There was nothing, especially on Earth, which could set him free—the truth least of all!
"Hello, Mr. Phillips. Promise to be quiet and we'll release you. Okay?" At Dane's sickened nod, he gestured to the others. "Let him go. And, Tom, better get that filled in. We don't want any trouble from this."
Surprise came from the grave a moment later. "Hey, Burke, there's no corpse here!"
Burke's words killed any hopes Dane had at once. "So what? Ever hear of cremation? Lots of people use a regular coffin for the ashes."
"He wasn't cremated," Dane told him. "You can check up on that." But he knew it was useless.
"Sure, Mr. Phillips. We'll do that." The tone was one reserved for humoring madmen. Burke turned, gesturing. "Better come along, Mr. Phillips. Your wife and Dr. Buehl are waiting at the hotel."
The gate was open now, but there was no sign of a watchman; if one worked here, Sylvia's money would have taken care of that, of course. Dane went along quietly, sitting in the rubble of his hopes while the big car purred through the morning and on down
A newspaperman is hounded from his jobs because he keeps trying to report aliens who can't be killed--they heal, even from death. And now the authorities want to institutionalize him.
A pretty good little chase story.
Nice story. A man trying to uncover a mystery, and warn everyone. They think he is crazy, he doubts his own sanity, and at the end he discovers a shocking truth about himself. Sometimes what you look is closer than you think.