by Helen Lacey
* * *
Late Friday afternoon the following week, Mitch took a call from Hank saying that a child had gone missing at the base of Kegg’s Mountain and they needed help finding him. Shanook, clearly sensing something was wrong, was by Mitch’s side the moment he grabbed his backpack and hiking boots, and within ten minutes they were on the road. He arrived at the camp in the recreational park at the bottom of the mountain around four o’clock, and Hank met him by the base that had been set up near several emergency services vehicles.
“Thanks for coming,” his brother said, and shook his hand. “We estimate he’s been missing for about five hours. He’s seven years old, name’s Emmett. He was fishing by the creek, his father fell asleep, curious kid wandered off... You get the picture. There were a few candy wrappers around the edge of creek, but we’ve no evidence to suggest he’s gone into the water. I’ve had Willa Moon here with her hounds, but they haven’t picked up any trace.” Hank ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I wish we had more daylight.”
Mitch looked up at the late afternoon sky. It would be dark soon. And it was cold. And Kegg’s Mountain was no place for a lost child. “We’ll find him. Can I speak to his parents?”
His brother nodded and led the way to an ambulance where two clearly distraught people were hovering by the rear door. Hank introduced him, and Mitch asked a few questions about the child and then requested a piece of his clothing, specifically something he’d recently worn. The mother disappeared for a few minutes and while she was gone, the father, a man in his late twenties, quickly blamed himself for failing his son.
“What kind of a father am I? I can’t protect my own kid. I should be out looking for my son right now instead of standing around talking. What if he’s...” The younger man’s words trailed off and Mitch spent the next minute reassuring him.
“If he’s on the mountain, Shanook will find him,” he said, motioning to the dog at his side. “The best thing you can do is comfort your wife. She’s doesn’t need to see you falling apart.”
Maybe she does...
Maybe that was Mitch’s number-one failing as a husband. He was so wrapped up in being a pillar of strength for his grieving wife, he’d forgotten how to really feel anguish and pain and bone-aching grief. Tess had done all the feeling. All the grieving. And he’d tried to rally his strength and be there for her instead of falling to pieces.
Too late now...
They were over. She couldn’t have spelled it out any clearer. He’d stolen her hope and her dreams, and she couldn’t forgive him. He didn’t need to hear that again in a hurry. They would be parents to their son, and that was all. She would get married to someone else. That’s what she wanted. The love they’d once shared would be a dim memory.
And it hurt. It hurt so much he could barely breathe thinking about it.
He pushed away the thought when the man’s young wife returned with a small red sweater. He took the garment, plus a two-way radio Hank passed him, saw that he had full service on his cell and shouldered into his backpack.
“I’ll check in every half an hour,” he assured his brother. “I’ll do a sweep of the spot where he was last seen and go from there. Tell your men not to contaminate the area, will you?”
“Want me to come with you?” Hank offered. “Or perhaps you should take one of the EMT guys?”
“You’re needed here,” Mitch replied. “And you know I track better alone.”
The young father stepped forward. “I can come with you. I need to do something.”
Mitch held up a hand. “I understand your distress, but if your son is on the mountain, my dog and I will find him. The best thing you can do is to stay here in case Emmett wanders back by himself.”
The boy’s mother nodded, tears in her eyes. “He’s only wearing a T-shirt and long pants,” she said, and passed him a small olive-colored anorak. “Can you make him wear this when you find him?”
When, not if. He nodded and shoved the garment into the backpack. “Of course.”
“And this,” she said as pressed an inhaler into his palm. “He has asthma.”
He nodded again. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He called Shanook to heel, gave the parents a reassuring nod and headed toward the creek. He spotted a few emergency service personnel moving through the trees and undergrowth in formation and could hear Hank yelling out orders. The hounds from the other tracker were barking from the south, but once Mitch checked the edge of the creek and the footprint patterns, he was certain the child had headed toward the mountain. He knew the mountain well, had tracked it countless times as a boy and as a young man. It was one of the few things he’d learned from Billie-Jack. He’d found lost tourists before—this wouldn’t be any different.
He pressed the child’s sweater to Shanook’s nose and the dog inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent as he was trained to do. Mitch unclipped his leash, ruffled his neck and motioned for the hound to go on ahead. The old dog headed directly for the east side of mountain and where several old mine shafts were boarded up. It was the one section of the mountain that was off-limits to tourists but would be catnip to a curious seven-year-old. Mitch trudged after the dog, scanning the undergrowth and finding a couple of twigs bent at odd angles. As he walked on, the hollers and sounds from the emergency service people grew fainter.
He tracked alone, without interruption, with only his thoughts and instincts and knowledge of the land and the earth. If Jake was around, he might have gone with him. His brother understood the land and the mountain like he did. Jake had had the same training from Billie-Jack, knew the same routine, had the same instincts, could read footprints and where the earth and dust had been disturbed.
He walked for half an hour, covering the ground quickly, feeling the chill of the late afternoon seep through to his bones. It would be a cold night, too. Mitch came to an abrupt halt by a jut of sharp rock, noticing that Shanook was sniffing the air, searching for traces of the child’s scent within the breeze. The hound groaned and dropped his head, running his nose along a few tufts of wild grasses. The animal stopped again, took a breath and looked back toward Mitch.
“Find something, old boy?” he said, and moved toward the dog.
Mitch examined the spot, then bent down to pick up a candy wrapper. The paper still held the scent of peppermint and had clearly been discarded recently. It was a good sign, what he needed to galvanize his instincts. Unfortunately, there were several old copper mines in the area, so he knew he’d need to check them out one by one. Once he was sure he was on the right track, Mitch decided he would call Hank and arrange for some of the emergency service people to help look for the boy. Until then, he didn’t want untrained or clumsy feet walking over the child’s tracks.
He checked in with his brother, registering Hank’s insistence that he had people on standby to widen the search once he was sure the child was in the area, then headed farther up the mountain. The undergrowth was thick and unforgiving, and he stopped twice to pull splinters from Shanook’s feet. The sounds of the other trackers had disappeared the farther up he went. Mitch was certain he was in the right area. Darkness fell and he pulled the flashlight from the backpack, walking slowly and avoiding tripping mostly from memory. He’d been in the same spot many times hiking with his brothers, and knew where he was from several landmark rock formations. Kegg’s Mountain was steep and unforgiving and a good challenge for serious hikers. He covered ground for another thirty minutes, feeling the bite of the air across his face. Shanook came to a halt by a high mesh fence that had been erected to keep people away from one of the old mines.
He knew the mine and that it had ceased operating thirty years before. Mitch noticed a small gap in the fence where a tree had fallen and broken through the mesh, and then examined the ground around it, shining the light where Shanook was sniffing. Footprints. Small and erratic. And a candy wrapper. The dog how
led and pressed his nose against the wire fence.
Mitch grabbed his cell and called Hank. “I’m at the old Pritchard mine, the one on the east face.”
He heard his brother curse. They both knew how bad the mine was. “You find him yet?”
“No, but Shanook is howling, and you know what that means. Something or someone is here.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Hank said. “Don’t go near the mine shaft—that place has been unstable for years. I’ll have help there in forty-five minutes.”
“See you soon,” he said, ignoring his brother’s instruction.
Mitch grabbed the pocketknife from his backpack and cut through the wire, holding the flashlight steady under his arm. The wire snapped easily and he made a space large enough to fit through. The dog went through the gap first and he squeezed in behind, ripping his shirtsleeve on a jagged edge. He cursed, dabbed at the blood that seeped through the fabric and kept moving. He knew Hank would send emergency service people immediately, but Mitch wasn’t about to leave a child in a potentially compromised position. The mines were treacherous for those who were unfamiliar with the terrain. What if it was his son in there? He’d be prepared to move heaven and earth to get him out, and he’d bulldoze over anyone who got in his way.
The entrance to the mine was boarded up and a large Danger sign was nailed to one side. He could see that people had been exploring the place, probably curious teens who were looking for a thrill. In the daylight there might be time to wait, but the night air was cold and, for an asthmatic child, very dangerous. He called the boy’s name and waited. Nothing. Shanook made a low, growling sound, like he was on alert, cementing Mitch’s suspicions that Emmett was close. He pulled at some of the boards, noticing a space wide enough for a small child to squeeze through. There were a couple of candy wrappers on the ground, pressed into the dirt, and he aimed the flashlight ahead, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. A bird called out overhead, making a long wailing sound and creating a haunting echo, and Shanook howled loudly.
“Steady, boy,” he said as the hound came to heel at his side.
Mitch heard an odd sound, and then another, like dirt and stone shifting. It was clear the mine was unstable. He took a step forward, instructing the dog to remain where he was.
Support beams rumbled, as though the mine sensed his intrusion, and he felt dust flick down his collar. The sooner he found Emmett and got out, the better. His cell beeped and he checked the message immediately. It was Hank, informing him he had a team on their way to his location. The mine rumbled again.
“No time to wait,” he said, and walked forward, scanning the darkness with the flashlight.
Mitch heard a sound, like a muffled cry. From behind him, Shanook barked. He knew the dog wanted to come forward, but he wasn’t about to compromise the animal’s safety. He instructed the dog to stay where he was, sterner this time, and the hound whined for a moment and then sat on his haunches, pawing the ground. Once he was satisfied the dog was settled, Mitch moved ahead, taking small steps, peering into the darkness, trying to distinguish between the shapes of old equipment and piles of rock debris.
The sound of heavy breathing came again, echoing around him, confirming what he suspected. “Emmett?”
He heard a squeaky croak, and then another, and he pushed forward, moving the light from side to side. The beam found something colorful—a T-shirt. Emmett. He made out the boy’s outline and settled the light on his startled face for a moment, before dropping the beam to the side. The child was wedged between two rocks and was breathing heavily. His face was streaked with tears and dirt, but he looked okay, which was all that mattered.
The earth above moaned again and Mitch’s chest twitched as debris shifted and dust fell into his hair. He had to get the child out, right now.
“Hey, buddy, your mom and dad have been looking for you,” he said, and smiled.
“Are you a fireman?” the child asked croakily, wiping his face.
“No,” he replied, stepping closer. “But my brother is a policeman and he asked me to help look for you.”
“Is my daddy here?” the boy asked as Mitch approached.
“He’ll be here soon,” Mitch assured him, and was about to grab his cell when a loud shirring sound came from overhead and a shower of dirt and dust fell on his head and shoulders. It was as though the whole mine shaft was suddenly yelling for them to get out.
“We need to leave, Emmett,” Mitch said quickly.
“I got stuck,” he said, and pointed to his left foot, which was caught between two rocks.
From the entry, Mitch heard Shanook whining, clearly warning him to hurry. He shone the light down and saw that the boy’s shoe was wedged between the rocks. Mitch took the child’s arm gently and hauled him free. The shoe stayed, but he didn’t waste time retrieving it, as the mine gave a loud and pitiful groan before more debris came showering down. His cell rang again, the sound reverberating in the small space, like another, sharper jolt, telling him to hurry.
Mitch gripped Emmett against his chest, crouching lower as they headed for the entrance, taking the deluge of dust and dirt onto his back and shoulders. Shanook barked, over and over, the yelps in unison with Mitch’s steps. The entrance was ten feet away, but more rubble fell, heavier and harder, biting into the back of his neck. Mitch covered Emmett’s face gently with a hand as dust flew into his nose and mouth.
Keep moving...
A loud sound turned his head and he glanced up for a moment. Several of the support struts were giving way, collapsing from the heavy weight of dirt channeling through any gaps and spaces it could find, working out a way to empty its belly into the void. A heavy beam came down, striking Mitch on the left shoulder and he dropped to one knee, releasing Emmett as another rush of dirt shot into his eyes. He braced the collapsing beam, pushing the child forward.
“Shanook...take!”
He pressed his back into the beam, feeling the heavy weight driving him down, watching as the terrified child lingered for a moment. Then Shanook ran forward, grasped the boy by the T-shirt and dragged him from the shaft. Once they were safe, relief pitched in Mitch’s chest. Shanook wailed loudly, the sound pitiful as it combined with the sudden crush of rocks and dirt from above. Mitch felt a sharp pain in his back and his leg was forced into an excruciating angle. Something hit him from behind and he dropped to both knees, seeing stars, hearing white noise, feeling his chest and lungs tighten.
Tess...
The image came from some faraway place. He saw his wife, his child, his life rushing headfirst like a film reel on fast-forward as something else hard hit him in the middle of his back.
And then he saw nothing. Just blackness.
Chapter Nine
Tess was heading to bed on Friday night when her cell rang. It was an unfamiliar number, but she picked up and was startled to hear Hank’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Tess...”
Her back straightened instantly. Police officers rarely called with good news. Her first thought was that something had happened to her sister and her entire body shook with fear. “What is it?”
“There’s been an accident. Mitch is in...”
She couldn’t recall much of the conversation. Something about a lost child and an old mine shaft and his brother being trapped and taken to the emergency room at the community hospital. After that, she was on autopilot for the next half an hour. Getting dressed. Grabbing her keys. Driving to the hospital.
When she reached the ER it was nearly nine o’clock. Joss, Hank and Ellie were in the waiting room. The twins were pacing, and Ellie was seated in the corner, her hands twisting in her lap. Her ex-sister-in-law was up and hugging her within seconds.
“It’s so awful,” Ellie said, tears in her eyes. “He’s...he’s...”
Dead.
“He’s in with the
doctors now,” Hank said, and tapped her shoulder. “He was trapped under a pile of debris. It took an hour for the EMTs to get him out. We don’t know much, but I think he broke his leg and some ribs and...”
Tess faded out a little and must have swayed, because within seconds Joss grabbed her arm and led her to a seat. She heard both brothers telling her about the accident, about how Mitch had saved a child’s life, about how he took the full force of the collapse. As they spoke, her limbs and skin turned numb. It was a nightmare, it had to be. She was really at home in bed, dreaming, only imagining the worst. He was fine. He had to be fine.
Tess instinctively touched her belly, comforting her child. Mitch’s son. She wanted to cry and scream and curse at the world. She wanted to make it all go away. She wanted a do-over of the last few weeks so they wouldn’t end in the hospital. And Mitch wouldn’t be fighting for his life.
Joss kept talking, Ellie cried, Hank began blaming himself and Tess sat by the door, waiting for the doctor to come and tell them he was going to be all right. David came into the room carrying take-out coffee. He nodded toward Tess and was muttering something about Annie giving her a call when Grant barged into the waiting room, in a suit and tie and looking like he’d come directly from his office.
“I got here as quick as I could,” he said, and then jerked to a halt when he saw Tess. Of course, Mitch had told him about her return and about the baby, but she still registered the shock in his expression when he saw her. Long ago she’d been his schoolteacher, and then his guardian...and she cared deeply for him. Like she cared for them all. And she knew it was reciprocated. Grant didn’t bother to hold back his emotions, and came toward her and hauled her into a tight bear hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly.
Tess nodded. “Me, too.”
Grant stepped back and looked at his brothers. “Tell me everything.”
While they spoke, Tess returned to her seat, sent a quick text to Annie and tried not to overthink the situation. Tried not to imagine the worst. But it was hard.
