Friends for Life

by Cindy Combs

  "Poor kid."

  "It gets worse. Even though Buck hasn't been able to remember anything about who pushed him, someone attempted to hurt him at the hospital. The PD there fear the killer thinks the kid saw him, though it was so dark on that stairwell, I'm surprised Buck could see well enough to find the apartment. Add in all the crap coming out in the papers about the kid's mother, my friend and I decided it was better simply to get him out of town. Since Grace and I had fostered kids when she was alive, we were able to make the arrangements for me to take him."

  "What about his mother?"

  "They lost her in the ambulance. Real shame. She was only 33 and a very beautiful woman judging from her pictures. Apparently, she was a well-liked single mother with no other family. Everyone said she was absolutely dedicated to Buck. I can tell she did a good job, because Buck's a terrific kid. The problem is that to support herself and her son, she was a lead dancer in a topless show."

  "Ah, damn. I bet the papers are having a field day."

  "Yeah. And that kid's too badly hurt and grieving to handle it."

  In the silence that followed, Chris quietly thought over what he had just heard. It explained so much, though the idea of someone's mom dancing topless was kinda weird. However, Chris knew how hard his own Dad worked to support him, and Billy Wilson's mom needed government help on top of two menial jobs to support her family.

  "Well, if you ever need to have someone look after Buck, just send him over. He and Chris seem to have hit it off."

  "I'd appreciate it, Mike. Buck's been alone too much lately. I've tried to make time for him, but I'm still catching up from my break. Unfortunately, the crooks don't take vacation."

  Deciding he'd eavesdropped enough, Chris made himself casually walk in. "Hey Dad. Any cake left?"

  "A few pieces," Mike replied. He waved at the huge man sitting at the counter with him. "Chris, this is Captain Paul Ricker. He's Buck's foster father and we went to school together. Paul, this is my son, Chris."

  "Hello, sir," Chris greeted politely. "Buck's asleep in the living room. I can go wake him up if you like."

  "I'd appreciate that, son. And thanks for taking care of him this afternoon."

  "Not a problem." Chris gave him a smug smile. "Buck wasn't doing too bad by himself. If he hadn't had his arm in a sling, I think he would have finished off Deke without a scratch."

  A few minutes later, Chris was back with a droopy-eyed Buck, carrying his backpack for him. Ricker smiled at the teen. "Ready to go?"

  Buck nodded. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Larabee," he added politely.

  "Anytime, Buck."

  Ricker took the backpack and gently guided the sleepy Buck with a hand on his back.

  "See you tomorrow in History," Chris called after them.

  Once the car had left the driveway, Mike quietly asked, "How much did you hear?"

  Blushing with guilt, Chris admitted, "That Buck's mom was murdered, and Buck was hurt by the killer."

  Mike nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

  "I remember how I felt when Mom died while you were out at sea." Seeing the pain in his father's eyes, Chris rushed ahead. "And I'm angry, wondering why anyone would kill a woman, no matter what she did for a living." Chris paused, taking a breath. "Wondering what I can do to make it easier on Buck."

  A swell of pride filled Mike's chest. His son was growing up into a decent man before his eyes. "Whenever a buddy is hurting, son, all you can do is protect his backside until he's ready to face the world again. With Buck cut off from all his buddies back home, he's going to need a friend here. But I do want you to make me a promise." Chris tilted his head to the side and nodded. "I want you to keep an eye out whenever you and Buck are together. If you see anyone suspicious hanging around, get Buck to a place with lots of people and call the police."

  "Just in case his mom's killer tracks him here?" Chris asked.

  "Right."

  "Will do." Chris felt a rise of determination within his soul. He would not let Buck be hurt anymore if he could help it.

  * * *

  Late October, 1975

  Chris dribbled the ball back and forth between his hands. With a fake to the left, he spun past the skinny Billy Wilson, then sent a hard bouncing pass around Jake Merl to Buck, who with his long frame easily made the lay-up. "Game point!" he enthused.

  "Ah man," Jake complained. "You two are going to clean up at the try-outs next week."

  Buck smiled in pleasure. It felt good to have his shoulder back up to speed. "Yeah, we're gonna go down town." He winked at Joanie Wilson, who was waiting for her brother. She giggled at the attention.

  Chris chuckled as he walked to his bag. He liked to see Buck having fun. The darkness that had dogged his friend when they had first met was finally easing, revealing a friendly and energetic personality that balanced Chris' more introverted tendencies. Buck had even managed to drag Chris to a dance last week, a feat never accomplished before. It had pleased Chris' father to no end.

  Yanking out his water bottle, Chris noticed a dark LTD sitting around the block from their outdoor court. Thinking a moment, he realized he had seen the same car at the school yesterday. He took a deep drink from the bottle as he covertly memorized the license plate.

  "Hey Larabee, ready to go?" Buck asked eagerly as he patted him on the shoulder.

  Chris took a moment to swallow his water and think. He didn't want to scare Buck, or worse, remind him of his mother's death. Yet he had promised his father he'd stay aware and he certainly didn't want anything to happen to Buck. "How about we hit King Soops on our way to your place?"

  "Sure," Buck readily agreed. "We could pick up some of those pre-made pizzas for dinner." He lifted his face to the blue sky. "Besides, might as well enjoy the sunshine while I keep waiting for one of those Colorado snowstorms you keep telling me about." Buck had seen it snow once in Nevada, but it had been so magical, he was looking forward to seeing it again.

  Chris chuckled again as he tossed Buck his jacket. "Don't worry. It'll snow soon, then be all melted three days later." He resisted the urge to look at the car again as he led Buck through the park and towards the main through-road. The teen then purposely dropped his keys, allowing him an excuse to look behind him. The car had circled the park and was back on their tails.

  "What's wrong, Chris," Buck asked softly, picking up on his friend's tension.

  "Don't look, but there's a dark blue LTD following us from the park."

  Buck nodded, then jokingly spun, bouncing the basketball to Chris. After receiving both the ball and a glare from Chris, Buck casually dropped back beside his friend. "Yeah, I see it. You know, it looks kinda familiar."

  "I saw it yesterday when we got out of school," Chris suggested.

  Buck's brow wrinkled as he thought. "Come to think of it, it was parked near the Wilson's last night when Ricker picked me up.

  "Damn," Chris quietly swore. He suddenly remembered seeing it there, too.

  In a very quiet voice, Buck reluctantly admitted, "Chris, my mom was killed in Las Vegas, and the cops think I might have seen the murderer."

  "I know," Chris softly assured him. At Buck's astonished look, Chris explained, "I overheard Dad and Ricker talking one night." Taking a deep breath, Chris asked, "Is Ricker home?"

  Buck shook his head. "He had to check in this morning on some investigations."

  "Then let's get to a phone and call him."

  The next block was one of the longest Buck had ever walked. Every muscle in his body tightened, pleading to give in to his flight response. His back prickled, waiting for an attack from the dark shape he vaguely remembered. Images of his mother on the stretcher, paramedics trying to stop the dark blood soaking her blouse and shorts, flashed across his vision. The only thing that kept him from running in terror was the anchoring presence by his side. Chris gave Buck the calm courage to walk without giving away their suspicions to their hunter.

  Still, it was a relief to see the red and white s
ign of the local grocery store. Even better to walk through its sliding doors to the safety within. However, Buck didn't take his first real breath until Ricker answered the phone.

  * * *

  Chris sat next to Buck in the manager's office, waiting for Ricker to pick them up. He felt his stomach clench as he glanced at his friend. The quiet Buck was back, his blue eyes dark and stormy. Chris could almost see the grief straining to get out. He didn't like to see his friend hurting so bad. He just didn't know what to do to help.

  Both teens looked up when Ricker walked in. Quietly, Chris asked, "Did you catch him?"

  Sitting in the chair opposite the boys, Ricker shook his head. "Took off as soon as he spotted the patrol car." He comfortingly squeezed both boys' shoulders, rubbing Buck's until the youth raised sad eyes to meet his. "You did the right thing, coming here and calling me. Can you tell me anything else about the car or the driver."

  "Couldn't see the driver," Chris reported, shaking his head. "The windows were too dark. The license was Colorado, FHI-347."

  "Had a circular crack in the windshield on the passenger's side," Buck quietly remembered, "and I think the antenna was slightly bent near the top."

  "And you're sure you saw it at the school yesterday?" Ricker asked.

  Chris nodded. Buck shrugged. "I really didn't see it at the school, but I saw it at the Wilson's. Just didn't think anything of it at the time."

  "Nothing really clicked until I saw it at the park." Chris looked Ricker in the eye. "What now?"

  Giving his ward's shoulder another squeeze, Ricker gently explained, "I'm taking you two home. Until we find this car, I don't want you out in the open, okay son?"

  Buck nodded, again not speaking. Chris could see his own worry about his friend reflected in the veteran cop's eyes.

  * * *

  Two days later, high school

  Chris glanced across the aisle. Buck sat slouched, his growing frame already straining the small high school chairs. The dark cloud that had reappeared Saturday was still hanging over him. Even though History was Buck's favorite subject, Chris was willing to bet his friend had not heard a word of Miss Ingle's talk. He'd also bet that Buck had been stuck in Ricker's condo all weekend, dwelling on his mother's death.

  Buck's gloom matched the weather outside. As always, Front Range weather was fickle. In spite of the sunshine and 78 degree temperatures of yesterday, a cold front had back-doored into the state during the night, bringing with it freezing temperatures and boiling clouds. Chris watched as snow hit the classroom window. He glanced back at Buck. His friend hadn't noticed yet, and he wasn't even sure Buck would care anymore. But it was worth a shot.

  When the bell rang, Chris lightly kicked Buck's ankle. At Buck's puzzled frown, Chris grinned and nodded towards the window. Buck glanced at the window, then back at Chris. "What's that?"

  "Snow."

  "Snow?" Buck's eyes widened as he stood up and walked over for a closer look. The snow he remembered had been light flakes, drifting lazily through the air. This looked more like huge white clumps, hitting the ground as hard and as fast as possible. "I thought snow came down in little flakes."

  Chris smiled as he joined him. "This is the heavy, wet stuff we get in the fall or spring."

  Buck couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Man, I can't even see the cars in the parking lot from here."

  "Hopefully, it lets up soon." Chris glanced at the clock. "If the wind starts blowing, we could be in for a blizzard." He stepped back to his chair to grab his book and papers.

  "A blizzard?" Buck repeated as he followed. He had only read about such storms. He couldn't even imagine being in one. His eyes were round with awe as he followed Chris out the door.

  "Maybe." Chris quietly smiled to himself. Apparently, someone upstairs was also trying to cheer up Buck.

  * * *

  By lunchtime, the snow was still falling heavily and the superintendent decided it was better to send kids home than risk getting stuck at school. Closing his locker, Chris spotted Buck at one of the pay phones. He trotted over and tapped his friend on the shoulder. He silently mouthed, "What's up?"

  Buck sighed and pulled the phone away from his mouth. "I'm not suppose to go home without an escort, but the police are so busy with the weather, Ricker can't find anyone to pick me up."

  Chris thought a moment. He really didn't want Buck to sit alone at Ricker's condo, either. "Why don't you come home with me? With this storm, Buckley's sure to shut down to essential personnel, so Dad ought to be home soon himself."

  Relaying the information, a small smile slipped across Buck's face. "Really? Thanks, Ricker." Buck hung up the phone and turned. "He says it'll be okay."

  "Cool. Let's get going before even the Bronco can't get through." Then Chris paused, looking at the light windbreaker Buck wore. "That's not your only jacket, is it?"

  "Yeah. Why?"

  Chris could only shake his head at the bewildered face. "We'll have to work on that."

  "Work on what?" Buck asked as he picked up his bag and followed Chris out the doors. His question was answered by a blast of cold, outside air. Buck nearly slipped on the sidewalk in his rush to reach the comparable warmth of Chris' vehicle.

  The ride was also an eye-opener for the former Las Vegas resident. It was the first time he had seen Chris put the Bronco into four wheel drive, and even the added traction wasn't much use on the slick pavement. While the intentional donuts in the parking lot were fun, the unintentional fishtails on the main road were not. Wide-eyed, Buck studied the snow covered trees, lights, cars and signs. It was like magic to see everything blanketed in white.

  Once Chris pulled into the ranch's circle drive, he glanced at the empty spaces. "Doesn't look like Dad's home, and Sofia's probably stuck at her sister's."

  Buck watched, fascinated, as snow began to pile up on the windshield. "This is so cool."

  "Yeah, as in freezing." Chris lightly hit Buck in the shoulder as he reached for his gym bag. "I'll dig up one of Dad's old coats, then you can help me make sure the barn's secured."

  "Cool," Buck repeated as he climbed out of the Bronco. He swiftly, yet carefully, picked his way through the snowdrifts as he followed Chris inside. Neither teen noticed the dark car carefully parking down the lane.

  * * *

  Chris turned from latching the main barn door. His father's old winter coat hung loosely on his friend, but Buck didn't seem to mind. In fact, Buck was almost back to normal, brushing clumps of snow out of his hair and forming a melting ball with it. It didn't take a genius to see the gleam in the blue eyes and figure out the young man's plans. Then suddenly, Chris noticed a dark shape slipping between hay bales, positioning itself behind the unaware teen. "Buck! Move!"

  Startled, Buck jumped to the right, flinging the snow. An arm holding a large hunting knife sliced the air where his back had been just moments before. With a yelp, Buck grabbed the twine of a nearby bale and hefted it towards the figure. As the sound of a body hitting the ground thumped in his ears, Chris grabbed Buck's arm. They dashed up the narrow wooden ladder into the hay loft. By the time the intruder had pushed back the bale and followed the teens, they had disappeared.

  As the man's cowboy boots thudded against the wooden loft floor, Chris quietly memorized the pale features from his narrow viewpoint. He and Buck had managed to slide under the wooden pallet set on four large bricks in the corner. There was barely enough space for them to fit, but with the loose hay surrounding them, Chris was certain the bastard couldn't see them. Feeling Buck start to tremble next to him, Chris tightened his grip around his waist. If they could stay silent and still, they had a chance.

  Next to him, Buck bit his lip. With his cheek pressed against the rough wood, his main view was of the man's boots. It was enough. Suddenly, Buck recognized the dark leather and the silver chains draped over the top. Those were the boots he had seen the night he had laid at the bottom of the stairs, too stunned to move after his fall. They were the boots of his mother's
killer. Of its own accord, Buck's body started to tremble as the horrors of that night replayed in his mind. Then a comforting squeeze penetrated the pain. Chris was with him. He couldn't allow himself to do anything that would bring the killer's attention to his friend. Buck's bite on his lip drew blood as he forced his body to still.

  Together, the teens silently watched as the man grabbed a pitchfork and began to poke at the hay bales that filled most of the area. They barely breathed as the ring of metal hitting the wood near the pallet rang in their ears. Chris prayed with all his heart that the pitchfork wasn't strong enough to break their protection.

  Then they heard another sound. "Chris! Buck! You in here?" It was Michael Larabee.

  Chris felt his stomach clench. He couldn't let the invader reach his dad unaware. Next to him, the thought of his mother's killer hurting Mr. Larabee struck Buck even harder. The two young men exchanged looks, the same thought bouncing back and forth from each mind. They waited until their hunter had moved forward towards the sound, then in synchronized motion, they lifted and threw the pallet at him.

  "Dad! The killer's here!" Chris shouted. He gave Buck a shove towards the ladder, picking up the pitch fork as Buck scrambled down the rungs. Hitting the pallet with the tool to provide them a few extra seconds, Chris then tossed it aside and scurried after Buck.

  Chris' foot had barely touched the soft dirt when an arm latched onto him and yanked him to the left. He found himself tight against his father's side, Buck similarly protected on the other. To the right, he heard Ricker's voice. "Freeze! Arvada PD!"

  "I don't want any trouble, officer," a greasy voice announced. Chris felt his father's arms tighten even harder as steps eased down the ladder. Then two sharp shots penetrated the air. A knife landed at Buck's feet just moments before a body fell into a heap at the foot of the ladder.