Chapter 1 - “I’m on my way”
“The Last Words Spoken Echo in the Dark Forever”
~ Randy Hubbard

The calm rain I was watching from my patio when I started this book is nothing compared to what hit us in 1997. The greater Cincinnati area was hammered by torrential rainstorms that spring. I remember this because my childhood home, which my parents still live in, is less than one hundred feet from the Great Miami River. They had lived in that home for more than forty years, and it had never reached the house before. That March we spent about twenty-four to forty-eight hours moving furniture and watching the water rush through the basement as if the river had decided to take anything in its path. The Ohio River had risen to a record 64.7 feet and had taken over the streets of downtown Cincinnati. Many small towns along the river from Manchester, Ohio, to Louisville, Kentucky, were destroyed like the mythical city of Atlantis.
Maybe the raging river was foreshadowing the cold secrets it would carry later that year.
I had moved away from my hometown of Fairfield, Ohio, about five years earlier to build a life with my wonderful new bride in Kansas City, Kansas. We loved our time in Kansas, but we knew after our first daughter was born in 1996 it was time to return home to be with family. We found a perfect house for us in Burlington, Kentucky. We were back. Back to see the Cincinnati Reds flounder to a 76–86 third-place finish. Back to watch the Bengals miss the playoffs for the seventh year in a row. It was home, and we were so happy to be back.
That year, I started a new teaching position at Harrison High School. I was always proud of being innovative in my classroom. Doing something different to make the classroom more enjoyable for my students was always something I strived to accomplish. Heck, I even talked my principal into letting me take over an old industrial arts room and make a zoo. I guess you could call me the Tiger King of small rodents, reptiles, and birds. As I taught my biology class about the circulatory system and blood, using the relatively new idea of weaving in forensic science, I did not realize an event that would occur on December 10, 1997, would rejuvenate my passion for teaching and helping others after twenty years. It would be the catalyst to open my mind to the intrigue of true crime, new friendships, and professional connections, and, most of all, introduce me to a young woman I would never get to meet in person.
As Forrest Gump said, the 1990s “was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” It was the era of boy bands and the Harry Potter series. Y2K signified the world’s end in the year 2000, and music icon Prince wanted us all to “party like it was 1999.” On the world stage, the Oklahoma City bomber, Timothy McVeigh, got his well-deserved sentence of death from the courts, while in that same month, the world lost a true princess with the awful death of Princess Diana. Here in the Cincinnati area, towns were starting to put the pieces back together from the damage caused by the rising rivers earlier that year. The city was actively trying to improve its highways. The city council even talked about building a light rail to move people along the I-71 corridor to improve business ventures. Now we know how government projects work. It is twenty-five years later, there is no light rail, and the I-71/I-75 roadwork seems to never end.
Despite the endless construction zone of doom, Cincinnati and the surrounding areas were really progressing back then to make this part of Ohio a place that would attract more people. Things seemed to be going well, but like all cities, big and small, there are always underlying stories of tragedy. On December 5, 1997, the Cincinnati Police Department was rocked by the sudden loss of Officers Ronald Jeter and Daniel Pope. An individual they were serving a warrant to ambushed the two highly decorated officers, killing them both with gunshot wounds to the head. This story hit hard on the emotions of this town that seemed to be changing its reputation as a rough place to be.
These were the stories crowding the front page of the newspapers, but what about those stories that were hidden in the small box on page one or in section B of the paper? The ones that didn’t seem to draw the same attention. One of those was that of a twenty-three-year-old young woman who had gone missing. On the front page of the Cincinnati Post on December 19, 1997, a small story found on the right side of the page showed a small picture of Alana “Laney” Gwinner with her beautiful smile. At the time, Laney had been missing for nine days with no leads or ideas about where she or her car could be. Her friends and family had been searching every place they could possibly think Laney might go. Hundreds of phone calls to anyone that may have a connection with her had been made. There was still no sign of her.
I noticed that the article wasn’t only about Laney. The article discussed other missing women, whom I later learned were considered deceased because of the time that had gone by since their disappearances. I felt a bit upset that the attention had been taken off Laney. I know that the author of that article was in no way trying to minimize Laney’s story, and I’m not sure why it upset me like it did, other than the fact that her story had now seemed to become personal for Evan and me. Don’t get me wrong, those other stories were extremely tragic in their own right and definitely deserved to have attention drawn to them. At the time, though, Laney was still out there, and finding her was at the top of the list for her family, friends, coworkers, and those who may have seen her that night.
December 9, 1997, was a normal day for Laney: get up early, prepare for work, and start the day like any other. According to her boss, she was a very conscientious, hard-working employee. Laney was always on time and ready to work. He said she would call before leaving home if she thought she was going to be late, even by one minute. This gained her great respect from her boss. These types of characteristics are often rewarded with a promotion, which is exactly what happened for Laney. Things were going well. Her life wasn’t always easy, but for the moment, it appeared as if the stars were aligning for her, at least in her professional life.
Like most of us, distractions occur during the workday. Laney was no different. The morning of December 8th started out with a simple email to a friend, Angie, saying, “What’s up?”
The work day continued, and Laney and Angie corresponded back and forth. Laney ended with telling Angie about having a confrontation with a female at her current boyfriend’s house over the weekend. Angie responded about her day and asked more about the weekend events. Laney expressed her need to study for her accounting exam coming up the next day. She ended the conversation with, “Give me a call later and I will fill you in on his reaction to the whole situation and try to get your input on it. I think Shad, Joy, and I are going to BW3’s tomorrow after my exam, wanna go? Call me.”
It should be noted that in 1997, cell phones were not the extra appendage most people have today. If you had a cell phone, it was considered to be a luxury or it was specifically used for work.
That being said, the conversation ended at the end of the workday, and both went on with their separate lives that evening. Tuesday morning, December 9th, began with a continuation of the conversation from the day before.
Laney wrote, “Nothing is up with Shad… He was out with Eric in Chicago all weekend. Eric said they had a blast, it was just like old times. We are just going to BW3’s to chow down on some wings!!! Maybe shoot a little pool. Sound Good? I have my exam tonight so I don’t know what time we are going.”
Unfortunately, Angie’s son was sick, and she did not want to leave him with anyone, so she had to explain to Laney that she most likely would not make it that evening. That would be the last exchange Angie would have with her beloved friend.
Laney’s day continued like normal. She knew that, at the end of the day, she would have to go take her exam. Like almost all students, she wasn’t that excited to take that test. Did she study enough? Was she prepared, or was this going to turn out badly? Her boss remembered that she left a little early that day to put in a last few minutes studying before the exam.
Laney had made plans with friends to meet at BW3’s near Forest Fair Mall later that evening to celebrate the end of classes. The idea was to meet there to have some dinner and then venture somewhere to play some pool. Laney was an avid pool player. Some might even say she was a bit of a sandbagger. She would act like she didn’t know how to play to lure someone, particularly a man, into a false sense of security, then proceed to kick their ass and take their money. This could be a good thing or it could be a bad thing, depending on who she was playing and how much she had taken from them. From stories I have heard about Laney, she wouldn’t back down from anyone. She may have been small, but she was tough. Playing pool against her could start a ruckus.
During the day leading up to dinner, unfortunately, some of her friends contacted her to let her know that they would not be able to attend the get together. That left only Laney and her friend Shad to go out that evening. They arrived at Bdub’s, as they called it, between eight and eight thirty p.m. They had a few drinks and downed those wings she liked so much. Between nine and nine thirty p.m., they arrived at the Gilmore Bowling Lanes in Fairfield, Ohio. It is not clear who decided to go there, because according to most people who knew her, she had never been to Gilmore Lanes until that night. How did they know that they could play pool there? Was it well known that Gilmore had pool tables? I guess we will never know the answer to that question, but that is where they ended up that night.
Gilmore Bowling Lanes has been in Fairfield for quite a long time. It actually used to go by the name of Coleman Lanes when I was a kid, but more than forty years later, it still looks almost exactly the same with only the name change. It’s kind of funny how some places seem to get trapped in time. Like almost all bowling alleys, there are lanes in the back of the building, and out front there is a bar. Most of the bars I’ve seen in these alleys are not places you would take a date to dinner, but they do have alcohol, which draws all kinds of people. Most of those bars draw the bowlers in there in between frames, and then a few may stop in after bowling to have a nightcap before heading home.
This night seemed different for some reason.
The bar that night was a hopping place with a combination of bowlers, local car salesmen, pool players, and a group of friends partaking in a weeknight drinking party, just for the hell of it. This tiny bar was kind of crowded, especially for a Tuesday night. According to some of the workers, who still work there today, the bar usually closed around eleven thirty p.m. on a weeknight, but that night they stayed open because there were many people still having a good time and, well, that meant they were making a little extra cash. The question is why did everyone stay late that evening? Could it have been that beautiful, twenty-three-year-old woman with the jeans that fit just right and the brilliant smile that lit up a room? Laney was only one of two or possibly three women in that bar that night. There may have been an older woman who was a bit of a regular and an eighteen-year-old who was hiding in the corner drinking beer with her friends hoping that the cops didn’t come in and catch her. The men were from different backgrounds and ages, and having a good time, but all must have noticed that beautiful girl playing pool. One person took a serious interest in the “hot girl” in the room.
As the night began to wind down, Laney had to go to the restroom, considering she’d had quite a few drinks while celebrating with Shad. Someone had stated they saw her stop by the payphone by the front door to make a call. It was later established that she did make a call to her current boyfriend to let him know, “I’m on my way.” There may have been a few other calls made before she made it to the restroom, but she eventually made it there and returned to the bar to quickly say her goodbyes.
She slipped out the door without most people, including Shad, seeing her leave.
Somewhere between twelve thirty a.m. and one a.m., Alana “Laney” Gwinner, now trapped in time, slipped out into the dark, cold December night.

Chapter 1 - “I’m on my way”
“The Last Words Spoken Echo in the Dark Forever”
~ Randy Hubbard

The calm rain I was watching from my patio when I started this book is nothing compared to what hit us in 1997. The greater Cincinnati area was hammered by torrential rainstorms that spring. I remember this because my childhood home, which my parents still live in, is less than one hundred feet from the Great Miami River. They had lived in that home for more than forty years, and it had never reached the house before. That March we spent about twenty-four to forty-eight hours moving furniture and watching the water rush through the basement as if the river had decided to take anything in its path. The Ohio River had risen to a record 64.7 feet and had taken over the streets of downtown Cincinnati. Many small towns along the river from Manchester, Ohio, to Louisville, Kentucky, were destroyed like the mythical city of Atlantis.
Maybe the raging river was foreshadowing the cold secrets it would carry later that year.
I had moved away from my hometown of Fairfield, Ohio, about five years earlier to build a life with my wonderful new bride in Kansas City, Kansas. We loved our time in Kansas, but we knew after our first daughter was born in 1996 it was time to return home to be with family. We found a perfect house for us in Burlington, Kentucky. We were back. Back to see the Cincinnati Reds flounder to a 76–86 third-place finish. Back to watch the Bengals miss the playoffs for the seventh year in a row. It was home, and we were so happy to be back.
That year, I started a new teaching position at Harrison High School. I was always proud of being innovative in my classroom. Doing something different to make the classroom more enjoyable for my students was always something I strived to accomplish. Heck, I even talked my principal into letting me take over an old industrial arts room and make a zoo. I guess you could call me the Tiger King of small rodents, reptiles, and birds. As I taught my biology class about the circulatory system and blood, using the relatively new idea of weaving in forensic science, I did not realize an event that would occur on December 10, 1997, would rejuvenate my passion for teaching and helping others after twenty years. It would be the catalyst to open my mind to the intrigue of true crime, new friendships, and professional connections, and, most of all, introduce me to a young woman I would never get to meet in person.
As Forrest Gump said, the 1990s “was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.” It was the era of boy bands and the Harry Potter series. Y2K signified the world’s end in the year 2000, and music icon Prince wanted us all to “party like it was 1999.” On the world stage, the Oklahoma City bomber, Timothy McVeigh, got his well-deserved sentence of death from the courts, while in that same month, the world lost a true princess with the awful death of Princess Diana. Here in the Cincinnati area, towns were starting to put the pieces back together from the damage caused by the rising rivers earlier that year. The city was actively trying to improve its highways. The city council even talked about building a light rail to move people along the I-71 corridor to improve business ventures. Now we know how government projects work. It is twenty-five years later, there is no light rail, and the I-71/I-75 roadwork seems to never end.
Despite the endless construction zone of doom, Cincinnati and the surrounding areas were really progressing back then to make this part of Ohio a place that would attract more people. Things seemed to be going well, but like all cities, big and small, there are always underlying stories of tragedy. On December 5, 1997, the Cincinnati Police Department was rocked by the sudden loss of Officers Ronald Jeter and Daniel Pope. An individual they were serving a warrant to ambushed the two highly decorated officers, killing them both with gunshot wounds to the head. This story hit hard on the emotions of this town that seemed to be changing its reputation as a rough place to be.
These were the stories crowding the front page of the newspapers, but what about those stories that were hidden in the small box on page one or in section B of the paper? The ones that didn’t seem to draw the same attention. One of those was that of a twenty-three-year-old young woman who had gone missing. On the front page of the Cincinnati Post on December 19, 1997, a small story found on the right side of the page showed a small picture of Alana “Laney” Gwinner with her beautiful smile. At the time, Laney had been missing for nine days with no leads or ideas about where she or her car could be. Her friends and family had been searching every place they could possibly think Laney might go. Hundreds of phone calls to anyone that may have a connection with her had been made. There was still no sign of her.
I noticed that the article wasn’t only about Laney. The article discussed other missing women, whom I later learned were considered deceased because of the time that had gone by since their disappearances. I felt a bit upset that the attention had been taken off Laney. I know that the author of that article was in no way trying to minimize Laney’s story, and I’m not sure why it upset me like it did, other than the fact that her story had now seemed to become personal for Evan and me. Don’t get me wrong, those other stories were extremely tragic in their own right and definitely deserved to have attention drawn to them. At the time, though, Laney was still out there, and finding her was at the top of the list for her family, friends, coworkers, and those who may have seen her that night.
December 9, 1997, was a normal day for Laney: get up early, prepare for work, and start the day like any other. According to her boss, she was a very conscientious, hard-working employee. Laney was always on time and ready to work. He said she would call before leaving home if she thought she was going to be late, even by one minute. This gained her great respect from her boss. These types of characteristics are often rewarded with a promotion, which is exactly what happened for Laney. Things were going well. Her life wasn’t always easy, but for the moment, it appeared as if the stars were aligning for her, at least in her professional life.
Like most of us, distractions occur during the workday. Laney was no different. The morning of December 8th started out with a simple email to a friend, Angie, saying, “What’s up?”
The work day continued, and Laney and Angie corresponded back and forth. Laney ended with telling Angie about having a confrontation with a female at her current boyfriend’s house over the weekend. Angie responded about her day and asked more about the weekend events. Laney expressed her need to study for her accounting exam coming up the next day. She ended the conversation with, “Give me a call later and I will fill you in on his reaction to the whole situation and try to get your input on it. I think Shad, Joy, and I are going to BW3’s tomorrow after my exam, wanna go? Call me.”
It should be noted that in 1997, cell phones were not the extra appendage most people have today. If you had a cell phone, it was considered to be a luxury or it was specifically used for work.
That being said, the conversation ended at the end of the workday, and both went on with their separate lives that evening. Tuesday morning, December 9th, began with a continuation of the conversation from the day before.
Laney wrote, “Nothing is up with Shad… He was out with Eric in Chicago all weekend. Eric said they had a blast, it was just like old times. We are just going to BW3’s to chow down on some wings!!! Maybe shoot a little pool. Sound Good? I have my exam tonight so I don’t know what time we are going.”
Unfortunately, Angie’s son was sick, and she did not want to leave him with anyone, so she had to explain to Laney that she most likely would not make it that evening. That would be the last exchange Angie would have with her beloved friend.
Laney’s day continued like normal. She knew that, at the end of the day, she would have to go take her exam. Like almost all students, she wasn’t that excited to take that test. Did she study enough? Was she prepared, or was this going to turn out badly? Her boss remembered that she left a little early that day to put in a last few minutes studying before the exam.
Laney had made plans with friends to meet at BW3’s near Forest Fair Mall later that evening to celebrate the end of classes. The idea was to meet there to have some dinner and then venture somewhere to play some pool. Laney was an avid pool player. Some might even say she was a bit of a sandbagger. She would act like she didn’t know how to play to lure someone, particularly a man, into a false sense of security, then proceed to kick their ass and take their money. This could be a good thing or it could be a bad thing, depending on who she was playing and how much she had taken from them. From stories I have heard about Laney, she wouldn’t back down from anyone. She may have been small, but she was tough. Playing pool against her could start a ruckus.
During the day leading up to dinner, unfortunately, some of her friends contacted her to let her know that they would not be able to attend the get together. That left only Laney and her friend Shad to go out that evening. They arrived at Bdub’s, as they called it, between eight and eight thirty p.m. They had a few drinks and downed those wings she liked so much. Between nine and nine thirty p.m., they arrived at the Gilmore Bowling Lanes in Fairfield, Ohio. It is not clear who decided to go there, because according to most people who knew her, she had never been to Gilmore Lanes until that night. How did they know that they could play pool there? Was it well known that Gilmore had pool tables? I guess we will never know the answer to that question, but that is where they ended up that night.
Gilmore Bowling Lanes has been in Fairfield for quite a long time. It actually used to go by the name of Coleman Lanes when I was a kid, but more than forty years later, it still looks almost exactly the same with only the name change. It’s kind of funny how some places seem to get trapped in time. Like almost all bowling alleys, there are lanes in the back of the building, and out front there is a bar. Most of the bars I’ve seen in these alleys are not places you would take a date to dinner, but they do have alcohol, which draws all kinds of people. Most of those bars draw the bowlers in there in between frames, and then a few may stop in after bowling to have a nightcap before heading home.
This night seemed different for some reason.
The bar that night was a hopping place with a combination of bowlers, local car salesmen, pool players, and a group of friends partaking in a weeknight drinking party, just for the hell of it. This tiny bar was kind of crowded, especially for a Tuesday night. According to some of the workers, who still work there today, the bar usually closed around eleven thirty p.m. on a weeknight, but that night they stayed open because there were many people still having a good time and, well, that meant they were making a little extra cash. The question is why did everyone stay late that evening? Could it have been that beautiful, twenty-three-year-old woman with the jeans that fit just right and the brilliant smile that lit up a room? Laney was only one of two or possibly three women in that bar that night. There may have been an older woman who was a bit of a regular and an eighteen-year-old who was hiding in the corner drinking beer with her friends hoping that the cops didn’t come in and catch her. The men were from different backgrounds and ages, and having a good time, but all must have noticed that beautiful girl playing pool. One person took a serious interest in the “hot girl” in the room.
As the night began to wind down, Laney had to go to the restroom, considering she’d had quite a few drinks while celebrating with Shad. Someone had stated they saw her stop by the payphone by the front door to make a call. It was later established that she did make a call to her current boyfriend to let him know, “I’m on my way.” There may have been a few other calls made before she made it to the restroom, but she eventually made it there and returned to the bar to quickly say her goodbyes.
She slipped out the door without most people, including Shad, seeing her leave.
Somewhere between twelve thirty a.m. and one a.m., Alana “Laney” Gwinner, now trapped in time, slipped out into the dark, cold December night.