by Marta Acosta
“Me, too,” he said and put his fingertips gently on my arm.
I stayed where I was even though I wanted to jump away and he said, “Excellent job.”
When Georgie came to replace him, she said, “What’s going on with you and Ben? I saw him touching you.”
“Ava convinced me to use exposure therapy to get over my revulsion of soft touches. The little one, Helen, seems to have a diabolical sense of what will make me jump away.”
“Okay. What’s going on with you and Oliver?”
“He’s either a business associate or a friend.”
“I think he wants to be your naked friend.”
“He doesn’t act like it and I’m not going to make a move and humiliate myself.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I have good reason to be. Besides, there’s a big Claire-sized obstacle blocking my view of the situation,” I said. “My immediate priority is not slapping the next person who asks if I’ll officiate a dog wedding.”
Georgie laughed and said, “Your little pal Zoe was here telling people ‘canine marital services’ will be offered at your center soon.”
“She has an entrepreneurial spirit.”
When 3:00 struck, I slipped away through the swirling, laughing, shouting, jostling hoard. I missed Kenzie, who would have cut others off and herded me as deftly as a Border collie. I wanted to go to the Everything-On-A-Stick booth, but I’d have to walk past the Coyote Run Artists Collective stall where Claire supervised children painting at easels.
I wished I could look at her without being looked at, and I didn’t want to talk to her because I was too bewildered.
I settled for a fruit smoothie and wandered to the alley behind the Grange Hall. I leaned against a brick wall and listened to the voices and music, mostly party-time favorites. I finished the smoothie and tossed the cup in a trash can. I heard a distorted announcement followed by a huge shout-up from the crowd, and I knew what would come next and waited immobile as the first notes of the next song played.
“But don’t tell my heart...” And I was still in Coyote Run and it was still Bonanza Day, and I was ten and people openly stared at my twitches and jerks, my flapping arms, my uniform of faded cotton elastic-waist pants and cotton shirts, my palpable misery.
I’d cringed and hidden behind my mother as we’d walked through the throng to the expanse of the high school playground where a huge dance floor had been set up with sheets of plywood that thumped and reverberated with the pounding of cowboy boots, the sound drawing me closer, and when this song came on, I’d said, “I know this one!” and I grabbed Raymond by the hand and pulled him among the lines of people, and I opened my mouth and sang while my brother and I followed the dance steps.
I saw Raymond as he was then: a beautiful child with curly auburn hair, eyes sparkling with mischief, a laughing mouth, and movements so fluid people began watching us, and then they listened to my voice with surprise.
And I sang and danced with my brother under the sunshine that hid all the worlds beyond and for a moment I was happy. We were happy.
I wept then. I wept for my brother and sister, whose childhoods had been subsumed by my voracious needs. I wept for my mother, who wore herself out trying to keep us together, and for Dawg, who laughed and joked despite his demons. I wept for Sherry Rae, who loved to take risks and live fast, and for Rafe and his warm smile, and I wept because I wanted their lives, all lives, to mean something.
I wiped away my tears, ready to return to the festivities, and as I left the alley, I ran smack into Abel Myklebust.
“Maddie, I’ve been looking for you.” His hair was the same color as mine was now, his skin the same shade, and the brown eyes as dark as mine. He had the same cheekbones and chin.
“What’s the real reason you were trying to take my drinking glass, Abel?”
“It’s not important now.”
“You didn’t want to roofie me: you wanted DNA evidence to prove that we’re not related. You think I came back to do what? Extort you? Establish a warm family relationship? Jesus! I don’t want your money, and I certainly don’t want a father—I just want you to stop diverting my water. And next time I steal your tractor, I’m not returning it.”
He was silent. So it took me a second to realize that the town was silent, too. The voices, the music, the vehicles were quiet.
I said, “What is it? What’s happening?”
“There’s a missing child. The sheriff asked for you and everyone else has been asked to stay in place.”
I began walking toward Main Street, Abel following a few steps behind. People stood motionless, quietly eating ice cream cones, homemade pies, and bowls of chili.
As I approached the central bandstand and the woman called, “You’re not supposed to move,” and I heard someone on the sound system saying, “Look to your right and left and send a message up if you see Robbie.”
The sheriff’s clerk stood at the microphone onstage. A photo of a boy was projected on the screen above the stage, and I recognized the eyes looking askance, a hand with nails bitten to the quick held up to block his face. I recognized him because I had the same pose in dozens of my photos.
The clerk spotted me and pointed to the left of the stage. Oliver, now wearing his uniform, talked to a distraught woman while his deputies stood behind him.
The clerk announced, “Folks, let Dr. Whitney through. Sherriff, our expert’s here,” and I hurried to Ollie. He pulled me to a small clear space. The muscles in his jaw were tight and his fingers were curled, and I understood those signs as easily as I understood the hackles rising on my dog.
He dipped his head toward mine and said quietly, “Where’s Bertie? Where are Franklin and his dog?”
“Franklin took Bertie to my place, and then Franklin was heading to Joshua Tree. What’s happened?”
“There’s a missing nine-year-old boy. His mother left him at a bench for five minutes—she says he’s reliable about staying put—and then he’s gone. He can talk, but he doesn’t.”
“How long has it been?”
“Almost two hours since she last saw Robbie. No one remembers seeing him leaving the bench, and he doesn’t have a history of wandering off. His mother said he’d be too intimidated to leave on his own. We checked the Port-a-Potties, cleared open stores, food booths, secured his home and comfort zones. He has no friends, and his teacher wasn’t able to get anything from other children. When I called you, Georgia McGuire answered and said you left her phone at her booth.”
I patted my pocket. “Guess I did. What can I do?”
“Nothing without Bertie. We’ve set up road blocks and I’ve alerted the goddamn Sheriff-Coroner, who wants evidence of an abduction before issuing an Amber Alert. No one leaves Coyote Run until we find him and I hope to God that Robbie’s still someplace in town.”
“All the commotion could have made him panic and seek whatever place was closest and accessible, a closet or a narrow space between booths.”
“If he was abducted, how would someone get a child like that away without causing a scene?”
“Easy: promise to take him somewhere quiet. What about Zeus?”
“What about Zeus?” Oliver said. “I’d have to clear out the festival before I let that dog run amok.”
“He won’t run amok. He hasn’t shown any signs of imbalance, and no aggressiveness except on order. If Zeus has a mission, your brilliant dog is going to focus on that mission.”
Oliver looked into my eyes and I kept contact even as the seconds ticked to four, five, six. “I’ll get him.” He spoke to his deputies before darting through the crowd. I walked in a small circle, counting my steps and imagining Oliver’s, and soon he returned with Zeus. A net pouch with a tennis ball hung from his duty belt. The same people who’d cheered our Midnight Runners float shifted away like a wave from the powerful Dutch Shepherd.
The boy’s mother gave us a sweatshirt to use for Robbie’s scent. Oliver held the lead to me, and I sa
id, “I’m your second, Sheriff. I know you and Zeus can do this.”
Oliver took in a long breath. I looked at his hands and saw his wrist drop and his fingers uncurl, relaxing. “Okay. We’ll start at the bench, where Robbie was last seen.” He jogged forward with Zeus, and I followed. When we reached the bench, Oliver bent at the knees and held the sweatshirt to Zeus. “Such!”
The mass of people, the multilayered web of smells, must have bewildered Zeus and he moved back and forth, painstakingly thorough as he tried to trace the trail of a boy who’d zigged and zagged. The animal moved by people, still as trees, their whispers like wind. Zeus passed the veterinary clinic and the Versailles Sandwich Bistro. He hesitated at the doorway of Penelope’s Catering, where the scent of roast beef wafted out, and Oliver said, “Pass auf!” and held out the sweatshirt again.
My skin itched all over, and a drop of sweat stung my eyes.
And then we were at the back entrance to the Country Squire. Oliver opened the door and Zeus raced in. Oliver and I had to take the stairs two steps at a time to keep up with the dog, who bolted down a corridor and turned. He reached the end of the hall and circled at doors, sniffing. Then the dog sat down.
“This can’t be right,” Oliver said.
“Reward him.”
Oliver rubbed Zeus’s back and then knocked on the door and said, “Oliver Desjardins here. Open up.”
By this time the hotel manager had arrived and guests peered out of their rooms. “Back inside!” Oliver ordered them.
The door opened and Hugo Bishop, the military surplus salesman, stood there. “Hi, Oliver. What can I do for you?”
“Can I come inside?”
“Sure. What’s up?
Zeus lunged into the room, and we followed. A packed suitcase was open on the bed, but no one was here.
“Hugo, we’re trying to locate a missing boy.” Zeus searched the room and Oliver opened the closet, the bathroom door, and looked under the bed.
“What would a child be doing here?” Hugo stood where he was, shaking his head. “Unless you want to check the air vents, you can see that I’m alone.”
Zeus went to the man and sat at his feet, and I said, “Like hell. That boy was here. Where is he?”
Hugo looked at me and then Oliver. “You aren’t seriously listening to this nutjob, are you?”
I reached to Oliver, grabbed the tennis ball from the pouch, and threw it at Hugo’s chest. Zeus lunged for it, knocking the man off balance and into the wall.
“Fucking bitch!” he said to me. “Oliver, if you let her harass me, I’ll make sure that dog is put down. Get them out of here.”
Zeus was happily chewing the tennis ball as I grabbed his lead. “Sorry,” I said, and ran out.
“Maddie,” Oliver began, but I was already gone, flying down the main staircase and into the Ladies Room by the bar. I filled a sink with water for Zeus, and then reached into my pocket for the wallet I’d taken when everyone was distracted.
Flipping it open, I found a license, business cards, money, and credit cards, a photo of his family, receipts from restaurants. I opened the coin pocket and changed clinked out—except for a blue plastic Ring-A-Bell free drink chip that fell with a plunk. I rifled through the receipts again and found one for the Burger Hut.
Oliver barged into the Ladies Room. “Maddie, what the hell?”
I held up the chip and the receipt. “Do you want to bet Hugo stashed the boy at the Lakeview Cabins where Burger Hut provides room service? He could make it there and make it back in time to build an alibi.”
Hugo and the manager arrived as I was handing the chip and receipt to Oliver. Hugo reached for his wallet and said, “I’m pressing charges against her. Theft, assault, defamation of character. Treating me like a criminal.”
I remembered seeing him outside the Suncrest. “He scouts kids every time he’s in town.”
“I’m married.”
“Only as a cover, you sick perv,” I said, leaning forward to try to...to loom.
Oliver’s smile was so brief I thought I imagined it. “Hugo, you have one chance to tell me where the boy is.”
I saw the rise and fall of Hugo’s chest and then his shoulders drop fractionally as he smiled and said pleasantly, “You’re going through a crisis, and I understand that, but I’ve been here in the hotel most of the day. My car hasn’t left the lot.”
“Show me your car.”
“No problem.”
I grabbed the tennis ball, and we all trooped out to the parking lot where Hugo pointed out an immaculate Mercedes-Benz. People near the parking lot watched, including Hardwire leaning against his truck.
“Open the trunk,” Oliver said to Hugo.
It was empty as was car’s interior. Oliver led the dog around and through it. Zeus returned to Hugo and sat down.
Hugo stepped away from the dog. “If that’s not enough, ask the manager to show you the security video to prove that I’m telling the truth.”
I looked up and around and saw a camera I’d never noticed before. So why had a casual visitor noticed?
The manager said, “I can do that, Sheriff.”
Hugo smirked. “I haven’t left the area, and you and your dog don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I’m not going to let this crazy bitch Fatal Attraction me. I’m going to call my lawyer now.”
“Not just yet. You’re not under arrest. We’re just having a talk. Let’s go to the station and if there’s no problem, you’re free to go.”
“No, Olly!” I was standing away from the men, clenching my hands, thinking, he’s going to get away with the boy!
“Dr. Whitney, would you please take Zeus to the kennels.” Oliver took my arm and drew me halfway across the lot. As he handed me the lead and the sweatshirt, he said, “I’ll occupy Hugo as long as I can. Stay here and I’ll send one of my deputies to drive you to the Lakeside. Be careful—Hugo may have an accomplice.”
Then Oliver escorted Hugo away, while everyone watched.
The idea of waiting was intolerable, so I ran to Hardwire. “Want to kick some ass?”
His blue eyes went wide. “Hell yeah! What do you got in mind?”
“We’re going to break into a room at the Lakeview.” I opened the passenger side door, said, “Hopp!” to Zeus, who jumped in, and I climbed up into the seat.
Everyone at the festival was still standing or sitting in place, but Hardwire jammed his horn and hollared, “Clear the way!” as he drove to a side street.
Sawhorses blocked our way and a man in an orange Bonanza Days Security vest came to the window. “Sorry, no one leaves—oh, it’s you, Dr. Whitney!”
“Hi! We’ve on assignment from Sherriff Desjardins.”
“Go on through.” He moved the sawhorses, and Hardwire said, “Strap yourself in,” as he hit the gas and cranked up the music and we were both shouting, “Truck Yeah!” as he accelerated on the open road, and I hoped we would get to Robbie before it was too late, and I hoped it wasn’t already too late.
The sign for the Lakeview was right in front of us and I said, “Stop! Don’t go in the drive. Don’t confuse the smells,” and Hardwire slammed on his brakes.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stand by and wait for my signal.”
I got down from the truck with Zeus. I held the sweatshirt to him and said, “Come on, boy, I know you can do this.” Adrenaline made me tremble and I jumped up and down until I could hold the lead without transferring my nerves and interfering with his process. “Such!”
Zeus moved swiftly along the drive, before doubling back and tracking away. He veered off to the woods, possibly lured by the scents of wildlife. I pulled him back toward the cabins, but he tugged against me. So I let him guide me, even though I feared he was wrong and was terrified he’d take me to a scene of flies buzzing, a lifeless body...
Hidden in the trees was a windowless wooden shack with a heavy metal chain and padlock on it. Zeus raced to it and sat. “Good boy! Good Ze
us!” I threw the tennis ball and he charged after it. I knocked on the door and heard nothing. I took out my phone and called Hardwire. “We’re behind the cabins. There’s a path down at the end of the drive. I need horsepower.”
Seconds later the Raptor crashed through the brush and braked in front of us. Hardwire hopped out, and I said, “Any ideas?”
“No problem,” he said with a grin. He unlocked the tool box in his truck bed and pulled out a bolt cutter and a big revolver.
“You want this?” he asked, holding out the gun.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to scare the boy. He may not be there, and he may not be alone. Let me in first and back me up. Let’s move quickly but carefully.”
Hardwire let out a hollow whistle. “Okay.” He set the bolt cutters blades on a link and it broke with a click.
I pulled the chain away, letting it clank down to the ground. He set down the bolt clippers and pulled out the gun. I made eye contact with Hardwire, for the first time noticing his thick pretty lashes. One, two, three, I mouthed.
I eased open the door and stepped forward. The windowless room was dark in the dark of the woods, and I searched for a light switch. My fingers found a beaded pull chain. I tugged it and a hanging light came on.
A small body was curled on the dirt floor. His wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape and his mouth was taped. Zeus darted to the boy. He sat. The boy’s eyes flicked open. He saw us, and looked away from us and to the dog.
There was a piss bucket in the corner and candy wrappers.
Zeus bent to lick the boy’s forehead.
The silence was broken by Hardwire’s burst of laughter. “See, that’s why Bonanza Days always make me optimistic!” He took out a pocket knife and cut through the tape on the boy’s ankles, but the Robbie twisted when Hardwire tried to cut the tape on his wrists.
“Robbie, we’re here to take you back home,” I said. “You’re going home to your family.” Hardware handed me the pocket knife, and I said to him, “Jesus H, how’d an out-of-towner have access to this shack? F. Dirkson Bell. Dirk the Dick is definitely involved.”