by Susan Schild
After a frantic moment of weighing pros and cons and scrambling for an excuse to bail on this budding romance, she could hear what Kate had told her, ‘You can take things slowly and protect your heart. Give the man a chance.’ The silence spun out, and Jack cleared his throat. In a thin voice, she muttered, “Fine.”
His tone was matter of fact. “Good. See you around six.”
Linny kept her nervousness at bay with a lawn-and-garden-care palooza. She could manage this man, she decided, sitting on the metal seat of the surprisingly peppy lawn tractor, zipping around the overgrown lawn in ever-smaller circles. She’d tell the whole truth about herself and, in the unlikely event that that didn’t scare him off, she’d insist that they start out as friends for a year or two. Later, if he underwent an extensive physical and his financial records checked out, they’d progress to a slow pace of dating. This was the power of positive thinking that her old friend, Indigo, preached about. She nodded her head to encourage herself.
But later, all Linny’s good intentions flew away when she opened the door to the beautiful cowboy. With a stubble of beard, faded Levis, and scuffed boots, Jack’s green eyes sparkled as he gave her a crooked grin. “Evening, Linny.”
She drew in her breath sharply as she met his eyes and caught his scent—some heady mix of hay, horses, and Dial soap. Her attraction to him made her weak-kneed and apparently, mute. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She groaned to herself. This was not good. Drawing herself up taller, she sighed, and offered ungraciously, “You might as well come in.”
Roy skidded around the corner, a pair of Linny’s rattiest underwear in his mouth, and launched himself at Jack. Gasping, she snatched the panties from the dog and stuffed them in the pocket of her shorts. Feeling her face flame, she mumbled, “His latest trick is stealing clothes from the laundry basket.”
Jack grinned, and stooped to scratch the dog. Roy twisted in delight, and gazed at him adoringly. Linny shook her head, thinking of the similarities between herself and Roy. All it took was a little affection, and Jack was the puppy’s new best friend.
Jack opened his palms. “What’s going on, Linny? Talk to me.”
“You’d better sit down,” she said flatly, as she waved him to the couch—the seat closest to the door in case he decided to bolt out during her telling of the tale. Eying him warily, Linny drew in a breath and hit the high points of two dead husbands, debt, and no real job. After she’d finished, she watched him, her stomach knotting and her shoulders high. But Jack didn’t run, and didn’t even seem particularly shocked.
“I have one important question.” He gave her a level gaze.
She braced herself.
Looking grave, he leaned forward. “Are you really part owner of a Camaro? Man, I love those cars.”
Linny shook her head, breaking into a grin. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”
He opened his palms. “Linny, by this age, everybody’s had some failures, disappointments, or tragedies. I told you about mine, and you didn’t run for the hills . . .”
As what he’d said sank in, she felt weak with relief. “So you’re not running for the hills?”
“Nope.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Any negotiating room on that rule about two years of friendship before we consider dating?”
Linny smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “Maybe.” Feeling a wave of elation, she shook her head in wonder.
Jack’s phone rang, and he sent her an apologetic look as he picked it up. “I’m on call,” he explained.
But Linny’s heart thudded as she watched his face go pale, and heard his tone grow curt. She knew all about tragedy calls.
“When? Any word from him? What did the note say?” He shot out questions like bullets. “What about the police? Can they issue an AMBER Alert?”
Her mouth went dry and her heart thudded. She gazed at him anxiously as he ended the call. “What is it?”
His eyes were hollow, and his face bleached white as he rose and dug the truck keys from his pocket. “Neal’s run away.”
On her feet at once, Linny crossed her arms and hugged herself to stop the trembling that had started.
In a flat voice, Jack continued, “He’s been gone all afternoon. He told his mother he was going down the street to play video games at his friend Tyler’s house, and that he’d be home by five thirty.” He looked grim. “When he didn’t show up on time, Vera called Tyler’s mother. He’d never been there.” Jack rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “In his room, Vera found a note saying he was running away. His bike is missing.”
Linny wanted to touch his arm but didn’t, sensing how hard he was working to maintain control. “What’s the plan?” She tried to sound calm.
“They’ve contacted law enforcement, and they are going to start to comb the streets in the Fairmont neighborhood where they live, and fan out.”
“What about an AMBER Alert?”
“Chaz says that’s only when abduction is suspected, and thank God we don’t have that scenario,” Jack said grimly. “He’s filed a missing persons report and the police will be on the lookout. I’m going out and try to find him.”
Linny’s heart ached for him. No way she’d let him go this alone. “I’m coming with you.”
“Linny, you don’t need to . . .”
She held up her hand. “I’m coming.”
“Let’s get the lay if the land,” he said brusquely, staring at his phone as his fingers flew.
Nodding hurriedly, she watched him pull up a mapping program.
“Can you please go out to the side door pockets of the truck and pull out the maps. Let’s get coordinated here,” he said.
Linny hurried out to the truck, glad to be doing something useful. Moments later, he glanced back and forth from the phone to the map and muttered. “He’d likely go someplace he knows, on roads he knows, but he’s not doing anything predictable right now.” Jack frowned, uncapped a highlighter and marked the map in yellow. “I see about ten possible routes between Fairmont, the farm, and both his grandparents’ houses . . .”
Linny quietly drew in her breath as she saw the busy thoroughfares and the miles and miles between downtown and where Jack thought the boy might go.
A few moments later, they were in the truck, kicking up gravel as they went flying down the driveway. “What else are Chaz and Vera doing?” Linny asked.
“They’re talking with Tyler and his other friends to see if they know anything.”
For a moment, she sat silently, thinking about Neal. “Running away seems so drastic for a boy his age.” Linny turned to him, and asked quietly, “Why would he do it?”
The muscle in Jack’s jaw worked as he jerked the wheel to avoid a pothole. “Vera says it came out of the blue, but I don’t buy it. The note said something like, ‘Dad isn’t a bad parent. I’m not staying with you all the time.’ ” He gave her a sidelong glance.
“So he’s really mad,” she said slowly.
Jack nodded slowly. “He probably thinks no one cares what he wants. He’s mad about the divorce, mad with me for not spending more time with him, and mad at Vera for fighting me.”
Linny felt a pull of sadness for the boy. She jumped when her phone rang but when she glanced at the number, she took the call.
“Hey, Mama.”
Her voice must have sounded strained, because Dottie instantly said, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Linny sighed. “You met my friend, Jack, at the party. His son Neal ran away. Jack and I are out looking for him.”
Dottie gave a quiet gasp, and then was all business. “How can I help?”
“You can go by the house and take care of Roy for me. If we don’t find him tonight, come to my house tomorrow around sunup, and you can ride and search with me. That’ll give us an extra set of eyes.” She looked at Jack who nodded in confirmation.
“I’ll be there,” Dottie said without hesitation. “Give Jack a hug for me, and tell him we’ll all be praying for him and Neal. We’
ll have to trust God that everything is going to be all right.”
Linny knew her mother would pray all night, and blinked back tears. “Love you, Mama. See you tomorrow.”
Linny and Jack resumed their search. With eyes straining and necks craning, they completed the first route without a glimpse of Neal. Linny leaned the map on her knee and quietly put an X beside the first of the ten routes.
Jack and Chaz talked several times to coordinate their efforts. Though his voice was flinty and the exchanges were terse, Linny thought the two men seemed in sync. Glancing over at him, she said, “You two read each other real well.”
“Chaz was a friend,” Jack reminded her. “He’s in the car doing what we’re doing, and Vera’s sent pictures and descriptions to the county Sheriff’s Department, the city police and the Highway Patrol so they’re all on the lookout.” His eyes raking the fields that ran on either side of the truck, his words came out in a rush. “Vera is used to being a full-time mom, and Neal’s starting to be more independent doesn’t sit well with her. She doesn’t want to share Neal fifty-fifty with me. Chaz and Neal’s relationship is rocky. The boy resents him, and Chaz has the unlucky job of trying to be an instant parent to a pre-teen.” He gave her a grim smile. “Not sure old Chaz knew what he was getting himself into.”
They rode in tense silence, and after the third route turned up nothing, all Linny could think about were the most dire outcomes. She pictured the boy lying bloody and crumpled by the side of the road, hit by a speeding car. Noticing the 103 degrees temperature displayed on the rearview mirror, she pictured the disoriented boy stumbling through the woods and collapsing, pink with heat, and parched. Her stomach gripped as she pictured a genial looking man trying to lure Neal into the car with a tale of a lost puppy. Through the emotional airwaves of the universe, she sent the boy an urgent message. Don’t get in anybody’s car, Neal. Stay away from strangers.
When her face slumped into the cool glass of the window, Linny was startled into wakefulness. She looked around, bleary eyed. They were at a Gas and Go, and a white-faced Jack was filling the tank. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. 1:00 a.m. She had been dozing off and on for the last hour. Slapping her cheeks, held the last mapped route under the globe light and squinted.
Climbing in, Jack rested his hands on the steering wheel, and looked over at her. His voice was weary. “I’m taking you home.”
“I’m not going home,” she said stubbornly.
“Yes, you are. You’ll be a bigger help to me later today if you get some sleep.”
Linny thought about it and grudgingly agreed. “All right.” She pointed at the map. “We’ve retraced every likely route at least three times. What next?” She saw the fatigue and worry etched on his face, and touched his forearm.
“I need to check in with Chaz again, and see where things stand . . .” Jack’s phone rang. Glancing at the number, he quickly picked up. “Hello.”
As he listened, she watched his face fall, and her heart contracted.
“Nothing? Okay. Good idea. Call me if you hear anything.” Ending the call, he looked at her, his mouth a thin line. “No word. Vera and a friend logged into his Facebook account, texted every friend in his address book asking for information, and posted on his wall asking people to be on the lookout for him. They also made up flyers with his picture on it. I’m going to swing by their house to pick those up, and start hammering them on telephone poles.”
“Good.” Linny nodded as they drove into the inky night. “Call me later and let me know where you want us to cover tomorrow, I mean today.”
Jack nodded, his grim expression reflected in the dashboard light.
When he pulled into her driveway, Linny leaned over and wrapped her arms around him. She felt him give a ragged sigh, and squeeze his arms around her shoulders.
“Thanks, Linny,” he murmured, his face in her hair.
As she slipped down from the truck, she felt helpless and wished she had it in her power to make things better for him. Trudging to the trailer, Linny unlocked the door and let Roy out for a run. Peeling off her clothes, she slipped on her nightgown. As she took a perfunctory swipe at her face with a cold washcloth, she could hear the puppy in the back yard, yipping determinedly. Maybe the wind had changed and the scent of Margaret’s chickens was stronger. If he didn’t stop barking, he’d scare the poor things to death. Fervently, she hoped none had escaped. Tonight of all nights, she didn’t want Roy running down a helpless creature. She called the dog in and then collapsed into bed.
Her sleep was fitful, and full of crazy, fragmented dreams. When the alarm buzzed at 4:00 a.m., her heart beat wildly. She blinked, and her eyes felt coated with sand paper. Heaving herself from the bed, she threw on clothes, and hurriedly checked for new text or voice mail messages, but there were neither. Placing the phone on the table in front of her, she sat slumped at the kitchen table, cradling a mug of coffee. As she looked out the window, the dark sky began to lighten. She felt dazed, despairing, and as empty as the corn husks that littered the fields.
At 4:45, she couldn’t wait any longer and called Jack. “Hey. Any news?”
“None.” He sounded exhausted. “I’m going to stop and talk with every convenience store owner and business out this way. Maybe somebody saw something and didn’t think it was important.”
By now, he must be considering the possibility of foul play, and the frightening images that conjured up. Her heart ached for him. Staying focused on the task at hand was the best thing for him to do. Briskly, she asked, “Did you get the flyers up?”
“I put up around seventy and left another hundred in your mailbox. Can you and your mom hand them out or tape them to the outside of mailboxes east of Highway 421?”
“We’ll do it. How are Vera and Chaz holding up?” Linny asked.
“Rough. When I went to pick up the flyers, I heard the tail end of a fight. He was reading her the riot act about her part in Neal running away, telling her she needed to let the boy grow up, and stop trying to keep him from me.”
“Good for Chaz.” Maybe some good would come of this frightening event.
“He’s been driving nonstop too,” Jack said.
Linny heard the undertone of gratitude in his voice. Chaz was his ally on the front line in this battle. She saw headlights bounce up the driveway. “I need to go. Mama’s here.” She paused, not wanting to end the connection. “We’re going to find him and he’s going to be fine,” she said firmly.
“He’ll be grounded ’til he’s thirty-five, though,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
Linny felt heartened by the tiny glimmer of humor, and ended the call.
When her mother stepped from her Buick into the weak morning light, Linny felt a flood of relief. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mama.”
“Of course, sugar.” Her mother hugged her.
Linny was comforted by her warm bulk and familiar smell—baby powder, spearmint gum, and Jergens hand cream.
“I got us some biscuits for riding around this morning.” Dottie held up a paper sack.
Her mouth watered, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten much lately. “Let me grab some bottles of water.” Her mother followed her inside and in the light, Linny smiled.
Wearing sneakers and a shirtwaist dress, Dottie had oversized binoculars slung around her neck. Clutched in her hand was a long-billed cap with an eighteen-wheeler emblazoned on the front, and a flap that hung down the back of the wearer’s neck. Draped on an elastic leash were blue tinted wraparound sunglasses like the NASCAR drivers wore. Her sweet mother probably thought this was a good lady detective ensemble—probably inspired by re-runs of Murder She Wrote—but she looked like a hunter headed for a duck blind. Linny started laughing so hard she couldn’t speak. It wasn’t that funny, she knew, but a combination of nerves and too little sleep made it hard for her to stop.
Dottie got that familiar, defensive look on her face. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re looking so .
. . sporty,” she choked out, “Where did you get . . . the hat?”
Chuckling, Dottie slipped on her shades and pulled the cap over her poufy curls. “Yard sale. Twenty-five cents.”
Fresh paroxysms of laughter bubbled up in Linny, and finally, a few moments later, subsided. Oh, it felt good to laugh.
“I wanted to make sure I could see everything if it got glare-y.” Dottie took off her glasses but kept on the cap, adjusting the brim. “Now, I’ve been trying to think like an upset young man on a bike . . .” she began.
Once they were on the road, Linny and her mother worked out their system. Linny would signal and ease up to mailboxes, while Dottie leaned out the window to tape on the flyers. After they’d distributed most of them, Linny rolled the Volvo through subdivisions and trailer parks. Both women were quiet, intent on keeping their eyes peeled, and not missing a clue. When they saw people working out in their yards, they’d stop and ask, showing them a flyer. One woman had seen a fellow on a bike, but he’d been Hispanic.
Anxiety gnawed at her stomach all morning. Jack finally called at noon to check in, and sounded tired and despondent. “No word, no nothing on this end.”
After she caught him up on what they’d done, he paused. “I’m going to see if I can get hold of a reporter. See if we can get a story on the news.” All business, he rang off. Linny stopped at the old tobacco barns that dotted the countryside, and she and Dottie tromped down to each, calling, “Neal, Neal.” All they heard was the lonesome sound of whirring cicadas and trucks on the interstate in the distance. By late afternoon, Linny’s spirits were flagging, and she could see that Dottie—who “rested her eyes” every afternoon about this time—was fading. “Let’s take a break, Mama.”
At the house, Linny switched off the ignition, and rubbed her eyes wearily.