A faint whimper underneath the tangle of dead dogs and severed limbs cuts through the silence. Officer Clancy lifts away one of the dog carcasses to find another dog beneath, mortally wounded and bleeding profusely but clinging to life. Several gaping holes in its body give gruesome glimpses of its organs, no chance it will survive.
The wounded dog lifts pitiful eyes to Officer Clancy, mustering only a soft whimper, death climbing its trembling body, tightening its embrace. Officer Clancy kneels and pets the suffering dog’s head.
“Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, girl.”
A tear rolls down Officer Clancy’s cheek as he unsheathes his service weapon and takes aim. A loud bang breaks the silence and echoes through the forest.
The light rain ceases, but small droplets of water fall from the leaves above to the forest floor. The men, soaked through by the sudden thunderstorm, trudge around in their heavy uniforms, carrying on with their work without complaint.
Detective Holt scans the surrounding woods, hairs lifting on the nape of his neck. His eyes flit to the trees to his left, his hand finding his holstered pistol as his eyes work through the rest of the tree line in Grief Hollow. Nothing out of the ordinary that he can place, but a chill travels through him. Holt flinches at Morrow’s voice.
“Let’s see if we can find some bear tracks.”
The men kneel, sifting through the debris on the forest floor. They work with swift determination, uncovering large patches of the ground to the damp earth. Officer Clancy shifts a large pile of leaves with his fingertips and hits something solid.
“Got something here, Holt. It looks like John Watson’s rifle, but it’s all twisted up.” Officer Clancy lifts the rifle from the earth.
The steel barrel of the rifle is twisted like a child’s curly straw. Three spent shell casings line the ground near the spot where Officer Clancy found the rifle.
“Looks like the rifle jammed. Holt, there’s some kind of oily black stuff on the stock.” Officer Clancy changes his grip to hold the twisted barrel instead.
“Let’s see that.”
Detective Holt examines the rifle, his eyes still making momentary stabs at the tree line. Officer Clancy brushes his hand and fingertips on his pant leg, cleaning off the black smudges while Detective Holt studies the rifle. The black goo looks similar to the substance they found on the brown backpack. But how can this be Sammy and Myron’s work? Sammy’s a degenerate, sure, but his eyes… He was telling the truth at the station. He wasn’t in the woods with that backpack. Got to be connected though. Myron? Maybe so. Detective Holt shakes his head. Can’t see how he would’ve done all this though.
Detective Holt lifts the stock of the rifle near his nose and sniffs the black oily substance. No discernable odor, but its tackiness clings to his fingers. He pulls a glass vial from his jacket pocket and retrieves the wooden cotton swab from inside. After collecting a small glob of the oily substance, he puts the cotton swab inside the vial and closes it.
Officer Morrow nods in the direction of the rifle. “Whatcha make of that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Officer Clancy shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe the bear got it twisted up against the tree or something and bent it all up.”
“Maybe.” Detective Holt draws in his lips. “But there’s not a scratch on it.”
“Strange,” Officer Morrow replies.
Detective Holt squints at several bare patches of earth and surveys the surrounding forest floor.
“You guys see any bear tracks when you moved those leaves?”
Officer Clancy shakes his head, lips tucked in a frown. “No. Not a one.”
“Me neither.”
“Let’s see if we can’t find some.” Detective Holt lays the rifle on the ground and begins clearing the leaves from more areas. Something seems wrong. Bear tracks. Got to be bear tracks.
The other men join and sift through the leaves. As Officer Morrow steps closer to Copperhead Creek, he scoops his arm across the ground and sends a pile of leaves plummeting from the steep bank.
“Well, that’s odd.”
“What’s that?” Detective Holt continues sifting through leaves, never lifting his head, still chasing an explanation.
“There’s some big animal tracks here, but they’re not bear tracks. Not sure what to make of it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they look like the tracks of a chicken. Like a giant, four-hundred-pound chicken.”
Officer Clancy’s eyes perk. “Hey, not that this matters, but isn’t John Watson a chicken farmer?”
“Yeah, he is. Let me see that.” Detective Holt joins Officer Morrow to inspect the tracks. Several large indentations, patterned like the innards of a peace symbol, appear compacted into the soggy earth. Gouges at the tips of the toes extend several inches deep. Claw marks? Holt rubs his temple and frowns. “Clancy, I want you to make sure we get a cast of this.”
“You got it, Holt.”
“Marcy, you there? Over.”
“Yes, I’m here, Holt. What you need?”
“Can you send for Mr. Latrell? Over.”
“Mr. Latrell? You mean the coroner?”
“Yes, have Mr. Latrell meet us down here in Grief Hollow. Over.”
“Oh no. Did you guys find that poor girl?”
“No, not Margo. It’s John Watson. We may have had some kind of animal attack. It’s hard to say. I’m not really sure. Can you also call someone from the State Fish and Wildlife Service in? We’re going to need to have them examine the body. Over.”
“I’ll call them both now. Over.”
The three men stand there for a few minutes, studying the gruesome scene, trying to piece something together. But the pieces aren’t coming together, they’re falling away, fragmented and misaligned. None of it makes any sense. Officer Morrow’s a thirty-year veteran officer, but he’s never seen anything similar. His stomach grows queasy. The walkie-talkie breaks the silence.
“Holt, Mr. Latrell is on his way. The State said they can have someone out here by tomorrow. Over.”
“Thanks, Marcy. Over.”
Chapter 15
The Dare
MY MOM DELIVERS a tray of hot chocolates. “Here you go, boys.”
“Thanks, mom.” I grab a mug.
Tee and Robby respond in unison. “Thanks, Mrs. Raker.”
My mom smiles and walks away. I snicker at the clothes I loaned Tee and Robby to wear after my mom threw our drenched clothing in the dryer. I’m not sure who looks funnier. My T-shirt swallows Tee like a gown. The shorts extend a few inches past his knees like some kind of hybrid between pants and shorts.
Robby can barely fit into my clothing. The shirt doesn’t even reach his waistband, creating a gap of several inches that exposes his stomach. I grin. The shorts pay homage to old basketball movies, ending above his mid-thigh.
I motion to the basement door with my eyes and keep my voice to a whisper. “Downstairs.”
We file out of the room as silent as a funeral procession, descending the staircase to the basement, making our way to a round poker table where we all take a seat. Tee breaks the silence.
“Somebody wanna tell me what happened back there?”
The memory of what transpired replays in my mind. “I don’t know. I heard four gunshots, I think.”
Robby shakes his head. “Three. There were three gunshots.”
“Who in the world was shooting? And who… or what were they shooting at?” Tee shakes his head slowly. “I mean, I thought we were supposed to be looking for Margo, not shooting at her.”
Robby gets up from his chair and paces. “I don’t think it was the police. I could still see all of them when we heard the shots.”
“What about Mr. Wadlow? That was weird. He ran off in the middle of the search party.”
“Definitely strange. He picked something up and put it in his pocket before he took off running. You saw it too, Tee. But those shots came from Grief Hollow. That’s not the direction he ran in.”
&n
bsp; “Could’ve changed direction after we lost sight of him. But I don’t know how he could’ve gotten so far ahead of us. Then again, he was running.”
Robby wears the carpet thin, traveling in the same six-foot path. “Did you guys see what he picked up?”
Tee gives a subtle shake of his head. “Couldn’t really tell. Looked like something small and white, but the end was black, I think.”
“It was skinny. But I didn’t get a good look at it either.”
Robby pivots, reversing his walking direction. “The question’s why would he pick something up in the woods in the middle of a search party and then run off?”
“Maybe he’s got something to do with Margo being missing.” Tee rolls his hands over to his open palms. “Maybe it was like evidence or something.”
“I don’t know. But whatever it was, he didn’t want anyone else to see. Did you see how he looked all around to see if anyone was watching him?”
“Yeah, then he put that thing in his pocket and ran. That guy’s up to something for sure.”
Robby comes to an abrupt stop. “We should follow him.”
My startled eyes meet Robby’s.
“Follow him? That guy’s creepy. Bad idea!”
“You said yourself, he was acting strange. And I’d say suspicious. He might lead us to Mysterious Margo.”
“Or lead us to our death.” I cut eyes to Robby. His facial expression remains unchanged. He’s serious. “Robby, that’s the police’s job.”
“Relax, Brooks. We’re just going to follow him. You know, from a safe distance. He won’t see us. Let’s just find out what he’s up to.”
“Yeah, Brooks. Let’s figure this thing out. Gonna be heroes. Then, I’m gonna ask out Heavenly Everly. And she’s going to say yes.” Tee raises both of his arms like a referee signaling a touchdown in a football game.
Robby snickers at Tee. “Not dressed like that, she’s not.”
“You’ll see.” Tee grins, standing up. He grabs the ends of the shirt, billows it out like a skirt and twirls. We all snicker.
“You’re so stupid, Tee.” Robby wears a persistent grin. A few moments of silence pass before he lifts his head. “What about Brady Palmer?”
Tee draws the corner of his lip. “What about ‘em? Kid’s a weirdo. I think juvie may’ve messed his head up good. I mean, what was he talking about?”
“Yeah. But that was weird. All that talk about Grief Hollow.” I check both boys’ eyes but find Tee’s dismissive.
Robby shakes his head, expelling a deep breath. “‘It can be what it wants to be.’ What’s that even mean?”
“Means the kid spent too many years in juvie. I’m telling you, man. The guy’s got issues.” Tee circles his index finger around his ear.
“Yeah, but something’s up with Grief Hollow. The snake thing I saw. Now today. Maybe he knows something.”
“That big can of crazy? Dude’s nuts! Bet he doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.”
Robby frowns at Tee. “Well, what’s up with people disappearing? First, Margo does it on you yesterday. Where’d Brady go?”
I shake my head twice. “Looked away when I heard the dogs yelping. That’s the last time I saw him.”
Robby nods. “Yeah, me too.”
“Okay, so he’s crazy, and quick. Doesn’t mean anything. So, what if he’s the fastest nut in the nuthouse.” Tee’s joke elicits a snicker from me and Robby.
Robby pauses from his pacing. “Speaking of quick, one of those dogs almost knocked me over.”
“Me too!”
Tee’s eyes widen. “Now that was weird.”
“My dad used to take me deer hunting. I’ve never seen trained hunting dogs do anything like that.”
I nod at Robby. “Those dogs were scared. Did you see how they all had their tails tucked? I mean, they would’ve run through a tree if it was in front of them.”
“I still think the answer to all of this has got something to do with Mr. Wadlow.” Robby checks our eyes for agreement.
“It’s a start.”
“Maybe. What he did back there doesn’t make any sense. But what are we supposed to do? I mean, really.” I swivel out both of my palms. “Not like we can just go up to him and say, ‘Hey, Mr. Wadlow, what’d you do with Mysterious Margo?’”
“No man, it’s like Robby said. We follow him. See what he does.”
“Sounds risky. What if he did do something to her?” I take a deliberative pause. “What if he does the same thing to us?”
“This is covert ops. Like Cloak of Assassins. He’s not even going to know we’re there.” Robby mimics operating a controller, his grinning eyes landing on me.
“Dude, that’s a video game. This is real life. Our life!”
“Chillax man. It’s going to be fine.” Robby’s grin deepens as I shift in my chair.
“Yeah, man. Plus, we got the N.C.B. with us.”
I shake my head. “What’s the N.C.B.?”
“Nut Cracker Brooks!” Tee and Robby crack up laughing.
“Funny, but I’m serious.”
“I’m serious, too. If Mr. Wadlow messes with us, we’ll have the N.C.B. take care of him. Crush his nards.” Robby chuckles at Tee’s joke, grinning at him.
I flash big eyes and frown. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“We’re doing it,” Robby blurts out in an overbearing tone.
“No. I’m not.”
“Oh yes you are.” There’s no hesitation in Robby’s delivery.
“Yeah, I dare you to, Brooks.”
“What do you even mean? That’s a stupid dare. This could be dangerous.” I shift in my seat, eyes volleying between Robby and Tee.
Robby clears his throat. “Remember the rules. If another member of the Markland X Crew dares you to do something, you have to do it.”
“But I can’t. My mom’s going to kill me.”
“Your mom’s not even going to know.”
“But it’s a stupid idea. And a dumb dare.”
“Didn’t say it wouldn’t be a dumb dare, and you agreed to the rules, Brooks.” Robby lifts his brows at me as if testing my loyalty to the Markland X Crew.
A windup grin forms on Tee’s face. “Yeah. Refuse a dare and you go bare!”
“Guys, we’re not going to find anything out.”
“I say we make him go bare in front of Heavenly Everly, Robby.”
My face becomes a furnace at the mention of Alyssa Everly and me going nude, heat pouring into my cheeks. My recurring dream bobs to the surface of my consciousness, its scenes assaulting my mind: standing in the school hallway unaware of my own nudity, approaching her at her locker, regurgitating my memorized lines asking her to the dance. The change of her expression, the uncontrollable laughter, the terrible pointing, the humiliation. It’s too much. I wince. Robby grins at the terror in my eyes. They own me and he knows it. I’m screwed.
“So, it’s settled then.” Robby slaps his palm on the table.
“Yeah, let’s find out what that Wadlow creep is up to. He lives right there on High Street.”
I take a deep breath and accept that I’ve lost. “Okay. So, what’s the plan?”
Chapter 16
New Neighbor
MY MOM GREETS us as we emerge from the basement. “Oh, there you are boys.”
She’s standing near a pretty woman with jet-black hair and a boy who looks to be around our age. The woman smiles at Tee, Robby and I. Cherry-red headphones dangle from the boy’s neck. He seems foreign to me with his tan skin juxtaposed against my alabaster complexion. And no way he escaped Culver’s Barber Shop with that long bleach blonde hairdo intact. Several wavy strands dip past his eyes to the tops of his cheeks, and the longer hair in the back collects on his shoulders—not the style in Harper Pass. Though slender, his arm and leg muscles show definition, the kind of body tone that eludes most boys our age.
“Boys, I want you to meet the Trask’s. This is Mrs. Trask and her son, Devin.” My mom
gestures for us to come forward.
Devin gives a quick head nod and a little half-smile as he surveys the funny fitting clothes that Robby and Tee are wearing. Devin’s wearing some dark blue board shorts and a white Volcom T-shirt, a strange ensemble for Harper Pass.
“Boys, Devin just moved in next-door in the old Ellis place. They’re from San Diego, California. Brooks, Mrs. Trask tells me Devin’s going to be in seventh grade next year, too.”
“Cool. Hey, Devin.” I give him a small wave before trying to get to the business at hand. “Mom, we’re going to go back out to play. Okay?”
“Oh, that’s great. Tee and Robby’s clothes just finished drying.” Guess she hasn’t heard about what happened at the search party yet. My mom turns to Mrs. Trask. “The boys got caught in a rainstorm earlier. You boys can show Devin around the neighborhood.”
My mom always does this. Going out of her way to welcome new neighbors. She did this with Mark Crudleman and his mom when they moved onto the street. Her eyes fix on mine. This isn’t debatable. The other boys sense it, too. At least now we won’t have to follow Mr. Wadlow. No telling what he’s done. Or might do. And this kid looks okay. Strange, but okay. This worked out perfect. I smile.
“Here you go boys.” My mom hands them their dry clothes. “Why don’t you boys go ahead and get changed? One of you can use the half bath there, and the other can get changed in Brooks’ room.” She directs Tee and Robby in opposite directions.
My mom continues making small talk with Mrs. Trask. Devin flashes me a momentary smile, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Looks nervous. Probably should try to talk to him. Bet he feels weird with mom inserting him into our group.
“Hey, man, I’m Brooks.” I extend my hand for a shake.
Devin swings his hand, hitting my hand on the palm with his palm, following through before reversing his swing in the opposite direction, tapping my hand a second time. That’s a weird shake.
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