Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10)

by David B. Smith

  “You sure you copied it down right?”

  “Yeah. Right off the paper where Alex’s signed him in. Look for yourself. ‘350 Broadway.’ And this is 350 Broadway right here. And it’s a Del Taco.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dan began to laugh. “Well, you’ve got to hand it to the old man, Stone. He’s covered things up pretty good. Pays all cash, probably fakes the signature of the pastor, and now he gives you a Del Taco as his home address.” He looked over at Bucky with a grin. “You going to go in and ask for him?”

  “No,” Bucky snapped. Throwing the car into gear, he did a frustrated U-turn. “Now I don’t know what to think.”

  “Well, look.” Dan gazed behind him at the sleepy little town. “The guy’s on the run. Hiding in motels and stuff. He wants to dump the kid just in case he gets arrested. He knows there’s some kind of Christian camp out in the woods, so he takes his kid there. Sure he’s going to use a fake address and everything. He’s doing everything he can to keep Alex out of sight.”

  Bucky was silent all the way back to camp. Lord, we’re in over our heads here! His mind was spinning with questions. Was Alex telling the truth about his mother’s crime? And could he trust the story of a father who had put down a false street address, maybe forged a pastor’s handwriting . . . and was possibly even a kidnapper?

  He let Dan off at the ball field with a weary “Thanks.”

  “See you at supper,” Dan hollered over his shoulder as he trotted onto the field.

  On his way back to the office, Bucky stole a quick glance at the crafts tent. In the far corner he could see Alex hunched over a large strip of leather, carefully tooling a design on the brown material. Despite the still unanswered questions, Bucky felt a surge of protectiveness for the child.

  “What did you find out?” Renee Carpenter looked up from the computer terminal as he entered the outer office.

  “Fake address all the way,” Bucky admitted. “The dad put down the address for Del Taco in town.”

  She managed a smile. “Well, I guess that’s original. Back in Chicago, crooks used to always put down the address of Wrigley Field – you know, the baseball park – as their home address when they got pulled over. I saw that in some movie way back when.”

  “Did you come up with any ideas?”

  Renee hit a button and the computer screen went blank. “I got through to the district office and talked to Joe.”

  “Oh really? What’d he say to do?”

  She shook her head. “Well, first of all, there’s no such person as Pastor Thomason. So I guess the registration form is pretty useless all the way around.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that out too.”

  “Anyway, he said we had to call Social Services? I mean, right away.”

  Bucky thought for a moment. “Did you do it already?”

  “No. I wanted to see what you found out first.”

  For a long moment Bucky sat thinking. It was scary feeling to be one of the people who held a vulnerable kid’s life in their hands. What was going to happen to the frail child? “I guess we call then.”

  The director’s wife nodded. “You’re right.”

  All at once a certain feeling came over the counselor. In the pit of his stomach he began to sense an overwhelming need to know that God was with them at that very moment. “I . . . I think we should pray first,” he blurted out. “I mean, I’m so confused right now. I don’t know what’s really happening or anything. But don’t you think we should pray before we call?”

  Renee’s face softened. “I sure do.”

  Together they bowed their heads as Bucky offered a brief prayer. “Lord, we just don’t know what’s really happening,” he confessed. “But I know that Alex is hurt bad. He needs you so much. Please help these people at Social Services to do the right thing and take care of him. Amen.”

  He stood up and began to pace as Renee pulled the card from her Rolodex file and began to dial. “Busy,” she murmured.

  Bucky glanced out the window at the hum of afternoon activity. “Better try it again.”

  “Uh huh.” She punched in the digits again. “Now it’s ringing.” She waited a moment. “Oh, is this Social Services?” A pause. “This is Renee Carpenter out at the Sierra Pines Camp. You know, the Christian place.”

  The tall athlete listened to Mrs. Carpenter’s side of the conversation. Please, Lord . . .

  “Anyway, we have a boy here that I think you need to be aware of. His name’s Alex Rickard, and he’s suffered some pretty serious physical abuse at the hands of a parent.” She listened to the other end of the line for a moment. “Sure, I’ll hold.”

  She covered the phone with her hand. ‘‘Something’s up.” After a brief pause she spoke again. “Yes, we have him right here at the ramp. Why?”

  A moment later she turned pale. “I, uh . . . yes. I’ll hold.” She covered the receiver again. Her voice was shaky when she said, “They said that Alex’s father was arrested Monday afternoon on charges of kidnapping. The mother says he took Alex away from her and that the dad has abused his son ever since he was five. The whole county’s been searching for Alex all week.”

  Chapter Ten: A Final Phone Call

  Bucky could feel the painful pounding of his heart. Alex’s dad? His gaze jerked out the window to where the lonely camper was probably still poking a design in his little sheet of leather. Who was telling the truth?

  “Alex says it’s his mother who has been hurting him,” Renee told the officer. She listened for a moment. “Well, that may be true, but he told our counselor, Mr. Stone, that he had been staying with his mother, but that she regularly abused him, and he finally called and asked his father to come get him.”

  Bucky shifted impatiently in his seat. What would happen to Alex?

  “Just a minute.” The director’s wife cut in again, interrupting Bucky’s thoughts. She held out the phone to him. “They want to talk to you.”

  “Mr. Stone?” The voice was that of a middle - aged woman. “This is Mrs. Carmichael at Social Services. I understand you’ve been the counselor for this young man all week.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Can you just tell us what you know about him?”

  Briefly Bucky related the events of the past few days. “And he told me today, when I saw all the bruises, that it was his mom who had done it. Not his dad.” He knew his voice was giving away his own uncertainty.

  The social worker on the other end of the line didn’t seem concerned. “Well, Mr. Stone, we often have a case where, when one parent has a child to themselves in an isolated situation, that they’re able to affect what he or she tells authorities. Does Alex seem frightened when you talk to him about either of his parents?”

  “Yes.” Bucky thought hard. “‘Course, I didn’t really talk to him about any of this until I saw the bruises today.”

  He could hear the worker taking notes on the other end of the line. “When does your director, Mr. – Carpenter, is it? – when does he get back to town?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Hmmmm. That’s too bad.”

  Bucky shut Renee a quick glance. “You think maybe we ought to get Joe back here tonight?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Soon as we get done with Social Services, I’ll try to call the district office again.”

  “Mr. Stone?”

  “Yeah.”

  The worker cleared her throat. “Like I said to Mrs. Carpenter, Mr. Rickard has been taken into custody. But Alex’s mother has been very anxious to get her son back.”

  “But . . .” Bucky sucked in his breath. “What if what Alex is saying is true? What if his mom has been . . . hurting him?”

  “Naturally, we’ll be looking into this very carefully,” the woman told him. “She’s out of town until tomorrow in any case. So for this evening, at least, I think we’ll simply leave Alex with you folks. As long as he’s getting good care and isn’t in any danger. But we’ll be back in touch with you
in the morning.”

  Bucky felt just a tiny sense of relief. At least he had until the morning with Alex. “OK,” he responded. “Thanks. You need to speak with Mrs. Carpenter again?”

  “Yes, just for a moment, please.” Bucky handed the receiver back to the camp director’s wife. She listened for a few moments, jotted down a number, and then said goodbye.

  “What?” He leaned forward eagerly.

  “Oh, she simply gave me her home phone in case we need her. I guess sometimes children like this can react very unpredictably.”

  “Oh.” Bucky stood up slowly. The tension of the phone call seemed to almost make his muscles ache. “I guess I better get back to the kids. And you’re going to call Joe?”

  “Uh huh.” She gave Bucky a motherly hug. “You’re a good guy to care about your boys this way.”

  “Thanks.” He shut the screen door carefully.

  The sun was still high overhead as he stopped by the crafts tent. “How’s it going in here?” he asked.

  Sylvia shot him a grin. “Hot, isn’t it?”

  “Did my guy do OK?”

  She shrugged “I didn’t hear a word out of him. Over there, I think.”

  He walked over to where Alex was sitting. “How’re you doing?”

  “Fine.” The dark - haired boy looked up from his painstaking work.

  “Getting hungry?” Bucky ran a finger along the leather with its intricate pattern. “Wow, this is great! You’re pretty good at it.”

  “I’m not very hungry yet.” Alex’s voice was a monotone.

  “Well, listen, why don’t we hike down to the lake together and see how everybody did? Most of our guys are there.” He half - expected a murmur of protest.

  “OK.” Alex set down the piece of leather with a shrug.

  “You want to come back and do some more on this tomorrow?” Will there be a tomorrow here for Alex? Bucky forced the thought away. “Or go back to skiing?”

  “This, I think.” The boy nodded soberly at the craft materials. “Did you find my dad?”

  “Uh, no.” The counselor gulped. “Not yet.” Hiding the truth from him was painful, but Bucky knew he couldn’t tell Alex the whole story just yet. “Come on, let’s go see how the guys are doing.”

  Together they walked down to the lake where the sun was beginning to cast its late – afternoon glare across the little ripples that spread clear to the far shore. David was just pulling the final skier around the bend.

  “Pretty good, huh?” Bucky shaded his eyes from the golden glare. “That looks like fun.”

  Jason and two other boys came walking up, their skin glowing from the tans of five days at camp. “Hey, Alex.” The blond camper greeted the smaller boy. “How’s it goin’?”

  Startled, Alex looked up. “Uh, fine,” he muttered.

  Bucky cast a quizzical glance at Jason. What had happened to his cockiness?

  During supper he gave Dan a whispered update on the situation. The stocky boy made a face as he digested the latest bulletin. “The dad’s in jail . . . and they think he did it? Oh, man.”

  That night at campfire Bucky made a point of sitting next to Alex. After the events of the past twelve hours, it was hard not to feel protective, almost fatherly, toward the bruised little camper. The orange flicker and muted snap of the flames seemed to create a mood of peace in the middle of the current confusion.

  “Bedtime, guys. Let’s sack out.” Wearily Bucky pulled off his Nikes, glancing over at Jason. “That was some fancy skiing out there, men. Good job. And old Alex here is a whiz at leather-craft. You guys’ll have to see what he’s come up with.”

  The lights in the cabin flickered off, but Bucky couldn’t extinguish his racing thoughts. What was going to happen to Alex? Was his dad really an abusive kidnapper – who had managed to brainwash his own kid before dumping him off at an out - of - the - way church camp?

  When Bucky tried to pray, the confusion of the day, combined with his fatigue, made it almost impossible to concentrate. “Just help me, Lord,” he murmured.

  Long minutes went by while he lay awake in the still darkness. He thought about Lisa, hundreds of miles away in Seattle. She’d always been the one person who could understand his moments of greatest frustration.

  The idea came to him without warning. Is it too late to call her?

  He peered through the inky darkness of the cabin, illuminated only by the sliver of moonlight poking its way through the window. It sounded like all the guys were asleep by now. Ten-thirty p.m. Should he?

  After lying motionless for several minutes, he finally made up his mind. Slipping on a pair of jeans, he edged to the door and out into the moonlight, shivering slightly as he walked a few yards away and pulled his cell phone out.

  Just as he dialed, he remembered the mocking tune of Lisa’s mother informing him about her daughter’s date with some other guy. Should he still call?

  The staccato ring on the other end sounded harsh, as if to remind him that it really was pretty late. For a second he almost snapped his phone shut, then resolutely forced himself to stay on the line.

  “Steve? Is that you? What took you so long?”

  Bucky gulped as he recognized Lisa’s voice. “No. I mean, hi. This is Bucky.”

  “What?” The girl on the other end of the line was obviously flustered. “Bucky? Sorry ‘bout that – I didn’t see my caller ID. But . . . I mean, why are you calling? Is everything OK?”

  As he stood there he could feel his throat tightening. “Well, I just kind of felt like talking to you.” He swallowed hard. “I guess maybe you were waiting for somebody else to call.”

  “Well, yeah. Sort of. That’s OK, though,” she stammered. “Where are you? It’s kind of late.”

  “Well, right now I’m out in the woods about 150 miles away from home.” Quickly he told her about his summer at the Christian camp.

  “Oh.” A long silence. “My mom said you called a couple of weeks ago, but I never got around to calling back. Sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s OK.” He tried to at least seem calm. “Half the time I can’t get a signal anyway. But no big deal – I had just called to say hi, but you were out.”

  “Oh, I . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “So how’s it goin’?”

  Another pause. “Good, I guess. I mean, I’ve got a summer job at a fabric store here.”

  “That’s nice.” The specter of Steve seemed to hang over every word. “I mean, I better get back to my guys. I shouldn’t leave them all by themselves.”

  She took a breath. “Bucky, I . . .”

  He waited.

  “I guess just to be fair, I should tell you something.” Another pause. “Well, I’m kind of going with a guy up here.” She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “His name’s Steve.”

  “Yeah.” Bucky tried to keep it light. “I kind of figured that out.”

  “How?” She blurted it out without thinking.

  “Well, your mom pretty much gave it away when I called last time. Plus just now . . .”

  “Oh.”

  “Hey.” He swallowed hard. “It’s OK. I mean, really. You and I had a great time, but now you’re up there and I’m down here and everything. So I’m . . . glad for you. Really.”

  Her voice softened. “Oh, Bucky. I didn’t want to tell you or anything. I guess you know how that is.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  “And I’ll always remember the stuff we did together and everything. And going to church with you.”

  Bucky tried to choke back the empty feeling forming inside him. “Well, listen, good luck and everything. I really did . . . I mean, I ready liked you.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  A light bulb flickered, then went out just as he hung up. It wasn’t until halfway back to the cabin that he realized he hadn’t talked with Lisa about Alex and his current dilemma.

  For several long minutes, he stood out in the shivering darkness, leaning against a tree with the sharp edg
es of the bark digging into his skin. Lisa and Steve. Slowly he turned away, giving the side of the tree a frustrated little pop! with his fist before going back into the cabin.

  Dear God . . . The words wouldn’t come as he climbed back into his bed. Always in the back of his mind there had been Lisa to hold on to, a friend who could understand the things he was feeling in his heart. Now maybe that was gone.

  “No! Don’t take me there! Don’t hurt . . .”

  What was that? Confused, Bucky sat up in bed, dazed by the desperately muffled shouts. He stared through the darkness. Across the room he could see somebody thrashing about in one of the bunks.

  “Alex?” He rushed to the side of the boy who was now moaning incoherently. “Are you OK?”

  Breathing heavily, the child sat up in bed. Tearstains had streaked across his face. “Where . . . where am I?”

  “Here at camp. With me and the other boys.”

  “But my mom . . .”

  “No, just us. Your folks aren’t here.”

  He began to cry softly. “I thought that she would . . .”

  “Hurt you again?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Bucky brushed the boy’s hair away from his perspiring forehead. In the darkness he could see Jason and Gordie peering down at them. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered to them.

  “Mr. Stone?”

  “Yeah, Alex.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know. But it was just a dream. You’re OK now.”

  After sinking back down into his sleeping bag, Alex twisted slightly until he could see his counselor’s face. “Can you stay here for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He stayed by the bedside, his hand resting gently on the boy’s shoulder until Alex finally went back to sleep.

  Chapter Eleven: An Unexpected Visitor

  A blanket of gray clouds overhead seemed to add to Bucky’s sense of foreboding as he struggled out of bed Friday morning. His usual early walk and prayer time seemed gripped by the painful little saga unfolding right in his own cabin. He prayed for several minutes that God would protect Alex from whatever might come.