Daniel roughly pulled off his glasses and threw them on top of the pile of paper on the table in front of him. Rubbing furiously at his bloodshot eyes, he squinted across at Sam, her blonde head buried behind reams of paper.

"What time is it?" Daniel groaned, closing his eyes and trying to figure out how much coffee he’d ingested over the course of the past few hours.

"It is 0400 hours, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c answered glancing up from the papers he held. To Daniel’s eye, even Teal’c looked tired.

Daniel hadn’t thought that there would have been so many people moving and building in the area during the last four years. He had been sorting through the complex land deals and building permits for hours now.

"This is impossible," Daniel complained getting to his feet and plodding over to the coffee maker where he poured himself yet another cup. He was running on caffeine and adrenaline—pure and simple.

He heard Sam’s deep sigh and turned to find her eyes flashing with anger. "Daniel—"

He put up his hand in mock surrender, a sheepish smile coming to his face. "I know, I know. I’m just tired and grumpy and my eyes are crossing and I feel like we’re running in circles."

"What do you hope to accomplish by running in circles, Daniel Jackson?" Teal’c asked, his eyebrow raised. "Would it not be more beneficial for us to search through these documents to find what we seek?"

Daniel smiled, wrapping his hands around the warm mug of coffee. "Yes, Teal’c, it would." He paused, letting his mind mull over the various thoughts running through it. There had to be a better way to do this. He could feel the furrow in his forehead deepening as he concentrated. "Sam, I know it’s too early to call anyone, but might there still be someone here who remembers the family? If Wayne is still alive and in the area, they might know."

"Maybe," Sam replied, her voice thoughtful.

Daniel turned as Sheriff Lane walked through the door of the Records Office followed by Janet and Anne. They all looked as exhausted as Daniel felt.

"Sheriff Lane, you said you knew the Nichols family, right?" Daniel asked, without waiting for the usual pleasantries.

"Yes," he replied, stopping to lean against the table, his arms folded across his chest. "Why?"

"Would there be anyone still in the area who knew the family well?"

"I’m sure there are people still here. Linda and Michael were well liked, but they were older…" Lane’s voice trailed off, this expression thoughtful. "Well, there’s Michael’s fishing buddy, Tommy…Tom Hayes, he’s still living here. Then, there would also be Linda’s friend, Betty Sterling. Oh, there’s also Edna Penkowski and her sister Olive. I can never remember Olive’s last name…"

"Edna did you say?" Daniel asked, moving quickly back to the table, donning his glasses once again, and shuffling through some files. The name had rung a bell.

"Yeah. Edna was a friend of Linda’s. Did you find something?" Lanes asked, stepping closer, hovering over Daniel’s shoulder.

"I think so," Daniel replied vaguely. He’d seen something, but where it was now was another story entirely. The top of the paper suddenly appeared before his eyes. He pulled it from the pile "According to this," Daniel said, holding it up, "Edna Penkowski purchased and built a house in Woods Edge three years ago."

"That doesn’t make any sense," Lane argued. "She’s had a house there for years. She owns a general store in town and she hasn’t moved for as long as I can remember. Besides, I didn’t think she could afford to purchase another house."

Sam wiggled her fingers, gesturing for Daniel to hand over the single sheet of paper.

"Maybe she bought it for someone else?" Janet said, speaking up for the first time since she’d arrived.

"What if it was for Wayne?" Daniel asked, glancing around, catching everyone’s eyes.

"I think we need to speak to Edna," Lane said, his tone matter-of-fact. Glancing at his watch, he continued, "It’s about 4:30 now, the store opens at six for the sport fishermen. We can probably catch her at home in an hour before she heads out. It should give us enough time to find the plans for the house and the rest of the documents. What do you think?"

"Let’s do it," Daniel said, meeting Lane’s gaze evenly. Everyone got back to work quickly with a renewed energy.

They were close. Daniel could feel it.

By 0530, Sam and Sheriff Lane were standing on Edna Penkowski’s porch, knocking on the front door.

"Edna, are you up?" Lane called conversationally through the open screen door. Sam could hear movement in the rear of the house and a minute later an older woman, probably around 65, made her way to the door wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"Well, Jonathan Lane, what are you doing here at such a god-awful hour of the morning and who is this pretty young thing you’ve got with you?" Edna asked, a welcoming smile on her face. She held the door open, allowing Lane and Sam to walk into the foyer.

"Actually, Edna, this is Major Samantha Carter and I’m helping her with a kidnapping case she’s working on."

"Kidnapping?" Edna asked, a frown quickly replacing her smile. "Well, what I can help you with, young lady?"

Sam nearly smiled at Edna’s use of the phrase "young lady", but let it slide. "Actually, Mrs. Penkowski, we’re looking for Wayne Nichols. We believe he may be involved with in it."

"Wayne? Well, that really doesn’t surprise me," Edna said, shaking her head. "He’s a strange boy that one. What do you need to know?"

"You know him?"

"Know him? Of course, I know him. I watched him grow up. You see, his mom Linda and I were good friends. We went to the same church," Edna explained, her expression thoughtful. "When his mom died in that awful car crash he was devastated and he asked me to help him out. And this is the peculiar part. He wanted me to buy a piece of land down by Flatbed Lake for him. I still don’t understand why he couldn’t do it himself, but he gave me the money in cash and I did what he asked. It was the least I could do for the poor boy. I see him every now and then when he stops at the store."

"Is this the house and property in Woods Edge?" Lane asked, excitement in his voice.

Edna nodded affirmatively. "Yeah. I’ve only been there once. Wayne was awful proud of the house and he wanted to show it off. It’s very secluded, set back on the property."

Sam exchanged a quick glance with Lane. They had been right. Wayne was alive and still living in Montana.

Sam offered Edna a warm smile. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Penkowski. We really appreciate it and we’re sorry to have bothered you so early in the morning."

"Oh, nonsense," Edna said, shooing Sam’s comment away with the wave of her hand. "I’m up anyway, it’s no bother. I hope you’re able to find what you’re looking for." Edna paused for a second, before continuing. "You know, if Wayne is involved in this horrible kidnapping, I hope you can help him. He’s a very troubled young man."

When Daniel saw Sam and Lane emerge from the house with grim smiles on their faces, he knew they had found the information they needed, but he shifted uneasily in his seat. They weren’t walking fast enough for his liking. The short time that he had to wait in the car had felt like an eternity.

Sam slid into the back seat alongside him and offered a triumphant smile. "We were right. Wayne lives in that house by Flathead Lake. Now we need to get a search warrant for the property."

"Why?" Daniel asked.

"We have to do this by the book, Doctor Jackson," Lane answered, turning the key in the ignition. "We can swing by Judge Thomas’ house. He’ll be able to issue it quickly and I know he’ll cooperate."

"It’ll take time," Daniel complained.

"It won’t take long," Lane said, pulling away from the curb. "If you want Wayne to pay for what he’s done, we have to make sure we find the evidence legally otherwise, he’ll just walk out the door and vanish again."

"Fine," Daniel grumbled, turning to look out the window.

It was a little after 0700 when they finally pulled into the long driveway leading up to Wayne’s house, parking behind a dull gray car. Judge Thomas had been easy to convince and had approved a search warrant immediately.

They had had to stop at the station house briefly, Lane making arrangements for Janet and Anne to be brought to the property. They’d decided to take a few hours to sleep because once Jack was found they probably wouldn’t have the opportunity.

Alighting from the car, Daniel took a deep breath, relishing the cool damp air. Through the trees, he could see lake sparkling in the morning sun. The setting was beautiful.

Sheriff Lane and Teal’c had already started to make their way up the path to the small house. He hurried to catch up with Sam who had stopped to wait for him. She rested her hand on his arm for a moment, offering a hopeful smile. This was a tense moment. There was no telling what would happen—if Wayne would cooperate or not.

The loud knock sounded across the yard, echoing strangely off the trees, the thick, damp air making the sound heavy and foreboding.

A rumpled looking man in a short sleeve shirt and boxers answered the door. They’d apparently dragged him out of bed.

"Wayne Nichols?" Lanes asked, his voice stern.

The man nodded, confusion filtering across his face as his eyes roamed from person to person before settling on Daniel. For the second that their eyes met, a ghost of a smile played in Wayne’s eyes, and Daniel realized that Wayne had recognized him.

The pit of fear in Daniel’s stomach grew. This man knew him.

"Mr. Nichols we have a warrant to search this house and its grounds. If you would please step aside, we can get to work and be on our way."

Wayne looked like he was about ready to protest, but shrugged, stepping back to allow them entrance. "Go ahead. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but you can look all you want. There’s not much to see," Wayne said, his voice calm and even.

"While my colleagues begin their search, can I ask you a couple of questions?" Lane asked, pulling Wayne to the side of the room as Teal’c and Sam spread out. The house was not large. From the main living room/kitchen, three rooms branched out, just like the plans indicated—a bedroom, a bathroom, and a spare room.

Daniel stayed behind, his arms crossed over his chest, listening to Lane’s conversation.

"Mr. Nichols—" Lane began, only to be interrupted by Wayne.

"Sheriff, please call me Wayne. You just remind me of my father when you say ‘Mr. Nichols’ and I’m nothing like him." Wayne’s voice, while outwardly calm, held a note of something else. Daniel wasn’t sure what it was.

"Fine," Lane agreed. "Wayne, have you known or been in contact with a Stephan Selig?"

Wayne shook his head. "Nope. Don’t know him."

"How about a Colonel Jack O’Neill? Have you had any contact with Colonel O’Neill?"

"No," Wayne said evenly.

"Where have you been over the past week?"

"Where?" Wayne shrugged. "I don’t go far, Sheriff. I usually stay right here. I make a few runs to the store, but that’s about it."

"Have you been out of the state recently?"

"No, can’t say I have."

Daniel rocked back on his heels, trying to contain his rising anger. Wayne was lying. He wanted to reach out and throttle the man, but he restrained himself.

"Would it be okay if one of my associates took a look at your car?"

Wayne shrugged. "Sure."

Lane turned to Daniel. "Daniel, why don’t you go and check the car?"

"Sure," Daniel said, stepping over to retrieve the key ring he saw hanging next to the door. At least it would give him something to do instead of listening to Wayne lie.

Moving steadily, Daniel peered in the windows, before unlocking the passenger side door and sliding inside. Opening the glove compartment, he was astonished to see how clean it was. A book wrapped with a rubber band opened to reveal fuel receipts, carefully arranged by date order.

There were two receipts dated within the week from gas stations outside Montana. One of them was in Colorado Springs, five blocks from Jack’s house.

"Got ya," Daniel muttered to himself, wrapping the book in the rubber band once again. He stepped from the car and moved around to the trunk.

Vaguely, he heard someone step out of the house, but all that he could focus on was the trunk of the gray car before him.

The key settled into the lock and popped the trunk release.

Daniel had seen this trunk before.

Last time, though, it held the body of Jack O’Neill.

Trembling, Daniel reached forward, his hands touching the items shoved to the back of the trunk. He knew what they were without pulling them out. He’d seen them last Friday night.

Jack had been wearing them.

A black leather jacket, a flannel shirt, and a pair of military issue combat boots. He reached in and pulled them out.

Daniel must have turned several shades paler because suddenly Sam was at his side, holding his elbow as his knees nearly gave way.

"Daniel?" Sam asked, her voice quivering as she steadied him. At the sound of her in-drawn breath, he knew she’d seen what he was cradling in his arms.

"He was here, Sam. Wayne’s the one," Daniel whispered, his voice sounding harsh in his ears.

Sam nodded. "I know, but the Colonel’s not here."

Daniel turned quickly, anger and surprise in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Sam looked shaken. "He’s not here. He’s not in the house. We still have to search the property, but we can’t find the Colonel. We might be too late."