by Steven Hunt
He turned away. Rage boiled inside him, and he needed to control it. The tension in his face increased as confusion swept over him. His heart thumped in his ears. His fists clenched. A strong urge to throw her over his knee and spank her until she admitted she’d been wrong surged through him.
Death would have been better than having to deal with this psycho-child.
“I am sorry for my outburst, Teddy. It was wrong of me to allow my personal feelings to surface. If I did not care, I would not be here. You have an amazing life ahead of you if you can just focus on the task at hand. You have been blessed beyond comparison and you do not realize it.” Christy’s tiny, well-spoken voice said from behind him.
“Why are you still here?”
“I am not going anywhere.”
He shook his head. What did he have to do to be rid of her? She could have killed him!
But then, she did have a point. He had wanted to die yesterday. When had that changed? What was it about her that caused him to change his mind? If she could somehow change his mind about death, maybe she could really help him. What would it harm to follow for a little longer?
Who was he kidding? Even if he wanted to go with her, the flamethrower bombarding his injured back with a stream of angry fire prevented it. He couldn’t take a single step without aggravating the injury further, let alone chase Christy to a place of her heart’s calling. One thing was certain, when he was able to walk again without shredding the muscles of his back, it would be to the nearest town for medical attention, not to go traipsing through the woods with a loony pre-teen.
A tiny, warm hand touched his back. He opened his mouth to protest when the pain slipped away. As she removed her little hand, Teddy twisted left and right. The pain was gone. “Hey, how did you—”
He turned to face her. Her sparking eyes and genuine smile melted the question from his lips. “Where do we go from here?” he asked instead.
“Good. I knew you would come to the right decision. But I had to give you the opportunity to choose. Now, we walk.”
“Walk? To where?” He scanned the forest around them.
“To our destination, of course.”
****
They walked for hours. Teddy checked his watch often, trying to calculate their distance from the train tracks, but gave up after three hours of continual veering, circumventing, dodging, and jumping through the thick forest. His best guesstimate was that they’d walked at least eight miles, but one mile in the mountains felt like three or four on flat land.
Soaked with sweat from exertion, he wrestled the back of his saturated shirt away from his body. Rivers of salty perspiration gorged a path down the side of his dirty face and neck. His eyes burned from the sweat that had managed to invade them. Tired, hot, and hungry, the reality of his former sedate lifestyle struck him like being beaten over the head with a sledgehammer. No more self-lying, he vowed. Even if the truth hurt.
Christy maintained a regulated pace. How the small girl could continue without tiring, he didn’t know.
After five grueling hours, she stopped. “We are here.”
Teddy looked around as he crumpled to the ground, hungry and with the muscles in his legs aching. Yet, the pain from his injured back had not returned. “Where’s here?” He saw Christy start to say something, but waved her off. “I know. I know…our destination.”
“Yes.”
Still trying to determine where here was, Teddy scanned their surroundings for anything that would give him a hint to their location. A building, a sign, or a marker. The landscape looked the same in every direction; trees, boulders, trees, boulders. “So what now, O Mighty Little One.”
“Now you begin the first of your lessons.” She extended her little arm, pointing west. “Beyond those trees you will find a clearing. In that clearing is a small house. The man in the house is expecting you.”
Teddy looked to where she pointed. He couldn’t see a clearing or anything that resembled a house. “So, I just go that direction until I find a house?”
“Yes.”
“Now? But I’m exhausted. And hungry.”
“Now.”
“Aren’t you coming with me?”
“No.”
He looked toward the west again, unsure. “When will I see you again?”
“When you have completed the lesson.”
He grunted as he pushed on the trunk of a tree to help him stand. Walking two steps toward the direction she’d indicated, he watched her from the corner of his eye. “So…I just go this way?”
She nodded.
Teddy trudged several more steps in the direction he’d been instructed, turning around every few footfalls. After twenty yards, he turned around but she was gone. He inspected the forest, not seeing any sign that Christy had ever been there.
Teddy faced the west. “All righty then. Let’s get this show on the road.” He plunged through the thick foliage toward the unknown.
12
Housed on the bottom floor of the sprawling Ozark County Courthouse, the sheriff’s office occupied a modest suite of rooms. With only the administration and dispatch here, the patrol deputies used the offices at the county jail for their daily business. The sheriff—an older man who’d won five elections and had been the head of the county law enforcement for over twenty years—was known as a no-nonsense sheriff, a tough man who bowed to no one.
Uneasiness at meeting the man who was her best hope of finding Teddy sent butterflies fluttering in the pit of Jane’s stomach. She placed her hand on her abdomen, willing her nerves to settle. Instead, she felt as if she would be sick. She gave Mandy a reassuring smile.
Jane placed her palm on the door, soaking in its coolness. One push and they’d be inside. No going back. What if the sheriff refused to do more than the minimum? Just enough to prove he’d done something? Where would that leave them? And Teddy? The tender state of her emotions could not handle rejection. Not now. She’d have to remain composed or she’d look like one of those frantic wives who interfered with the investigation, preventing the sheriff from doing his job.
“Are we going in?” Mandy said from beside her.
“Um, yes dear.” Part of her wanted to run and hide.
“When?”
Jane inhaled a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and lifted her head. “Now.” She pushed the door. It swung open easier than she expected.
As they walked into the office, an older man with silver eagles pinned on his collar stood and offered his hand over a huge desk. “Good morning. I’m Sheriff George Platney. How can I be of assistance, Mrs. Whitaker?”
How did he know her name? As soon as the question crossed her mind, she realized she must be the only wife of a missing husband in the county at this time. Jubilee was a small community. The other husbands were at home enjoying the company of their families during the holidays. Except for crimes committed by the occasional tourist during the summer, a missing person case in Jubilee at Christmastime was a big deal.
Jane and Mandy settled into chairs on the opposite side of his desk. The sheriff’s unibrow furrowed as he looked at them. She knew he saw puffy, red eyes, and dark circles. Neither she nor Mandy had gotten much sleep since Teddy left.
“Please, call me Jane. And this is my daughter, Mandy. We came by last night, but you weren’t in.”
The sheriff nodded. “And you may call me George. If you’re not comfortable with that, I also answer to Sheriff.”
Jane didn’t smile at his little joke.
“I heard you stopped by. My apologies. As an elected official, I’m required to attend political functions now and then.” He seemed to try to hide his pang from not receiving a reaction to his earlier witticism, but Jane thought she spotted the beginning of a pout on the sheriff’s face. With an office full of sycophants, he probably wasn’t used to a silent room after telling a joke.
“Um, Sheriff, my husband’s car was found crashed off the side of the mountain alongside Dead Man’s Curve. We�
�”
George smiled as he raised his hand. “To spare you the heartache—I’m aware of the circumstances.”
Jane continued, “We want to know what’s being done to find my husband and offer our assistance.”
“I appreciate your offer, ma’am, but—”
“Look, Sheriff, I know he’s out there—possibly hurt and in need of medical care. The weather’s getting colder, and he’ll not be able to survive much longer. I’m not sure he even has a coat with him.” Tears threatened to escape from her eyes. So much for composure.
The sheriff merely nodded at her curtness. Considering his lengthy tenure he must have been through this before. He had to know the stress placed on family members when one of their own was in danger and answers were slow in coming.
The door opened, and two men barged in. The taller of the two had casually dressed in jeans, tan cowboy boots, and a brown barn coat. A glimpse of a gold badge could be seen on his belt when his jacket flipped open. He gripped a black Stetson in his hands.
The other deputy was dressed in the cocoa brown shirt and tan slacks of the sheriff’s office uniform.
The sheriff glared at the intruders. He cleared his throat before saying, “Mrs. Whitaker—Jane—the man dressed as if he was heading to a rodeo is Deputy Jeb Ryker, the lead investigator into your husband’s accident.”
Jeb nodded in acknowledgement.
George continued. “The other deputy is Miles Johnson, who was just leaving.”
“But, Sheriff, I—”
“Hit the road, Johnson!”
Jane jumped at the sheriff’s bark. Once her heart returned to normal instead of trying to bounce out of her chest, she appreciated the sheriff’s take-charge attitude. She didn’t want to get on his wrong side.
Johnson’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, Sheriff.” He turned to Jane, tipped his hat before closing the door behind him.
“As I was saying, Jane,” George began, “I appreciate your offer, but everything possible is already being done. Isn’t that right, Ryker?”
“Uh, yes sir. In fact, I was heading out to the crash site when I was redirected here.” Jeb stepped around Jane’s chair and sat on the edge of George’s desk, facing her.
Jane turned to the deputy. “If you don’t mind, Deputy Ryker, what is being done?”
“Please call me Jeb. Last night we searched the area until it became too dark to see. This morning I planned on scouring the area on horseback. Thus, the reason for my clothes.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sheriff.
Did Jeb not buy into the sheriff’s diva attitude? He might be the only officer on the force who didn’t puff up the sheriff’s ego.
“Have you found anything?” Mandy asked the deputy then looked at her mother.
“No, but finding nothing can be as revealing as finding a lot of evidence. Normally, in an MVA like this—”
Jane’s eyebrows rose. “A what?”
“Sorry. MVA is an abbreviation for motor vehicle accident. Anyway, in an accident such as this one, skid or yaw marks are common. These are caused by the rubber left on the road from either heavy braking or excessive acceleration. There weren’t any marks on the road leading up to where your husband’s car went over the cliff. My question is…what condition was your husband in yesterday? Was he sick? Or maybe he had something weighing on his mind?”
“He’s been suffering from depression.” Jane answered.
“Was he on any type of medication?”
“None that I know of. Ever since he’s been in this mood, we haven’t talked much.”
“I see,” said Jeb as he scribbled something in a notebook he’d produced from his coat pocket.
“That’s one of the reasons we need to find him,” offered Mandy. “To get him the help he needs. Pastor Joseph believes he can help Daddy if we can just find him.”
“Joseph. He’s a good man,” Jeb said, thumping his notebook against his open hand. “In the brief moments you spoke with your husband, did he say anything that might lead you to question his intentions?”
“If you’re asking if my husband said he was going to kill himself; no, he did not.” She knew the questions were necessary, but that didn’t mean she had to like them. Her pulse pounded as she clenched her hands into fists.
Jeb nodded. “OK. Any notes or letters?”
“Nothing. Look, Deputy Ryker—”
“Please, call me Jeb.”
“Deputy, Teddy was sick but he didn’t leave any indication that he wanted to commit suicide.”
The sheriff nodded, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair. Jane shifted her gaze from the sheriff to his deputy. “So, how is the search going? Have you found anything? Tell me the truth. I need to know.”
“I understand how difficult this must be for you,” Jeb started, “but rest assured; we are doing everything we can. The weather has been a factor, grounding the helicopter in Springfield. But that hasn’t stopped us from forming a small army of volunteers to search the mountain and the forest. We have every available deputy searching. The sheriff has kept only a skeleton crew of deputies in reserve for patrol and other calls. Last night we finished a three-mile grid, and we’re extending the search today to five miles. It’s some rough territory so it’ll be slow going. ”
“How many men are searching? Do you need more? I can call the men who worked for my husband,” Jane suggested.
“I appreciate the offer, but this morning we’ll have about twenty men and eight canines. I expect an additional ten volunteers just after noon with all-terrain vehicles. Any more and we’ll be stumbling over ourselves.” He smiled, displaying a perfect set of white teeth.
“Have you found any clues? Anything that will help find my dad?” Mandy looked on the verge of tears.
Jane watched as the sheriff massaged his temple with one of his thick, massive hands. “I’m a little uncomfortable discuss—“
“Have they found any clues?” Mandy repeated with force.
“No. Not yet.”
Mandy buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Jane rubbed her back. Like Mandy, her nerves were on edge.
“Is there anything we can do, Sheriff?” Jane repeated.
Jeb answered for him. “Word of mouth. Tell your friends and family to keep a keen eye out for anything that might lead us to him. It may be something they wouldn’t normally think of, such as a discarded article of clothing on the side of the road. Or maybe a sound similar to an injured animal. Many times a case can be broken by what someone sees or hears rather than what’s found on the scene. Even if they think they see something, but aren’t sure, have them call. We’ll check it out.”
The sheriff sighed. “I know how you must be feeling.”
Mandy bolted from her chair. “How do you know how we feel? Has your father disappeared?”
Jane stood to calm her daughter as the telephone buzzed on the sheriff’s desk. He stabbed a button on the phone base, growling, “What?”
An electronic sounding woman’s voice filled the room. “Uh, Sheriff? Commissioner Reid is here for your scheduled meeting.”
“Tell him to wait. I’m busy.”
“But the commiss—”
He pressed the cutoff button, ending the call.
Jane pulled Mandy closer to her. “I can see you’re busy, Sheriff, so we’ll go. Please, don’t stop looking.”
“We won’t, Mrs. Whitaker.”
“I’ll see you out.” Jeb offered.
Standing in the hall, but with the sheriff’s door ajar, Jeb offered her a business card. “My numbers are listed on the front. If you have any questions or if you just want to know how the search is going, call. Anytime.”
“Thank you, Jeb,” Jane said, taking it.
“I won’t stop looking, and you can take that to the bank.”
“Thank you, again.” She forced a smile. She wanted to believe him but the heavy feeling in her gut said differently. The sheriff and Jeb didn’t have the emotional attachment sh
e and Mandy felt. And without that attachment, she wasn’t sure they were doing all they could.
“So, we’re not gonna do anything?” Mandy asked as she closed her car door.
“You heard the sheriff. He wants everyone to ‘keep a keen eye out.’ What better eyes are there than our four?” She tried to remain positive for Mandy. If her daughter knew how she really felt, Mandy would either go berserk or have a breakdown. Jane was not willing to risk either one.
“Did you notice that no one was waiting to see the sheriff when we left?”
“I did. It looks like the call from his secretary might have been to get us out.”
“I think we can trust Jeb, Mom.”
“I hope you’re right, honey, because it seems we’re running out of trustworthy people.”
13
Teddy trudged through the trees and thick underbrush for another thirty minutes before arriving at the edge of a clearing. At the tree line, he stopped to catch his breath while examining the area before him.
Approximately fifty acres of brown pasture dotted with a patchwork of old snow lay in front of him. In his mind he imagined how the field might look in the spring. Plush, green grass waved in a hypnotizing back and forth motion as a gentle breeze bathed every square inch. Wild flowers of every color gave the field individuality and contrast. Abundant butterflies and bees fluttered from flower to flower. Birds chirped and tweeted their beautiful songs under a cloudless sky of sea blue. The image in his mind evolved into a scene from a movie where the male and female stars ran in slow motion through a perfect field into each other’s outstretched arms.
He shook his head, chasing the image away before it tore at his heart. In his mind the character portraying the male role was him and the woman was Jane.
The vision aided the full return of the confining squeeze of the cloak of depression. With the doubt returned the fog of confusion.
Why had he placed his future in the hands of a ten-year-old? Even if he believed that she was more than an adolescent, what truth lay in her claim of the deadline? Of his potential death? And what awaited him in the next hour? The next day?