On Tall Pine Lake

by Dorothy Garlock

  The searchers’ latest move had brought them to within a couple hundred yards of the last cabin. A sheriff’s car was parked in front. An overweight deputy, a cigarette in his mouth, leaned against the fender talking into his radio. Webb got the impression from his jovial tone that he was not conducting police business, but rather flirting with the dispatcher.

  “Yeah,” Frank said. “We sure screwed up.”

  Webb was surprised to hear Frank admit it, and didn’t mention that there was no “we” about it. Frank and Frank alone had made the decision to take the girl. Webb had no choice but to agree with him.

  “I don’t think the kid knew anything about Harold. We scared the shit out of her though. If she had known anything, she’d have told us.”

  “Her sister could have told her something . . .” Webb’s voice trailed, and he wondered why he was trying to appease Frank.

  “We’ll have to take the redhead now.”

  “With all the cops hanging around and Wright glued to her side?” Webb asked incredulously. Then: “We’re not going to be able to waltz in there and snatch her.”

  “It only takes one bullet to stop Wright.” Frank slid his hand down to the butt of his revolver. “We need that girl.”

  For the next twenty minutes the men sat silently and watched the movement in the camp. Webb knew that it needled Frank to have failed with the young one.

  Frank was frustrated. Webb was like an old woman—too weak at heart to take action but opinionated enough to rub it in about the girl.

  Suddenly, the door to the cabin nearest them opened and a woman stepped out onto the porch. In that instant an idea came to Frank. “Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute,” he exclaimed.

  “What is it?”

  “Look there.” Frank pointed at the cabin. A woman had come out onto the porch and stood with her hands spread over her ample stomach. A man joined her. He took her arm and helped her down the steps. They walked toward the center of the grounds.

  “I don’t get it,” Webb confessed.

  “That’s Ernie’s old lady. She’d be perfect.”

  “Perfect for what?”

  “For grabbing, you dumb ass.” A plan was quickly growing in Frank’s mind. He was amazed that he hadn’t thought of the possibility before they had taken the girl. This could be an answer to their problem with a lot less hassle.

  Webb’s brow furrowed. “What do we want with her?”

  “She’s been here with these broads for nearly a month. She’s bound to have heard something. If old Ernie found out anything, he probably told her before he could get back to us.”

  “We’d be pushin’ our luck with two kidnappings.”

  “Stop your bitchin’. Ain’t nobody going to be watching that fat cow,” Frank continued, ignoring the younger man’s concerns. With every passing second, the plan seemed more logical. “That skinny fella she’s with don’t look like much. Besides, ain’t no one else around. Everybody’s out looking for the girl.”

  Frank paused when he heard the rustling of brush. He nudged Webb and they pressed back deeper into the woods. The last thing Frank wanted to do was run into a trigger-happy deputy who’d have no qualms about shooting them.

  After a tense minute of their straining to hear another sound, there was a crackling of dried undergrowth. A hundred feet away, a man pushed his way through the brittle brush. He was dressed in work clothes, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. With a groan, he stepped over a fallen tree trunk, opened his britches, and began to relieve himself.

  Webb glared at Frank, hoping to root him into place. There were times to run, times to fight, and times to ride it out. This was definitely the latter.

  Sweat ran down the sides of Webb’s face while he waited for the man to stop peeing. As soon as he had finished, the man crashed back through the underbrush in the direction of the camp. When he reached the road in front of the cabins, he hailed the deputy leaning on the squad car.

  “Move,” Frank hissed.

  Without further pause, he and Webb quickly left their hiding place and pushed deeper into the woods.

  “Damn, that was close,” Webb said breathlessly when they finally stopped and hunkered down behind a felled tree. Their clothes were wet with perspiration.

  “How’d that guy get so close to us?” Frank’s voice was accusing.

  “Don’t think it was my fault.”

  “You should have been watching our backs.”

  “What about you?” Webb spat. “You’re awfully quick to blame someone else for your shortcomings.” After spending a week in his company he realized that when you got right down to it, Frank was not as smart as he thought he was. Webb’s dislike for him had increased steadily. He wished that he were back in Chicago, bellying up to the bar and shooting the breeze with his buddies.

  Webb turned his head to listen. He heard the sound of voices; one of them was a girl . . . maybe the girl. He saw Frank pull his revolver from the band of his trousers.

  Maggie followed along behind Dusty as he made his way down the narrow path. The going was difficult; she had to be careful to stay away from the prickly barbs on the bushes that grew on either side. The sun was on its downward journey. The mid-afternoon shadows grew longer with each passing hour. Maggie had no idea how long they had been walking. Dusty had said they would reach the camp before dark. She wondered if he had miscalculated.

  After the man in the uniform had come to their door, Denise and Avery had been anxious for Dusty to return from surveying the woods. When he had, he told them he had seen no sign of anyone, and they all agreed that it was best to get Maggie back to the camp as soon as possible. After emotional hugs and promises to return later, Dusty and Maggie left for Tall Pine Camp.

  Several hours later, Maggie was bone-weary. Her feet felt as if each weighed at least a hundred pounds. Her hair was wet and stuck to her neck. She asked in a low murmur, “How much farther?”

  “I’m not real sure,” Dusty said without looking back. “I’ve only been there a few times. We fish on the other side of the lake. I’m guessing it’s a mile or two yet.”

  They walked in near silence. The crackling sounds of their footsteps mingled with the chatter of birds settling in the treetops. A slight breeze came up, bringing with it the scent of pines. Squirrels busied themselves in the underbrush in their constant search for food. Maggie wanted to talk to this strange boy, to ask him about his life, but she hesitated. She was shy about talking to boys and he had told her to keep quiet. Dusty had risked a lot for her, and she would do whatever he told her to do. During the last couple of days, Maggie had known real fear for the first time in her life. Now she wondered if the men who had taken her had gone after Nona.

  Behind every tree, bush, or boulder, she imagined one of them lurking. Several times her breath had caught in her throat as she thought she saw someone stepping out to stop them. Each time she had been mistaken. Still, the worry would not go away. Noticing that she had fallen a bit behind Dusty, she hurried to catch up with him.

  “So, tell me about your life,” the boy said suddenly in a low tone. “I bet it’s a lot different from mine.”

  Not sure that she had heard him correctly, she closed the distance between them and asked softly, “What did you say?”

  “Tell me about yourself. Where did you live before you came here?”

  “We lived in an apartment in Little Rock.”

  “I’ve never been to Little Rock.”

  “Where do you go to school?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t. My mom and dad teach me. They both have teaching certificates. My dad was a college professor; my mother taught English literature. In the winter I have to study at least six hours a day. My mother sent away for the college SAT exam. I scored high enough for college admission when I was fourteen years old,” he said proudly.

  “You must be pretty smart.” Maggie looked at him with admiration.

  “I don’t know about that.” Then, “How old are you?”

&nb
sp; “I’m fourteen.”

  “I’m two years older than you.”

  “Don’t you miss being around other kids?”

  “Sometimes. But there are quite a few kids in the area my age or younger. All the families get together on the Fourth of July and at Christmastime. My mother is going to start teaching all of the grades in September.”

  “What do you do for fun?”

  “I read, listen to the radio, hunt, fish, and study.”

  Maggie grimaced. “I don’t think studying would be much fun.”

  “I want to learn as much as I can. I’ll need a scholarship to attend a good university.”

  “Then what will you do?”

  “I want a job in the space program. My dad gave me a telescope last year and it whetted my interest in outer space.”

  Listening to Dusty’s words made the time go faster. She wanted him to keep talking.

  “Dusty, I . . .” Maggie started to tell him how much she liked being with him, how different he was from any boy she had ever met.

  Suddenly, Dusty threw his arm out to keep her behind him. “Shh . . . Be quiet.”

  Fear gripped her when she saw a figure step out of the bushes ahead of them and stand in the path. Her frightened heart began to pound. She reached out and placed her hand on Dusty’s shoulder.

  This is no shadow. This is real.

  An old man with a shock of white hair and a thick beard blocked the path ahead. His eyes were yellow in the late afternoon light, and his clothes hung on his thin frame. He looked like a scarecrow or something you would see on Halloween in a scary house. He raised one gnarled finger.

  “What the hell’re you doing here?”

  Chapter 20

  NONA AND MABEL came out onto the porch as the burnt orange sun began its descent over the windblown treetops. A dozen vehicles, several of them from the sheriff’s department, sat at various angles along the road in front of the camp grounds. Another day was ending without their finding Maggie.

  “We can’t give up hope,” Mabel said as she put her arm around Nona. “We’ll find her, I just know it.”

  Nona nodded silently. Mabel always looked on the bright side of things. But her eyes were red from crying and her hands fluttered nervously. None of them had slept more than a few hours at a time since Maggie’s disappearance. Mabel put up a good front.

  The feeling of helplessness was the most alarming to Nona. From the moment she had realized that Maggie was missing, Nona had had to stand to the side and let others take over the search. She realized that if she were to go out into the woods, odds were that she would become lost. Instead, she had stayed at the camp, beside the phone, and let others do the looking. Every hour was worse than the one before. How much more can I take before I lose my mind?

  Nona looked up to see several groups of men break through the bushes at the far end of the camp grounds. A few wore drab brown, the uniform of the sheriff’s office, but most of them were volunteers from town. Rifles were slung over their shoulders and flashlights hung from their belts. Two of them were clad in the bright orange that hunters usually wore to identify themselves to other hunters. Nona’s eyes searched for any sign that Maggie was with them or if they had found anything that belonged to her. Without a word, she hurried down the steps to meet them.

  Nona passed several men who nodded a greeting. With every step, the frustration, and helplessness that had defined her for the last two days steadily turned to anger. She’d held in so much for so long.

  “Sheriff Carter!” she shouted.

  A slightly overweight man with thinning hair, Sheriff Amos Carter stepped away from the other men and waited for Nona to reach him. In his mid-fifties, he wore a uniform that was stretched tightly over his sizable middle. Despite his wife’s nagging, he hadn’t yet come to grips with his weight problem, and his clothes were always a bit too small. With an oval face and drooping eyelids, he had a well-earned reputation as a patient man who waited to hear all sides before making a decision. He had always been calm and pleasant when speaking to Nona.

  “Howdy, Miss Conrad,” he said with a faint smile. He passed his fingers through his thinning hair before he continued. “Sorry to have to tell you, but we found no sign of your sister. We’re going to start again in . . .”

  “Why are you quitting for the day?” Nona asked sharply, cutting the man off in mid-sentence. “There’s still plenty of light left. We’re wasting time when we should be out searching.”

  “I understand that you’re upset, but—”

  “I don’t think you do understand, Sheriff,” Nona cut in again. She didn’t want him, or anyone else for that matter, telling her how she felt. The truth was, the storm of emotion that was boiling through her was indescribable. She could no longer control it. “My sister is out there somewhere and you people are calling it a day?”

  “Now, Miss Conrad.” The sheriff took a step toward her, raising a calming hand. “You need to understand that the men are tired. They’ve been searching the woods for the past couple of days. They need to get home to see about their families, eat, and get some rest.”

  “They’re not the only ones who’re tired,” she blurted, tears filling her eyes.

  “I understand that, but I don’t expect these men to roam around in the woods after dark. They are volunteers and are out there searching because they want to, not because it’s their job.”

  “But it’s your job. You and your men are paid to do this sort of thing.”

  “Even I have my limits, Miss Conrad.” Sheriff Carter brought his arms up and crossed his chest. He’d spoken in an even tone, but there was irritation written on his face.

  The anger that filled Nona was becoming so great that even the sheriff’s calming tone made little difference. She knew what he was saying was the truth, but she stubbornly refused to admit it. All that mattered was finding Maggie and bringing her home.

  “I don’t care!” she shouted and was about to say more before she was cut off by a pair of strong hands that grabbed her shoulders from behind. She was so surprised, she let out a small yelp of alarm. Turning her head, she found herself staring into Simon’s piercing eyes. Where the devil did he come from?

  “Sorry for the interruption, Sheriff.” He spoke to the lawman, but his eyes never left Nona’s. “This has been a trying time for all of us and sometimes we say things we later regret.”

  “Not a problem, Mr. Wright. I’ve been guilty of doing just that myself. We’ll be back in the morning to look a mite closer at the west side of the grounds. In case anything happens, call me.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff.”

  Before Nona could protest, Simon pulled her firmly by the elbow and started to lead her back across the yard. His grip was tight enough so that she couldn’t break free. He moved quickly and she stumbled along beside him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she muttered angrily.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Keep quiet,” Simon ordered and pulled her along. Rather than protest, Nona pressed her lips together and struggled to keep up with his fast pace.

  Ahead of them, she saw that Mabel had left the porch and was talking to a couple of volunteers. She held a plate of cookies she had baked to help keep her mind off Maggie and what might be happening to her. When the two women’s eyes met, Mabel looked grim, but she turned back and smiled at the men, who thanked her for the cookies.

  Upon reaching Nona’s cabin, Simon stomped up the steps, thudded across the porch, and whipped open the door. He pulled Nona across the threshold, followed her inside, and slammed the door behind him.

  “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” he barked. “Those men out there have been trudging through the woods looking for Maggie. They’re doing everything they can to help and you start accusing them of not doing enough.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nona spat out. “I’ve had to sit here and wait for
two days, unable to do a damn thing! You’re the one who insisted we take this to the sheriff. Is it wrong of me to expect them to do their job?”

  “They are doing their job. After what happened to LeAnn’s husband, they realize the seriousness of this and are leaving no stone unturned. Sheriff Carter is a good man, a good cop. He’s doing everything he can.”

  “If he’s such a good cop, why can’t he find one fourteen-year-old girl?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” Nona retorted incredulously. “You think it’s unfair for me to expect them to do their job. You said it yourself that they were experienced in that sort of thing.”

  “They don’t have anything to go on,” Simon argued.

  “We have the descriptions of the two men that accosted her in the boat. Have they been looking for them?” Nona asked stubbornly.

  He stepped closer to her, his hands taking hers in a soft embrace, his eyes staring down at hers. She thought of jerking away from him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. He was silent for a moment before saying, “You think I don’t know how you feel? I feel terrible after promising to protect you and Maggie. I made a promise and I couldn’t keep it.”

  “I don’t blame you, Simon,” she said, meaning every word. When his arms closed around her, she wrapped hers around him. “I’m glad you’re here and I’m sorry that I was so stubborn at first, but you didn’t help matters any by not telling me who you were.”

  “I know that, little redhead. That temper of yours boiled over.”

  She moved her arms up and around his neck. Simon was looking down at her. She felt a curious kind of panic, as if her body, her mind, her soul were being merged with his. Her legs felt weak, her throat tight. Her eyes could focus on nothing but him. She was breathing fast and so was he. She was acutely aware of his towering strength.

  “I’ve never felt like this about a woman. I think of you every minute of the day. I didn’t know it would be like this . . . both wonderful and like a knife in my heart.” The strangled voice sounded miles from her ears.