Stranded at Romson's Lodge

by J. L. Callison

  Discreet inquiries of Jed’s friends and classmates had not brought up any hints of drug involvement nor of any sort of illegal activity on Jed’s part, but he would not be the first to hide something of the sort. Most criminals talked their way into jail, or someone they knew did it for them. Sooner or later, it came out if those in law enforcement were listening.

  Chief Washington permitted her to travel to Minnesota, even though it was out-of-state and out of her jurisdiction. She was to liaise with the local authorities and possibly assist with their surveillance. Nothing about her travel and participation fitted normal protocol, but Chief Washington was as anxious to find the missing teenagers as was Detective Summers. He still met James Romson at least twice a week at Kiwanis and at other civic functions, besides speaking on the phone at least once a week. He hated to look James in the eye and shake his head. Something had to show up sooner or later.

  Detective Summers looked at her watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Over four hours of driving remained, and driving was not something she enjoyed. She wanted to be there, not drive there. She was tempted to turn on her lights and go faster. And she could probably get away with it. After all, police officers generally gave other officers a little leeway, and with the lights flashing it would look official. But she knew it wasn’t right, and with her cruise control on she seemed to creep along with everyone else. Sometimes, ethics and integrity just got in the way.

  CHAPTER 47

  James and Mary walked into Pastor Shepherd’s office and sat down. They had come to the conclusion they needed help. As often happens following a tragedy in a family, their relationship had become strained, with tension building to the point they had begun taking their frustrations out on each other. James struggled with sleeplessness as the loss of Jed brought back painful memories of the friends he had lost in Vietnam. Mary recognized James’s sense of loss but felt he didn’t care about her own loss of her son. Both knew their feelings were irrational but didn’t know how to handle matters.

  Pastor Shepherd spoke with them about the stages of grief and in particular how theirs was so much different than in the case of death. They had no closure, and the constant reminders of Jed’s absence were compounded by the hope he might be found alive. Pastor Shepherd’s experience as a chaplain in the Army and extensive dealings with PTSD were crucial for dealing with James. After talking and praying together, James and Mary walked from his office holding hands, determined to weather the storm together. It would not be easy—losing a son never is—but they, with God’s help, were determined to make it.

  CHAPTER 48

  Charles Sitton threaded a worm on a hook for Jimmy. He had taken a liking to the boy and had become somewhat of a father figure in the last couple of months. Charles always wanted a son, but after Elizabeth was born he and Collette were unable to have any other children. Jimmy did a lot to fill the void in his life, at least during the day. Nighttime was still a struggle, and as much as he hated them, he found he still needed the sleeping pills at night.

  Jimmy saw his bobber bounce and jerked the line. When he got it in, of course, there was nothing on it.

  “You’ve gotta be a little more patient there, young’un. Wait till he takes it under, then you just give it a little twitch. You start to reel it in if it stays underwater.”

  “I know. I just got excited and forgot.”

  “That’s all right. It’s how you learn.”

  Charles untangled some of the moss and weeds from the hook and bobber. Jimmy still had to learn how to get the line out of the water without going through the weeds.

  “Looks like you still have enough worm. Give it another try.”

  Jimmy cast the line back out but got it tangled in the weeds again. Charles chuckled. “Bring it back in and give it another try. Remember this time to let the button go when the rod is halfway there.”

  Charles shook his head in frustration. To think such a good kid as Jimmy could be fourteen years old and not have had someone to teach him. He didn’t know what to think about someone like Jimmy’s father, who had messed things up so badly. Jimmy needed Charles as much as Charles needed someone like Jimmy.

  Next week they were going to a firing range so Charles could teach Jimmy how to properly shoot and care for a weapon. He thought they would start out with a .22 and work their way up. One thing was for sure, Jimmy was not a sissy.

  CHAPTER 49

  Beechnuts began to fall, along with the leaves. Though the beechnut was small and somewhat difficult to process, it was one of the most important food sources in the wild. Jed knew beechnuts had a high caloric value, and, most importantly to him and Lizzie, they had a high fat content. Getting enough fat in their diet was difficult. Turkeys, deer, and bears would be feasting on the nuts.

  Jed went to gather beechnuts with Lizzie because of the bears. The old sow bear seemed to have grown accustomed to their presence and had never threatened, but Jed was aware the black bear was more likely to attack a human than even the feared grizzly bear.

  Lizzie looked puzzled when Jed walked out of the lodge before sunup with two sheets in his arms. He put them into the baskets she held and then took the baskets from her.

  “What are those for?”

  He grinned at her. “Magic sheets! They gather beechnuts.”

  “What are you talking about? How can you pick up nuts with sheets?”

  “Magic,” is all he would say.

  He led the way toward a group of beech trees. The light grew brighter as they walked, with the sun rising just before they arrived at the beech grove. Two deer, a doe and a fawn, bolted from the trees as they approached.

  “That’s sign enough of beechnuts. The deer love them.”

  Jed set the baskets next to one of the tree trunks and started rustling in the leaves with his foot. When he found one of the odd-shaped spinney husks containing the nuts, or masts, as they are sometimes called, he picked it up and showed it to Lizzie.

  “Here’s why we have the magic sheets, Lizzie. See how small this is?”

  The three-sectioned hull was only slightly more than an inch long, and not quite as wide.

  “These get lost in the leaves, and trying to find enough to bother with would take days. We don’t have enough time for that.”

  Jed broke open the husk and removed the three small nuts, one from each pod. The nuts were only a little over half an inch long, and were triangular in shape. Each nut had a hull surrounding it.

  “These things are tiny, and it takes some work to get at them, but we are going to need their fat for the winter. Deer, birds, other animals—bears in particular—use these to fatten for the cold.”

  He slit the side of the hull with his thumbnail and removed the nut. Lizzie took it when he held it out to her and gingerly nibbled at the nut, hoping it tasted good.

  “This is not bad. A little bit strong, but I think I like it.”

  “Good. Let’s pick what nuts we can reach on the tree first—it’s a lot easier than picking them up off the ground—then we will use the magic sheets.”

  “You keep calling them that. How do they work?”

  “Let’s pick what we can first, and then I’ll show you.”

  With a basket each, they started working their way around the first tree, plucking the nuts from the tree. They picked steadily, working their way around all the trees in a short amount of time. Lizzie enjoyed the chance to spend the time out-of-doors with Jed and to participate in collecting some of the food supplies instead of being cooped up in the lodge. She didn’t mind the housekeeping, but being out with Jed was a real treat.

  When all they could reach had been picked, Jed set his basket down by the tree trunk and walked to the tree where he had left the “magic” sheets. Grabbing the sheets, he carried them back to Lizzie. He spread one of the sheets on the ground and said, “Magic Sheet, do your magic!” Lizzie looked at him strangely, like he had flipped.

  “Young lady, every magician needs a beautiful assistant.
Will you be mine?”

  Jed’s comment gathered a giggle and a faint blush from Lizzie. Jed had never commented on whether he thought she was pretty or not. She knew he was just joking but hoped there was really something behind his comment.

  “I should be most honored, most noble magician,” she said with a curtsy.

  “Really, I forgot to bring along a rake, so this is going to be a little more difficult. We’ll bring one next time. What we need to do is gather all the leaves and stuff from the ground onto the sheet.” Jed started scraping the leaves with his feet, kicking them toward the waiting cloth. “Try to get as much of the stuff as you can. I know we will miss some, but I think it would be better to get what we can while we are here rather than wait until next time.” Together they swept up a large pile of leaves.

  “Now grasp your corners of the sheet and pick it up.” Jed started shaking the sheet up and down gently, moving the corners in toward each other and then spreading them back out, causing the sheet to sag in the center, and then rise back up. Some of the top leaves flew off, but he told Lizzie not to worry about them. After a few minutes they laid the sheet on the ground, and Jed carefully swept the leaves from the top of the pile, exposing the beechnuts that had settled to the bottom.

  “See how great the magic sheet is?” laughed Jed. Lizzie just shook her head and moved her basket by the sheet. “Now, put your end of the sheet into the basket.” Jed lifted his end of the sheet and poured a good portion of the gathered beechnuts into the container.

  CHAPTER 50

  The old she-bear was cranky. A long thorn was stuck in her foot between two pads and was infected. Because of its location between the pads, she was not able to get it out either with her teeth or by licking it.

  Her nearly-grown cub was frisky in the chilly morning air and tried to play with her when he awoke. She swatted him hard enough to send him rolling, when she would normally have just brushed him aside or perhaps woofed at him in warning.

  The blueberries were now gone, but the old bear knew the beechnuts were dropping. She limped through the underbrush toward the largest copse of beech trees in her territory. Her cub, chastened, followed behind but wandered off a little ways, following the fragrance of honey. The bee tree Jed and Lizzie robbed was empty, as Jed had thought it would be, but the cub climbed the trunk to the opening. He snuffed loudly and reached his long tongue into the hole to lick at the remnants stuck to the sides of the hollow tree. Finally, frustrated at his inability to reach any more honey, he backed down the tree trunk and wandered along the path until he found his mother’s scent.

  Jed and Lizzie were on their way back to the cabin, their baskets full. The “magic sheets” had been stashed in the crotch of a tree where they wouldn’t blow away. Jed didn’t want to carry them with the full baskets of nuts and then bring them back. Because they had taken the time to pick the low-hanging beechnuts, they had worked their way to the far side of the grove. Lizzie walked on while he stashed the sheets and was about a hundred yards ahead. The bear sow had crossed her path a few minutes before and was downwind of Lizzie. The bear stood on her hind legs, sniffing the breeze, troubled by human presence. Normally, she would not have been concerned, but she was cranky, and the smell irritated her. Bears have good eyesight, but since bushes were in the way, Lizzie couldn’t be seen. She settled back down onto her sore foot and resumed rummaging in the leaves for nuts.

  The cub, however, was upwind and didn’t smell Lizzie ahead of him. It is hard to say who was more startled when the cub rounded a clump of brush and nearly ran into Lizzie. She screamed and dropped her basket as the cub gave a startled woof and ran away.

  The old sow bear, already on edge, heard her cub’s cry and charged. Since a black bear can run as fast as thirty-five miles an hour for a short distance, Lizzie had no chance of outrunning her. They also climb trees, so she knew climbing was not an option. She dropped to the ground and lay there motionless and tried hard not to cry or show any signs of life but prayed desperately under her breath.

  CHAPTER 51

  Detective Summers lay in deep weeds inside a tree line near the Minnesota lake she had come to investigate. Sheriff Jake Larson had been more than willing to have her come along on this surveillance stakeout.

  “TV never shows this side of law enforcement does it, Jake?”

  The sheriff snorted and shook his head.

  Two weeks before, on the promise of a lighter sentence, an informant told one of the deputies a drug shipment was due at this lake. Tonight was the last of the possible nights the informant said the plane might come. The sheriff and ten of his men, plus Detective Summers, had hidden in the weeds each night for the last six nights, fruitlessly. Expecting a lookout to be posted, they infiltrated the area, walking over two miles through some rough, brushy areas. It was now two o’clock in the morning, and they had been in position since before nine the previous evening. Under normal circumstances, the sheriff would have posted a single officer to observe and then would have made plans to make the raid based on his surveillance. But due to the infrequent and sporadic visits by the plane, he didn’t feel he could waste the opportunity to make the arrests now.

  A few minutes after two in the morning, the sound of a small vehicle could be heard driving down the dirt access road leading to the field a hundred yards beyond the lake and their position. Everyone perked up but remained in place. Each person on the surveillance team heard the sheriff’s quiet “Hold in place; maintain silence! Everybody check in” through their digital radio earpieces.

  Each of the ten deputies clicked his microphone button once in turn, showing all were awake and alert.

  It was a full five minutes before a Toyota Land Cruiser eased into the clearing, its way lighted by headlights heavily taped over, leaving only a small slit for light. The driver drove past the lake to the field before turning around and returning to the lake and parking the SUV in a small cleared spot in the underbrush. Sheriff Larson noted the back lights and brake lights were disconnected, so no light was visible from the rear either.

  Sheriff Larson broke his own rule by leaning over to Detective Summers and whispering, “Stupid fool. If he had driven back here with his lights on, he would have had deniability for being here. They outsmart themselves most of the time.” He whispered into his microphone, “Hold in place.”

  The driver turned off his engine and sat with his windows rolled down for a few minutes, listening to the night. When he heard nothing suspicious, he got out of the truck and looked carefully around. Detective Summers could clearly hear him speak into a walkie-talkie. “In position. Starting a walk around now. Stand by.”

  Each of the deputies could see the driver through his night vision goggles, or NVGs, as the driver walked along the brush line, looking into the brush to see if anyone was there. Fortunately, they were all far enough away and had camouflaged themselves. In the dark, they were invisible to him unless they moved. The eye picks up movement readily, but motionless they were secure. Fortunately, the lookout did not have infrared goggles or NVGs. When he was halfway around the lake, one of the deputies heard the lookout’s walkie-talkie beep, and the message “What’s the word? The plane is half an hour out.”

  “I need about fifteen minutes to finish going around the lake unless you want me to quit checking.”

  “No! You have to check. You haven’t done anything illegal, so if you are stopped, there isn’t anything they can do to you. Always follow procedure!”

  “Okay. Tell the pilot to delay a little so I can finish and get the lights set up. I need about forty minutes.”

  “K. Hurry all you can. We can’t have him circling and getting people suspicious.”

  When certain the lookout was well out of hearing, the deputy responsible for surveilling the far side of the lake whispered into his radio what he heard. Everyone perked up, excited, but remained in position.

  The lookout moved at a trot around the rest of the tree line, looking carefully but hurrying. He picked
up the walkie-talkie. “All clear. Send the truck. Stand by on the plane.” From his car, he pulled a surveyor’s tripod and ran to set it up near the water’s edge. He installed a small strobe light on the top and turned it on.

  “Light’s lit,” he said on the radio. “Send him in.”

  A rental truck with all lights extinguished crept down the lane until it reached the SUV. The driver jumped out of the truck, walked to ten feet from the water, and started screwing a guy wire anchor post into the ground. When he was done, he carefully stepped off twenty paces and screwed another in place.

  Detective Summers could hear an airplane approaching. From where she lay in the brush, she couldn’t see it, tempting as it was to step to the edge of the brush and look. The driver of the rental truck eased the truck back toward the water, guided by one of two men who had ridden in the truck.

  CHAPTER 52

  James Romson sat in his office with papers spread across his desk but without the focus he needed to address the issues. He picked up his phone and dialed Chief Washington’s private line. “Jeff, James here. I’ve been unable to reach Detective Summers for several days now. Do you know what’s going on? Any progress?”

  As much as he wanted to, Chief Washington could not say where Detective Summers was, nor could he say what she was doing. He thought quickly. “Hi, James. Detective Summers is out of town on an investigation for me. I talked with her last evening, and she has nothing to report.” He knew what he said, while true, was not totally honest, but it was the best he could do. “I’m really sorry, James. You know that. I can assure you we are doing all we possibly can do. ‘I don’t know’ still means I don’t know.”