Samantha gazed out the window of the diner as she drank her coffee. Red anarchy signs had been spray painted on the buildings across the street. The statue platform stood empty in the cool morning air. The mystery of the statue’s disappearance had reached the morning paper and the entire community was in an uproar about it.

The police had contacted her again, leaving a message on her cell phone, first thing that morning. She was the only witness to the crime and they were determined to pick her brain for any shred of evidence she might still bear. She called them and told them everything she possibly could as soon as she got the message. There was simply nothing more to share.

Debbie set her breakfast in front of her, and Samantha cut her omelet with the side of her fork and slid a bite into her mouth. She glanced down at the paper again. The front page was covered with a picture of the statue platform with no statue on top of it. The headline was in big bold letters. “Missing Founder Statue.” Underneath it read, “How did the two-thousand-pound monument disappear in the middle of the night?”

She shook her head and took another sip of coffee. The early morning sun lifted up over the square and cast a yellow glow on the cool frosty ground. Someone had done it. A statue didn’t just disappear as if by magic. Debbie returned and filled her coffee cup.

“It’s awfully strange about the statue going missing, isn’t it?” Debbie said.

“Strange doesn’t even begin to describe it. I simply can’t understand how it’s possible.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Who would even want to do it?”

“Don’t know,” Debbie said. “Most of the folks in Fate Valley have a lot of respect for history and for what Ambrose Morgan did for the town. This place wouldn’t even exist without the lake.”

“Is there anyone who doesn’t like Mr. Morgan?”

“Not that I know of. But I’ve heard whispers around town about some travelers camping on the outskirts of town.”

“Who are they?”

“I heard they’re some prankster group. The same people who turned the lion statue upside down in front of the town hall.”

“I read about that,” Samantha said, stirring cream and sugar into her coffee. “Well, if you hear anything else, let me know.”

“I sure will,” Debbie said walking away.

Samantha paid for breakfast, left a tip for Debbie, and folded the newspaper under her arm on the way out of the diner. When she arrived at the museum it was just opening, and a crowd of people were standing out front. She had hoped to have the place to herself, but it seemed that spectators were pouring into town to solve the mystery of the missing statue. She grabbed her camera and notepad from the backseat and went to stand in line with the rest of the crowd.

When the museum finally opened, everyone poured inside. The museum was much smaller than she had expected, but she realized that a small town like Fate Valley would not have a grand museum. It was run by the modest local historical society.

She followed the crowd to the front desk where the curator and tour guide stood and greeted everyone.

“Our first tour starts in five minutes,” he said, smiling at the large crowd.

Samantha got her camera ready, changing the settings for the lowlight so that she wouldn’t have to use a flash.

“All right, everyone. The tour is about to begin.”

The tour guide stepped out in front of the crowd and brought them to the first attraction on the tour.

“Welcome to the Fate Valley Historical Museum,” he said. “With recent events in town, I can see that we have a full house today. So please stay in the group. No flash photography. And if you can keep your questions until the end that will help us stay on schedule.”

He motioned to a large map of the area and the Lake of the Fates. He talked about how the hydroelectric plant provided energy for a third of the state. The lake brought tourists of all kinds to the area and had created a multimillion dollar tourist industry. The lake had more waterfronts than the entire state of California, a fact which he seemed particularly enthusiastic about. He went on to explain how the lake was extremely popular with anglers of all kinds.

The tour group moved to the next attraction, a small dinosaur. The guide went on to talk about the prehistoric evolution of Fate Valley. At the next attraction, a miniature reconstruction of an Osage native American village, the tour guide told the group about the native culture, and pointed out examples of tools and traditional clothing. When he came to the 20th century, he mentioned that a small fur trapping village had sprung up in the area before the lake flooding.

“The land was purchased by the Missouri Hydroelectric Company and the residents of the town were relocated.”

“Who were these people?” Samantha asked.

“Let’s keep our questions until the end of the tour,” the guide said with a smile.

He then went on to explain how the valley had been flooded to create the lake. First, the dam was built on the river that flowed into the valley. It took several months of flooding for the lake to form. But the engineering feats of Ambrose Morgan and his team had created a monument for the entire country. It was one of the largest reservoirs in the entire world.

At the next display, there were some antique engineering tools from the time the lake was flooded. They even had a desk that had once belonged to Ambrose Morgan.

“Ambrose Valentine Morgan was born in 1895 to a wealthy merchant family in St. Louis, Missouri. He went on to become an engineer and married Mary Ashworth Morgan. Many suspected that the marriage was more of a business arrangement than a romance, as was common in the era. They had two sons, who carried on the Morgan name and inherited Ambrose Morgan’s share of the Missouri Hydroelectric Company. Mary died of cancer in the winter of 1940, and Ambrose followed her in a car accident only six months later.”

After describing Ambrose Morgan’s family life, the tour guide went on to talk about the development of Fate Valley after his death. In the beginning, the town had been only for the hydroelectric plant workers, but Fate Valley soon grew into a booming fishing and vacation destination. He then described the evolution of Fate Valley into what it had become today. Many people were still employed by the plant, but the main economy had become the booming tourist industry.

“That concludes our tour,” he said. “Now, are there any questions?”

“You said Ambrose Morgan had two sons. Henry Morgan and Clark Morgan. Do their families still currently reside in Fate Valley?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer personal questions about the Morgan family.”

“What kind of fish are in the Lake of the Fates?”

“Mostly bass, catfish, and crappie,” the tour guide said.

Samantha raised her hand again.

“Who were the original settlers of Fate Valley?”

“They were a collection of fur trappers and small-time farmers. They ran off the first people who lived here before them and then called the place their own.”

“Where did they go after the land was flooded?” she asked.

“They relocated.”

“Where exactly?”

“I don’t have that information.”

“Where did Ambrose Morgan die?” Samantha asked.

“He was in a car accident near the Fate Valley train station. It was a collision with another vehicle. He suffered a head injury and was rushed to the nearest hospital, but he died on arrival. That concludes our tour for the day. If there are any other questions, please ask between tours.”

Samantha had taken several dozen photographs and had written down all of the information she could during the tour. The tour guide returned to his desk and was surrounded by tourists who asked a multitude of additional questions. She had so many more of her own, but she was already overwhelmed with information. She wanted to rush home and research Ambrose’s sons to see if their families still lived in the area. Maybe she could find out how they were related.

She had several more days in Fate Valley and would return to the museum if she could. For now, she felt she had what she needed. She went to the small gift shop at the side of the museum and browsed the offerings. There were plenty of postcards, T-shirts that said things like “I love bass fishing,” baseball caps with the same humorous slogans, large framed photographs of the lake, maps of the area, and stuffed fish dolls.

She took a few photos of the gift shop and then left the museum. She had more questions than answers about her own past. She was also curious about the fur trappers who had originally settled the valley. The museum director didn’t know much about them or didn’t find it important.

She left the shop and climbed into her car, feeling like her connection to Ambrose Morgan was still a complete and utter mystery.