The Hunted

by Mike Dellosso

  "Has Caleb ever talked about running away?"

  Rosa lowered her brow. The question had stung. "Why would you-"

  Andy raised a hand in surrender, the pen laced between his thumb and first two fingers. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I know it seems awfully insensitive, but these are just routine questions I have to ask."

  "I-I'm sorry," Rosa said, fixing her eyes on her hands. When had they become so worn? She hadn't noticed before. "He is all I have left. If anything happened to him... " Her voice trailed off.

  "Ma'am, did he ever talk about running away or threaten to? I know sometimes when kids get upset about something, they say things they don't mean, but sometimes they act on it anyway. You know, to get attention."

  She shook her head slowly. "No. Caleb never talked about anything like that. We have a good relationship. He is a good boy."

  "Did-I'm sorry. Your husband, he died some time ago, didn't he?"

  Rosa nodded. Memories of Rick threatened to flood her mind. Any other time she would have welcomed them. But not today. Not now. This was not the time. She had to be strong. "Yes. When Caleb was one. In a trucking accident."

  Andy paused, then sighed. "I'm sorry. Did Caleb ever talk about his feelings about not having a father?"

  Rosa shot a sideways glance at the tall, lean officer sitting across from her. She didn't know Andy personally, but word around town was that he was a fair and honest cop. He was young but tough on following protocol. She restrained the urge to brush off his question; he was just doing his job. He probably didn't like asking these questions any more than she liked answering them.

  Andy dipped his chin and frowned. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I really am. I'm just looking for any kind of hidden resentment or anger Caleb may have. Anything that will help us with the search, narrow it down, give us some kind of clue. In a case like this, there's not a whole lot to go on."

  Rosa forced a smile and twisted the handkerchief in her hand. "I know. He asks a lot of questions about Rick, and I answer them honestly. But he never seems resentful or angry over not having a dad. He is very mature for his age."

  "I'm sure he is. He's been through a lot." Andy arched his thick eyebrows and looked at Rosa. "One more question?"

  She nodded. "Sure."

  "Did Caleb ever talk about meeting any other men or talking to anyone you didn't know?"

  "Not that I know of. I teach him not to talk to strangers, to stay away from people he does not know. I'm sure if he met anyone or had any strange encounters with anyone he would have told me. We talk a lot."

  Andy wrote something else in his notepad, clicked his pen, and slid it into the breast pocket of his shirt. "Thanks, Mrs. Saunders. Chief Gill is talking to the other boys at the Dinsmore house. I'll let you know what she finds out." He stood and hesitated. "Do you have a recent photo I can take along?"

  "Yes, we just got his school pictures last week." She stood, went into the kitchen, and retrieved a five-by-seven photo of Caleb from the drawer of the hutch. His dark brown hair was neatly parted to the side, freckles dappled his nose and cheeks, and a wide smile stretched across his face. She clutched the picture in her hands as if it were really her dear son.

  Lord, please let my Caleb be OK. Protect him.

  Returning to the living room, Rosa swallowed the golf ball that had risen in her throat. "Here, take this one."

  Andy took the photo and studied it. "Thank you." He looked at Rosa, and she found some solace in his warm eyes. "And I'm sure we'll find him. I know what you're worried about, and if it's any comfort, there hasn't been an abduction in Dark Hills in over three decades."

  He turned to leave, then stopped and drew in a long breath, letting his eyes meet Rosa's again. "We will find him."

  "I know." It was all she could say. If she opened her mouth once more, nothing but groans and sobs would shove their way out. After all she and Caleb had been through, she never thought God would lead her down this path. This was supposed to happen to other people, the poor distraught parents on television. The ones surrounded by reporters. The ones with hollow, bloodshot eyes, staring blankly into the camera. This was not the way it was supposed to work out. Not for her. Not for Caleb.

  Why, Lord? Dear God, why? I can't bear this burden alone. I need Rick.

  "OK, boys," Chief Maggie Gill said, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa where the four Dinsmore brothers sat-Jeremy David, Michael, and Sean. "What were you doing in the woods with Caleb?"

  At thirty-three, she was the youngest chief of police in the two-hundredyear history of Dark Hills, and the first woman. But Maggie knew how to handle herself-she came from a long line of Dark Hills police officers and had earned the respect of the small community.

  Jeremy, the oldest at eleven, pushed some hair off his forehead and spoke first. "We were playing Man Hunter, and it was Caleb's turn to be the prey."

  Maggie stopped and faced Jeremy. "I think I can figure it out, but explain to me what `Man Hunter' is."

  Jeremy shifted nervously on the worn sofa, shot a glance at his father, then back at Maggie. "It's where, like, one person hides in the woods and the others have to track 'em and find 'em. We play it all the time. Caleb usually hides in the same place, somewheres around the old Yates house. We were gonna go there first but went down to the creek instead. When he wasn't anywhere around there, we went to the Yates place, but he wasn't there either, so we just walked around until we got bored and then came home. We called his name, told him we were done and were going home. I guess we just thought he got tired of hiding and went home too."

  "Sometimes that happens," Michael, the eight-year-old, said, shrugging his thin shoulders. "The hunted hides so good no one can find him. So we all just go home when we get tired."

  Maggie removed her cap and sat on a well-worn, olive-colored chair situated across from the sofa in the cramped living room. She knew the rest of the story. The boys had returned home and two hours later phoned Rosa, asking to speak to Caleb. Only Caleb still wasn't home. Rosa called the police department, and Maggie set the wheels in motion, sending Andy out to speak with her. And she wound up here, talking to the Dinsmore boys.

  When Maggie received the call from Rosa, a gnawing void had settled into her stomach. She knew what it meant for the kid. Best scenario, he was just lost, wandering around in the woods, wide-eyed and scared, like some puppy that had strayed too far from home. Worst scenario, she had a full-blown abduction on her hands-a thought she didn't want to entertain until she gathered more information.

  Jerry Dinsmore, the boys' father, cleared his throat and said, "They were worried sick when they found out Caleb was missing." He leaned his thick shoulder against the doorframe, hands shoved in the pockets of his dirty jeans. Jerry was a foreman for Kingston Construction and had a reputation around town for being a hard-nosed, by-the-book man. Maggie knew to tread lightly in his presence, especially when questioning his boys.

  "I'm sure we'll find him," Maggie said, trying her best to sound encouraging. "About how big of an area do you play this game in?" She looked at Jeremy for an answer.

  Jeremy shrugged and threw his head back to clear his long bangs from his eyes. "I don't know. We play, like, from the alley to the cornfield to the creek and over to the dirt road that goes back to the Yates place."

  Maggie quickly jotted the landmarks down, drawing a rough map on her notepad. It wasn't too large of an area, maybe three quarters of a mile to a mile square. Shouldn't take too much time for a search party to comb. She'd make a few phone calls and would have a group ready to go in a couple hours. "Jeremy, you're in Caleb's class, aren't you? And you're pretty good friends?"

  "Yeah. He's prob'ly my best friend."

  "Do you know if he has any enemies? Any other boys who don't like him? Maybe he got into some fights at school."

  Jeremy shook his head. "No way. Caleb's one of the most pop'lar kids in school. He's friends with, like, everyone. Nobody messes with him."

  "But does he mess with anyone else? You know,
tease, bully. Anything someone might want to get back at him for?"

  Jeremy shook his head again. "No way. Caleb's cool. Everyone likes him."

  Maggie stood up, placed her cap firmly over her hair, and faced the boys once again. "One more question, guys, and I want the truth. No one's in trouble here. Did any of you ever see any strange men in or around the woods, talk to any strangers, or see Caleb talking to any strangers?"

  The boys sat quietly, stealing furtive glances at one another.

  Maggie looked at Jerry and raised her eyebrows. Better to let him use his fatherly persuasion than to step into the role of interrogator and intimidate the boys.

  Jerry pushed away from the doorframe and stood at his full height of over six feet. "Boys," he said, his voice deep and gruff, "answer the chief."

  Jeremy looked at his father, then at David, his younger brother by a mere eleven months, then at Maggie. "There was one guy," he said. "Stevie. He wanders 'round in the woods. Sometimes we see him at the Yates place just standing there lookin' all weird and stuff. Sometimes we hear him talking to himself and laughing. But we ain't never talked to him. He's a creep."

  "He's a retard," David said. "Lives in the old trailer on the farm. Down by the pond."

  Sean, the youngest at six, fidgeted in his place on the sofa and glanced at his father, then back at Maggie. "Sometimes we throw r-rocks at his house. He said if he ever c-c-caught us, he'd k-kill us all."

  CHAPTER 3

  ITTING NEXT To his sister-in-law, Rosa, their shoulders touching, Joe Saunders wrung his hands nervously. Her living room felt smaller than it was, closing in on him. After she'd called, he'd emptied his drawers into two suitcases, blazed down Route 522, making the hourand-a-half trip in just over an hour, and now listened intently as she filled him in on everything she knew thus far.

  He'd been here before, ten years ago, sitting next to her, comforting her, listening, just... being.

  And feeling guilty.

  He should have done more with Caleb. Despite living almost a hundred miles away, he'd tried to visit often and tried to call even more often. But often wasn't enough. He should have been more involved, lived closer, called more... something. But his guilt had repeatedly gotten in the way. Every time he looked at Caleb he wanted to cry, wanted to beg for the boy's forgiveness. And now he teetered on the same ledge on which he stood a decade ago, a decision to make: step over and plummet even further into the bottomless gulf of guilt and shame, or step back and accept the responsibility that had been thrust upon him.

  Ten years ago he'd chosen the former.

  Tonight he would choose to stay, brush aside the urge to embrace the loathing, take responsibility, and find Caleb.

  "When's the search party meeting?" Joe asked.

  The sun had already dropped in the sky and had taken the temperature with it. Joe was an experienced outdoorsman and knew if Caleb were out there, injured or lost, he wouldn't last long. In a child, hypothermia would set in quickly. The meteorologist on the radio had said the temperature was to dip into the low forties overnight. Time would not be on their side.

  "Chief Gill said they were meeting at seven o'clock in front of the old repair shop on McCormick."

  Joe knew the spot exactly. He slipped his arm around Rosa's shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze; she tensed under his grip. He could tell her nerves were well past the fraying point. Ever since Rick died, Caleb had been her world. She had told Joe before that Caleb was so much like his father it was almost like having Rick around. Caleb was lucky to have a mother like her. She was a strong woman, determined to make sure her son didn't miss out on anything a young boy should experience.

  But now she looked weak and vulnerable. Her small frame was slumped on the sofa, her eyes swollen and red, her hair disheveled.

  Just like she looked ten years ago.

  If anything happened to Caleb, she'd die, Joe thought.

  "We'll find him, Rosa," he said, putting on his best staying positive smile. "I won't let anything ha-"

  "Joe, don't," Rosa interrupted. "Don't put this on yourself. If things... go bad, you don't need to carry around any more needless guilt."

  Joe smiled and nodded. Just like her, always thinking of others before herself. And just like her to see right through him. He felt like the Visible Man model he had as a kid, transparent enough for Rosa to see past the outer facade and into the inner workings of his soul. It was the first time she'd ever mentioned his guilt. He'd known all along that she was well aware of the turmoil that boiled inside him like a cauldron of oil, but she never said anything. She let him have his privacy, no doubt waiting for him to make the first move toward discussing Rick's death. But he never did. Someday maybe, but not today.

  He stood, slipped on his green field coat, and stuck his hands in the pockets. "We shouldn't think like that. We have to expect the best to happen. He probably just wandered too far and got lost, that's all." He knew the hesitancy in his voice betrayed his attempt to appear confident. There were parts of the woods that were thick and tangled with briars and octopus-like vines waiting to snatch little boys who wandered unawares into their wicked domain, and one could easily lose any sense of direction. But the entire rectangular wooded area could not be more than a mile by four miles. Easy to get lost, hard to stay lost. That is, if Caleb was even lost. Joe was well aware of the possibility that he'd stumbled upon a candy-constructed cottage, only to find the occupant a dirty old-

  He drove the thought from his head.

  Stay positive, Joe. Stay positive.

  Inside his trailer home, Stevie Bauer lounged in a torn, brown vinyl recliner, his head relaxed against the back, legs extended, elbows resting on his hips, fingertips of each hand lightly touching. The flame of a single oil lamp threw odd-shaped shadows against the barren walls. He liked basking in the natural light of fire; something about the silent quality of the dancing tongue, the orange hue of the muted glow, soothed him and kept his ubiquitous fears at bay.

  Stevie grinned and sighed deeply, fixing his eyes on the twitching shadows. "One down, Momma. One down. I'll make 'em all sorry for what they done. You watch. I'm gonna make you proud, real proud. Time for Stevie to stand up."

  A strand of hair fell across his face. He pressed his palm against his brow and brushed it away, then pawed at the air as if batting at imaginary bees and let out a long hiss. Then, stroking a tawny severed paw in his lap, whispered, "No one will bother us again, Momma. I'll teach 'em. They'll learn. Stevie's in charge now."

  Joe pulled his 1992 Ford pickup into the cracked and crumbling parking lot of the abandoned repair shop. McCormick Street dead-ended at the edge of the woods, and the garage was the last building before the asphalt ended. The shop was an old, square, brick structure with peeling gray paint and a faded red and white sign that read Harrison's Garage. The windows were clouded with dirt, four rusted gray oil drums were lined up alongside of the building, and a stack of used tires, bald from wear and dry-rotted from age, sat next to the wooden overhead door. A single sodium streetlight hummed above the lot, illuminating only the front of the abandoned building. It used to be Hank Harrison's garage before he died and the business folded. No one in the Harrison family bothered to take over the mom-and-pop outfit, and the building was left to decay.

  Joe turned off the engine and got out of the truck. Rosa exited the passenger side and met him around the front of the vehicle. She'd told him she wanted to come along and stay at the repair shop while the search party looked for Caleb.

  Rosa took Joe's arm and motioned toward the group of volunteers huddled by the garage. "Come. Maggie is over there. Let's see what she has planned."

  Joe hesitated. Yes, Maggie. Somewhere between Rosa's house and the garage he'd forgotten he would be face-to-face with Maggie Gill again. His heart rate quickened.

  "Are you OK with this?" Rosa asked.

  Joe smiled, willing his heart to settle into an even rhythm. "Uh... sure. Of course. Let's go see what she has planned."
>
  Maggie looked up and caught Joe's eye. She stepped out of the group to greet them. "Rosa," she said, giving Rosa a little hug. "I'm glad you came. Are you holding up OK?"

  Rosa nodded. "I'm doing the best I can. Keeping hope. Thank you."

  Maggie then turned and faced Joe.

  "Maggie," he said, extending his arms toward her. "It's good to see you again."

  She hugged him tightly and patted him on the back. "Hi, Joe. I'm glad you came. How are you doing?"

  Joe let go of Maggie and stepped back. She still looked like a blonde Audrey Hepburn. The overhead lamplight glistened off her dirty-blonde hair and cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting her smooth features. There was sorrow in her eyes that seemed to mute the blue that was once as bright as the midday sky. Nevertheless, she was still just as beautiful as the last time he saw her.

  "I'm ready to find Caleb." He dropped his eyes to the asphalt, then looked back up at Maggie. "It's been too many years, hasn't it?"

  "Fifteen is too many," Maggie agreed, a half smile curling one corner of her mouth. Turning, she clapped her hands, calling the group together. There were about twenty gathered, more men than women, mostly dressed in camo or plaid flannel. Their grim faces and hushed whispers spoke of the seriousness of the situation.

  While they huddled around her, Maggie handed out flashlights to those who hadn't brought one and gave instructions. "OK, people. Caleb is eleven years old, about five feet tall, dark brown hair, brown eyes, slender build. Here's a recent photo." She passed around Caleb's fifth grade school picture. "He's wearing a light blue, long-sleeve T-shirt, camouflage jacket, blue jeans, and black adidas. By our best guess, he's been missing for about five hours. We'll cover every square inch of these woods if we have to. Leave no leaf unturned. He could be anywhere. Officer Wilt will lead the search. Officer Warren and I have some other business to attend to. I apologize for the darkness. I know it'll make your job that much more difficult, but organizing something like this takes time, and we all knew the early sunset wasn't going to be on our side. Do your best." She clapped her hands together. "Get your gear and go to it. Let's find Caleb."