The Captain made a truly valiant effort to conceal his bafflement towards Elise, whose dress and customs certainly set her several leagues apart from anyone used to country living.  He shook his head and took a deep breath before plunging on.<br/><br/>"Of course," he muttered to himself as he rummaged around in his desk.  He brought up a sheaf of papers from one of the drawers and set it down between them.  "These are all the records to do with the kidnappings.  It isn't much, but it's better than nothing.  I can give you the addresses and names of the girls and their families, though I doubt they'll be particularly helpful.  Most have already come to terms with their loss and won't like having the wounds picked at."<br/><br/>He flipped to the first page, squinting in the meager light to make out the words.  "Right, first victim was<em>Eliza Strentan</em>, age 17, light brown hair, green eyes, fair complexion.  Was last seen leaving the Ugly Setter's Pub on Westminster Street on the 17th of Yuletide near midnight, just this past year.  Daughter to Samuel and the late Helena Strentan.  Poor soul up and poisoned herself in the bath one month after the disappearance."<br/><br/>"Second was<em>Patricia Persimmons</em>, age 18, ginger, blue eyes, fair complexion.  Was purportedly taken right from her bedroom a month and a week after Strentan.  Daughter to Patrick and Penny Persimmons.  They live up at 13 Barker's Street, though I doubt you'll get much out of them.  Got another child on the way, last I heard, and any damages from the attack have already been repaired."<br/><br/>As he read each name on the list, Brackett's face grew tighter and tighter.<em>Jessica Langley</em>, age 17, light brown hair, blue eyes, fair complexion.<em>Beatrice Strut</em>, age 17, light brown hair, light brown eyes, fair complexion.<em>Eli Cartwright</em>, age 19, blonde hair, brown eyes, fair complexion.<em>Dahlia Primrose</em>, age 16, blonde hair, blue eyes, fair complexion.<em>Caroline Brackett</em>, age 19, light blonde hair, green eyes, fair complexion.  In each case the victim had been walking out past midnight or were torn violently from their bedrooms, all of which happened to be on the second or third floors of the buildings in which they lived.  Each was taken in either the second or third week of the month, but after the first two the months were never consecutive.<br/><br/>Captain Brackett exhaled, as if a great weight had pressed itself against his chest.  "If the girls were still here, we would have found them already.  Listan's grown quite a bit since the last war, but the community is as closely-knit as ever.  We're good, honest folk, Lady Elise, I assure you of that.  No prostitution or slaving here.  Not on my watch."<br/><br/>"There is something else," he added, though he seemed hesitant to do so.  "In all these kidnappings, no one witnessed the culprit in the act.  That is, until...until the last.  Olaf Peterson, you know him," he nodded to Tara, "The town drunk.  Public disgrace.  Claims it was a bloody great<em>demon</em>that did it.  No one believed him, of course, but I made sure it was left in the reports.  Funny thing, the man's kept stone sober ever since.  Lives down off Deep End, last house on the left."<br/><br/>He lifted another sheet from the desk, this one with a formal seal pressed in red ink at the bottom.  "This is a Writ of Authority, signed by myself and the current Captain Gawain, giving you permission to look into this case."  He flashed them a wide grin.  "Truth is there's no such thing as a Writ of Authority, but most folks won't question a document if it looks fancy enough.  Should loosen some lips in any case."<br/><br/>Almost as an afterthought he passed the sheaf and a key to Tara.  "The key's to my house, up on Pritchett.  Caroline's room is just as she left it, damages 'n all.  Figure you might want to start there before you get to questionin' folks."