Take the Bait

by S. W. Hubbard

  They tramped along silently, eyes cast down, for a good ten minutes. Suddenly Earl stopped. “Where’s Sam?”

  “Oh, great. It’s not enough we can’t find Janelle. Now that stupid dog is lost, too.”

  Earl called, “Sam! Sam! Here, boy!” At once, behind them they could hear his faint answering bark. They called some more, and Sam barked some more, but the sound was not getting any closer.

  “We’ll have to go back to look for him,” Earl said.

  Frank, desperately tired and outraged at the thought of having to backtrack up the mountain, followed. The last thing he needed was to lose Earl in the bush.

  About a hundred feet up the mountain, they spotted Sam. He was standing to the left of the trail, below them in a little gully. “Get over here, Sam,” Frank bellowed, but the dog just stood staring at them, barking insistently.

  “Here, Sam, here boy,” Earl cajoled. But still the dog refused to come. Instead he began running back and forth over a five-foot stretch.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Frank muttered as he left the trail and scrambled down to the dog. He picked up momentum as he went, and his legs, rubbery from so much walking, could not slow him down. He felt his toe catch on something and he fell facedown about a foot from Sam.

  “Goddammit to hell!” Frank’s face was almost purple with pain and rage.

  Earl had scrambled down the slope and was pulling on his elbow to help him up, but Frank shook him off and pulled himself up. “I’m going to strangle that dog!”

  Sam wisely sat a few feet away, watching the proceedings with his sharp brown eyes. Then, as if unable to restrain himself, he began to run circles around Frank and Earl.

  “Grab ahold of him, would’ya,” Frank directed Earl. Even through his thick boot, his big toe throbbed with the force of his stumble. “What the hell did I trip on, anyway?”

  And then his eyes fell on it: a piece of bright copper pipe about three inches in diameter, sticking straight up from the ground about four inches, like a marker. Frank moved closer to examine it. He tugged on it, but it didn’t budge. He looked up and his eyes took in the whole scene: Earl struggling to hold the frantic dog, who was trying his best to break away and pawing the earth at the same time; the abundance of dried leaves that seemed to have oddly settled in this section of the gully; the broken branches of the small berry plants that grew on the far side of the gully.

  “Something’s buried here,” Frank said. He swiftly kicked away the thick mat of leaves, and the freshly dug earth became apparent.

  He’d known this was a possibility, but seeing the grave when he had come so close, so very close, to finding Janelle alive was almost more than he could bear. He cradled his head in his hands.

  But when he spoke his voice was steady. “Let’s get to work, Earl. I’ll radio the other rangers, you get out the shovels.”

  With shaking hands, Earl started digging at the downhill end of the grave. “I bet it’s just one of those animals he’s been killing, don’t you think?” he asked.

  Frank was about to scoff at this, but one look at Earl’s pathetically hopeful face changed his mind. Besides, the kid had a point. Every other time he had thought he was about to find Janelle he’d been wrong. Why not now?

  He was digging at the top of the grave, near the copper pipe. “Why the hell did he put this here?” Frank muttered half-aloud. “He went to such lengths to hide the grave, and then he seems to have left this pipe as a marker, almost like he was planning on coming back.”

  Sam, relieved that his human companions had finally got his message, sat panting quietly a few feet away, watching the men dig. Then, for no apparent reason, his ears pricked up, his hackles rose, and he raced to Frank’s side. He sniffed at the pipe, cocked his head, and began a peculiar half-whine, half-growl. Frank observed his behavior with a wrinkled brow. Then he gently nudged Sam away, and laid his own ear next to the opening of the pipe.

  What he heard sent a shiver of terror and revulsion through his body. He leaped up as if the pipe had burned him. “Jesus Christ, Earl! Whatever it is, it’s still alive. Listen.” And he pushed Earl’s head down to the pipe so he could hear the sound, too. Frank listened again: soft, labored breathing. Human breathing.

  Earl, who had been digging rather gingerly, none too eager to come into contact with a body, now sent dirt flying furiously. His shovel was the first to hit the box. As they cleared dirt and rocks from a wider area, the crude wooden structure was revealed: about three feet wide and five feet long, it was big enough to hold a good-size dog. Hastily knocked together, many of the box’s nails had not been driven in straight and protruded from the edge of the cover. They tried to pull the cover off, but they hadn’t dug enough around the perimeter to free it. They returned to digging, their progress maddeningly slow.

  Finally they created a clearance of several inches around the box, enabling them to lift the lid straight off.

  Inside lay Janelle Harvey.

  She was on her right side. Her terrified left eye regarded them for one brief moment before she squeezed it shut in protection against the light. Even the fading daylight in the deep woods was too much for eyes that had seen total blackness for almost two days.

  Her knees were drawn up to her chest to allow her to fit in the small box. As Frank and Earl carefully lifted her from her prison, she gasped with the pain of being moved from the position her joints had been locked into. She drank desperately from the water bottle they offered her, and Frank noticed that the inside of the box had been fitted with a small water dispenser of the type used in hamster cages.

  He’d fantasized about this moment: a triumphant rescue; a joyful reunion. Instead, Frank looked at the frail forlorn figure slumped against a tree, her dirty pink shirt half torn off. This was not the Janelle he had carried about with him in his mind’s eye. That Janelle was pretty and smart and loving and headstrong. He wondered if the girl he had found would ever merge with the girl her father had lost.

  Frank sat down next to Janelle and began to talk softly. “Earl radioed the rangers, and soon they’ll be here with a stretcher to carry you down the mountain. They’ll take you to the hospital to make sure you’re all right. In a few days, when you feel up to it, you’ll tell me everything that happened, okay? But right now, I have to ask you just one thing. Who did this to you, Janelle?”

  Janelle had been looking off into the trees the entire time Frank was talking, and her gaze did not shift now. At first her lips moved soundlessly, but then she said softly, “Tommy.”

  24

  FRANK STRODE ALONG the long green hospital corridor, trying to keep focused on his destination, but against his will he glimpsed the tableau in each dimly lit room: a stricken person lying in the bed, a TV blaring, a relative sitting uselessly in a chair, waiting to be freed by the end of visiting hours. As Frank put his head around the doorway of Janelle’s room, he expected to be met by the same scene. But the bed was empty, the TV silent, and a weak beam of sunshine came through the open curtains. The room was filled with flowers and cards. Janelle sat in a chair by the window, leafing through a magazine. Frank observed her silently. It had only been twenty-four hours, but already she looked much better. Although still drawn, her face had regained its rosy color; her strawberry blond hair gleamed in the light.

  “Hello, Janelle.”

  She jumped in her chair and the magazine fell to the floor.

  “Can I come in?”

  She nodded but did not smile. Her solemn hazel eyes followed him as he crossed the room to sit in the chair beside her.

  “How do you feel?”

  Janelle shrugged and looked down at her hands. “Okay, I guess.” Then she brought her head up sharply and looked Frank straight in the eye. “Daddy says you always said I hadn’t been kidnapped or murdered. How did you know?”

  “Well, I wasn’t positive,” Frank said. “First it was the gas can that made me doubtful you’d been taken against your will. It seemed like you intentionally set it behind th
at bush, then got into a car and rode away. Then, the more I talked to people, the more I believed something had been troubling you.”

  Janelle averted her eyes. “You were right about the gas can. I meant to come back for it, but then I never did…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed out the window.

  “Did you plan to leave with Pablo that day?”

  Janelle shook her head. “We just got to talking, and suddenly it seemed like a good idea. I guess you think I’m a real idiot.”

  “No, I don’t.” Frank paused to choose his words carefully for once. For his own satisfaction, he wanted to hear Janelle’s whole story. But more important, he needed Janelle’s cooperation to find Tommy. Despite massive search efforts by the state police, Tommy was still on the loose.

  “You know, Janelle,” he continued slowly, “sometimes when people are scared, they do things they wouldn’t necessarily have done if they had the…the luxury to think their problem through.”

  They were silent for a moment, then Frank spoke softly. “Do you want to tell me what made you so scared?”

  Two tears slipped down her cheeks, but she did not sob. “I’m so ashamed.”

  Frank longed to put his arms around her and brush away her tears, to rub her back as he had rubbed Caroline’s so many times over the years, even when she was grown. But he sensed that she would not want that from him—would not even want him to pat her hand. Instead Frank put on his no-nonsense voice.

  “Janelle, you did not commit a crime. Tommy committed the crime, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. I know you didn’t run away from home for a little change of scenery, and I know Tommy didn’t bury you in that box as a practical joke. I want you to tell me why, in your own words. Now, I’m going to turn on this tape recorder, and I want you to tell me everything that happened between you and Tommy, starting at the very beginning.”

  Frank clicked on the little recorder, then held his breath, hoping his strategy had not backfired. But Janelle took a deep breath and with her head bowed, began talking.

  “It started in January. I came home from school one day and I was going to bake some cupcakes, but we didn’t have any eggs so I went over to my aunt’s house to get some. My aunt was at work, but all my life we’ve just walked in and out of each other’s houses, so I went into the kitchen.” She stopped and closed her eyes, as if calling up the scene that day. Her delicate features twisted in pain at the memory.

  “I heard this horrible, high-pitched screaming. It wasn’t loud, but it seemed close. I looked out the kitchen window into the backyard…” Janelle stopped, mouth open but paralyzed.

  “What did you see Tommy doing?”

  “He had a raccoon. It was…nailed to a board. It was still alive, struggling to get free, hurting itself more and more every time it moved. And Tommy was just standing there, watching it.” Janelle shuddered, breathing heavily. “Smiling.”

  “I ran outside, yelling for him to stop. At first when he saw me, he seemed scared. Then he just started to laugh.”

  She stopped, her breaths coming in rapid, short gasps. Then she calmed herself. “He killed some other animals after that. He left things for me to find. Then, I met Pablo.”

  “How many times did you see him?”

  “Three. Once at the Trail’s End, and twice at this place where there’s a picnic table over near Stults’ farm. We talked for hours. He was so intelligent. He had read all kinds of books I’ve never read. He knew about philosophy and theology and ancient history and Greek and Roman and Indian myths. It was great—I had never talked to anyone like that before. I never even knew people like him existed. I mean, up to then, Mrs. Carlstadt is probably the most intellectual person I knew, and she only knew about English literature. Eventually I kind of hinted about my family problems. He never asked for details or told me what I should do. He just started talking more and more about the life at the compound.

  “He said that most people were just made of what he called ‘the raw elements’ and that God had created them simply to reproduce and create workers to keep the world functioning on its most basic level. Then he said there were a small class of people who rose above their basest instincts to live the life of the mind. He said God put them on earth to think and create and produce art and music and literature. He said a lot of great minds had been ruined by sexual temptation—people like Nietzsche and Byron and Van Gogh. That’s why Pablo created the compound—so people could realize their creative potential and be protected from the distraction of sex.”

  Janelle looked at him with a combination of sheepishness and defiance. “I know it must sound stupid to you now, but he made it seem so right. It just seemed like sex was all anyone I knew ever thought about. All Kim and Melanie ever wanted to talk about was guys, and who was going with who, and who was breaking up with who. It got real old. Before Craig and I broke up, he was always on me about it. And then…” Janelle’s eyes glittered with tears, but she did not cry.

  A great feeling of compassion welled up in Frank. Every so often, a child was born who rebelled against the reality she found herself in. Who knew that some other life existed but didn’t know where or how to find it. He believed these children were headed for certain glory, or certain disaster. There was rarely any middle ground. Janelle had narrowly escaped the ultimate disaster; he wondered if she would rebound and go on to some wonderful achievement.

  “So,” he said gently, “you thought it would be nice to go off and live the contemplative life with Pablo and his friends.”

  Janelle nodded. “Pablo told me that I could learn more reading in his library than I could in high school. He said I could go off to college later if I wanted to. He told me it was important that I be totally committed to the notion of leaving my old life behind. He said everything I would need would be provided for me at the compound, so there was no need to bring anything, or make any preparations to leave. He said there would come a day when he felt I was ready to make the move, and he would come for me.”

  Frank scowled. He had suspected that Pablo had downplayed his role in Janelle’s flight. “And that day came on April eighteenth, when he drove up alongside you on Stony Brook Road.”

  “That’s right. I set the gas can down, just like you said. I meant to just go for a little drive and talk, but Pablo said this was the day, and I decided he was right.”

  “You didn’t feel bad, leaving your father to worry about what happened to you?”

  Janelle looked away and her voice pleaded for understanding. “I did. I begged Pablo to let me call or write just to tell him I was okay, but Pablo said it was important to my spiritual growth that I stop clinging to the past. I tried to think of a way to get in touch with Daddy anyway, but there were no phones at the compound, and I had no money for stamps, and no way to get to a mailbox.”

  “So it wasn’t you who sent the ransom note after you left?”

  “Ransom note? What ransom note?” Janelle looked genuinely perplexed.

  “Never mind. So what was it like, living at the compound?”

  “Well, it was a little hard to get used to—no TV, no radio, no phone, no hot water. But I kind of got to like that part. We would wake up early and eat breakfast together. We all had chores to do, like planting the vegetable garden and fixing up the buildings. We’d meet again for lunch, then in the afternoon we were supposed to read or work on our creative projects. After dinner, we’d sit around and have these conversations that were supposed to help us exchange ideas and do what Pablo called ‘feeding each other’s spirit.’ But mostly it was Pablo talking and everyone else just agreeing with him.

  “You know, when he first told me about the compound, I thought I wouldn’t fit in there because I’m not any kind of creative genius. I thought the others would all be like Pablo, but after a while, I realized they weren’t too smart. I mean, I liked Catherine and Rosalie. But they all seemed to depend an awful lot on Pablo, and to not have much to say for themselves. Still, I was happy enough, because for the fi
rst time in months, I had nothing to worry about.”

  “So why did you leave?”

  As she looked up at him, he saw a face shaped by bitter knowledge.

  “It happened before breakfast. No one else was up yet. I went into the kitchen, and while I was leaning over the counter, measuring out the tea, Pablo came and put his arms around me and started kissing my neck.” Janelle clenched her fists.

  “I knew he wouldn’t force me. But it was catching him like that, hearing him use that same soft, reasonable voice he used when he was trying to explain Kierkegaard, that made me see him for what he was. A fake. A bullshitter. I knew then that there was no place on earth to run away to. That I had to come home and tell Daddy and face whatever happened. That night after everyone was asleep, I just walked away. I came with nothing; I left with nothing.

  “I was so mad, I wasn’t even thinking about how I would get home with no money. The sun was coming up and a truck was coming, so I stuck out my thumb, and he stopped right away. I got in, and it wasn’t until a few minutes later that I realized it was pretty dangerous to be hitchhiking.”

  Frank bit back the impulse to point out it was no more dangerous than going off to live in a religious commune with a man you met in a bar.

  “Anyway, the guy who picked me up turned out to be a really nice man. He said he wished he could take me all the way to Trout Run, but he was headed north. He dropped me off at the rest stop on the Northway and gave me money to call my father and get something to eat.

  “I was really scared to call my dad, but excited too, you know? So I decided to eat something first. After that, I had a dollar left. I forgot how far away I was, and that it was going to cost more than a quarter. It ended up being ninety cents, so then I only had a dime left. Anyway, the phone rang four times and then I heard Daddy’s voice say hello. I started talking right away, and then I realized it was a recording—that Daddy had got an answering machine. I almost hung up, but then I remembered I didn’t have any more money, so I told him on the machine where I was and to please come get me, that I was all right, and that I loved him. Then the phone company cut me off.