing it on the desk when he had finished.
    "Looks like a kid wrote it."
    "That's what I thought to. Someone needs to give that brat a good whipping. It's getting pretty bad when kids start doing this kind of crap. Hell, I've got a whole drawer full of letters like this, but they're not from kids. This is a first."
    "Is there a return address?" Rich asked, looking at the envelope lying face down on the desk.
    "What do you think?" Farge asked.
    "Didn't think so," Rich replied.
    "Do me a favor, Rich. Run this down to the lab and see if they can pick up any prints from it. Also, have Miller take a look at the handwriting and see if he can confirm that it's a kid's handwriting for sure."
    Farge put the letter back in the envelope and handed it to Rich.
    "Bring it back to me when they're done with it down there," he instructed.