12 Syllable Brick Layer

Kim's sister, Ashley, has just simply disappeared.

The stories are gory and cannot be unheard.

Are they fact or fiction these numerous accounts?

Keen to contradiction, there are lingering doubts.

With rewards aplenty, more characters come forth,

From the community and from the tribes up north.

Painting an eerie tale, there is so much left out.

Void is the coffin nail, rising the body count.

To tell the truth it seems means decapitation,

So, no one spills the beans on this reservation.

A legend born of piecemeal, adding up to this,

A poetic reveal - oh Lord what did I miss.

There are time-stamped pictures of Ashley's whereabouts,

With mizzus and misters partying at a house.

In Great Falls, I believe, from there it gets murky.

Words now meant to deceive, interviews not working.

She's seen at Big Al's looking tired and hungry.

Worn out from the miles you put on in that country.

From there she was taken to the town of St. Mary.

To partake in more crank and dust that was fairy.

Now under the control of drug-addled old men,

She might have helped post bail for someone in Polson.

Cameras of security at casino there,

Might solve the mystery if only they will share.

It has also been told that she stole the dude's truck.

As this starts to unfold, pieces come out the muck,

Like the queer occurrences near a Glacier lake,

More disappearances than randomness can take.

Here the story goes that Ashley arranged a ride,

But no one really knows if she was still alive.

Some say she was with child made with who she called then.

Picked up in secrecy to Browning the two went,

For she was his mistress - a tragic circumstance,

Because what happened next is said to be her death.

Sitting upon his lap, Ashley took her last breath.

In a run-down trailer on the road to Heart Butte,

Shot by a jealous lover known to be a brute.

A cold-blooded murder, not a thought to get caught.

So happens the killer was sleeping with the cops.

With eyewitnesses there they must have made a pact,

Open your mouth don't you dare or that will be that.

At this point one might note Big Al has turned up dead,

Found in a field remote, everything 'cept his head.

Where to put the body, these tweekers had to think.

They're used to drug-smuggling and sleeping not a wink.

With contacts in Mullan - I-90 corridor,

These guys versed in dealing with things you say no more.

A midnight trip was made, poor Ashley in the trunk.

Remedy a woodchip blade, bunch of lawless punks.

Giddy-up to Emerald Downs, trying to stay high.

Whacked-out part of a racing team their alibi.

So that's where we're at, no arrests, is Ashley dead?

A guy confessed to Big Al, but where is his head?

My heart goes out to Kim, the story cold and blunt.

The truth there somewhere dim lit on the Eastern Front.