The Vanishing of Ethan Carter Proves I’m a Terrible Detective

the vanishing of ethan carter woodsI have never wanted to be anything as much as I want to be a hardboiled detective. It’s a childhood fantasy I never grew out of, born of late nights under the covers with a flashlight and The Big Sleep. My quest to become toughen myself up saw me purging the sugar from my coffee, and using every bit of goofy slang I could.

But alas, I’m half-boiled at heart. I’m not a cynical sleuth who’s seen it all; I’m soft, and easily distracted. I should be gathering up every bit of evidence that I can, but I can’t stop wandering around and admiring all the pretty.

My love for exploration could be a positive. I mean, I want to be out there scouring the land, hunting down every piece of evidence I can find. The problem is that I’m not hunting down much of anything. On some occasions, I actively ignore evidence so that I can wander around and explore Red Creek Valley some more.

ethan carter clues

Enter? No thanks, I think I’m going to take pictures of trees.

And it’s not like this is some fluffy, unimportant case. There are murders! Lives are potentially on the line! It shouldn’t matter that the leaves near the the severed leg on the train tracks have lovely colors. There are severed leg on the train tracks! I should probably do something about that.

severed legsTo paraphrase Dashiell Hammett, the problem with putting two and two together is that you sometimes get four. If I’ve got no taste for Old Forester and can’t stay focused on a big case, maybe a hardboiled detective is something I’ll never be.

But to say goodbye is to die a little, and I’m not ready to bid this dream adieu just yet. I will find my focus, I will crack this case, and I will find a way to harden my nature-loving heart.

Just let me take a picture of this tree first.