Laura’s mood lightens as the car turns onto the narrow, winding Blue Mountain Road. She knows he’s up here. He’s determined to find that flower. Allan described them as large like a sunflower. But instead of sunflower seeds in the middle, it has a bulb full of thick, dusty pollen. The outside petals weren’t long and skinny like a sunflower, but short and round and heavily layered. It would make a beautiful flower, if they were real.
“Follow the sign for the Boy Scout camp,” Laura says.
A half hour later, Mrs. Domley pulls onto a dirt road. The canyon that cradled that fabled river is not far away now. The road condition deteriorates, but is still traversable. She takes a left at the Marigold fork— a drive that leads to a large Boy Scout camp. Once she passes the camp, the clearly marked signs end.
“Slow now. The field is just over the next rise.”
However, the MINI Cooper doesn’t quite make it over the hill. The last rain washed out the middle of the road. What is left is a deep crack the little yellow car could only pass if a giant picked it up and placed it on the other side.
“This is the end of the road for us.” Mrs. Domley looks worried. “Can Allan get by this?”
“Oh, no problem. He’d go around. Stay here, let me go and see if he’s in the field. I’ll be right back if I see him.” Laura says. “He’ll be zig-zagging all over the grass looking for the flower.”
“Okay, dear. Don’t go too far without getting me. If you need to get on the hiking trail, I’ll go with you,” Mrs. Domley says.
“But your allergies.” Laura’s mother had epic allergies and was not a fan of hiking because of it.
“I’d rather get a migraine than have you hike alone. Check the field then come get me.”
Laura nods and hops out of the small car, holding her phone in one hand and the two coffees stacked in the other. She checks her cell to see if she missed a call or text from Allan. He hasn’t responded to her, and now her phone doesn’t have service.
On either side of the dirt road are tall pine trees and thick ferns, but once she gets to the top of the hill, it opens up. A huge field of grass extends to the other side of the canyon. This time of year the wild flowers are in full bloom and as stunning as a fireworks finale. Every color of flower—yellow poppies, white chamomile, purple cornflower, golden tickseed, red trumpet vines—were showing off, soaking up the warm sunlight. She’d never noticed so many types of flowers until meeting Allan. His meticulousness gives her goose bumps.
However, she should be able to see his chair in the grass. She scans the field. It’s two or three hundred yards across. The river runs along the far side next to a canyon wall. She squints in the morning light, wishing she had a pair of binoculars. No Allan. Her eyes water and she blinks furiously. Rubic was right, he’d never come up here by himself.
When Laura turns around, a woman emerges from behind a thick tree trunk. She’s pointing a gun. Laura drops the coffees and screams.
Chapter 7
Mysterious Coffee Cups
The knock on the front door had ripped Rubic from a strange, but pleasant, dream. When he binges on junk food he usually dreams unusual things. This dream was no less odd: filled with talking pepperonis, rain that was dark and fizzy like soda pop, and a mudslide made of pudding. He’d answered the door and spoke to Laura rather rudely. He felt guilty for being short with her.
“Oh, we’re slobs!” Rubic declares thinking Allan is in his bedroom. On many nights the two binged on junk food and fell asleep to movies.
Rubic shuffles his tired body down the hall to Allan’s bedroom and knocks on the door. “Hey, bud. Laura’s outside,” The door swings open, squeaking lightly. No Allan. He notices Allan’s light-frame wheelchair against the wall and his empty closet. He’d left!
Rubic’s dreariness evaporates. He got rid of Laura and, after closing the door on her, stood in the entryway, thinking. Where would that boy go this time of the morning? And on a Saturday? Rubic, having lost Allan before, feels his heart rev like a racecar. He sprints to the side of the couch where he’d slept and grabs his cell phone. He uses hot key one to dial Allan.
A moment after the line starts ringing, Rubic hears Allan’s annoying ringtone. It’s in the house. Rubic spins. His eyes search. The ring echoes down the hallway. He speeds back to Allan’s bedroom and sees Allan’s phone shaking and buzzing on the nightstand like a haunted rattle. He snatches it and flicks his thumb over the reject call symbol and unlocks the phone with Allan’s simple password. Laura had tried to call Allan, too, and then texted him. Allan had not seen either.
Worry and fear engulfs Rubic’s body like flames. His strong reaction makes his just-awakened-no-coffee-yet brain dizzy.
“Come on. Get ahold of yourself, man. He’s gone to the Riverwalk. He’s done that a few times. Though he always leaves me a text. I’ll bet he’s clearing his head, watching the sunrise at the bridge or something,” Rubic says out loud to himself. The fact that Rubic, just a year ago, went through the toughest few days of his life when Allan disappeared explains his paranoia. “I’m blowing all this up. Everything is okay.” But the more Rubic tries to talk himself out of panicking, the deeper he falls into its clutches.
Rubic dials Mac’s phone number. Mac answers and doesn’t know where Allan is.
Rubic hops in the van and flies down the drive, tires squealing. He drives the few blocks to the Riverwalk and parks. He jogs to the river and heads down toward the bridge.
No Allan.
He jogs all the way to the end and turns around. The only other place he’s gone by himself is the Target plaza. It had a few restaurants, a movie theater, and a post office. The Cracked Egg restaurant had his favorite morning drink. Maybe he’s gone there. Rubic returns to the van and speeds off.
He stops at the Cracked Egg and runs in. No Allan. Rubic feels anger rise in the back of his brain. “Why don’t you have your phone!” he yells. “What good are these things if you don’t keep them on you!” Sweat trickles down his forehead. “A note, he’s got to have left a note.”
Rubic drives home and runs inside. No note. “Did you really go to the mountain?” He mumbles as he flips out his phone and dials the Handi-Taxi dispatch. Rubic tugs on his beard. “But why wouldn’t he say anything?”
“Handi-Taxi here. Good to hear from you, Mr. Westerfield. What can we do for you today? Does Allan need a pick up?”
“I was calling to see if you already picked him up?”
The dispatch woman paused. “I’m sorry, Charlie did pick him up this morning.”
“Where are they going?” Rubic is shocked Allan would call a taxi and take off without saying a word.
“I’m not sure. Here, let me pull up Charlie’s GPS location.” There’s a short pause. “He’s on the Blue Mountain Road.”
“Damn. So he is going up the mountain.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Call Charlie and have him stop at the food mart at the base of the mountain and wait for me. Keep the meter running if you must.”
“I will contact him now.”
Rubic hung up and ran to the van.
Rubic inspects the topographical map of the mountain hung on the wall by Allan’s desk. It has red pushpins stuck in the locations Allan has explored. Rubic is impressed with Allan’s tenacity, even if he is chasing a ghost. The pegs on the map all cluster below the dam, extending over six miles south and following the river. There is a red circle at the bottom of all the pins. The topographical lines and symbols show a rather flat elevation in this area. Rubic sees the marking where the Boy Scout camp is located. He knows the area. There’s a huge field there. Rubic’s finger jams itself on the circle, and he’s confident Allan went there.
Rubic takes a deep breath. He tells himself to relax and tries to force it by strolling to the kitchen. Allan is okay, he’s rolling around a field of flowers. Rubic scoops coffee grounds into the coffee machine, fills up the water basin, and then waits, cup in hand, while the stained and overuse
d coffee machine starts to drip, drip, drip, hissss, drip, drip, drip.
The sound and the waiting are maddening. “Ahhhhh!!! I can’t take it! That boy is supposed to let me know what he’s doin’!!” Rubic cries out and slams his cup on the sink, chipping the bottom rim of his favorite mug.
Without thinking of his appearance, coffee, or food, Rubic storms to the van. His worry has gone and is replaced by anger and frustration.
He speeds off, heading toward the mountain.
After an hour of offensive driving, Rubic stops at the gas station with the food mart. It’s the last stop before Blue Mountain Road narrows and heads into pine country. He expects to see the taxi and Allan waiting for them. But they aren’t here.
He goes inside, stopping at the register. “Say, I’m lookin’ for a taxi van and a boy in a wheelchair. Have you seen either of them?”
The female attendant shakes her head. “Nope.” Then the woman raises her finger, the unusually long decorated fingernail gleams. “Ya know, darlin’, I did see a blonde. She bought two coffees and some gum. She looked a mess, that’s why I remember her. She was askin’ about a boy in a wheelchair as well.”
“Was she riding in a yellow MINI Cooper?”
“I think she was.” The woman picks up a huge gallon-sized insulated jug by the handle and sips soda through the fat straw.
“Thanks.” Rubic’s brow relaxes. He didn’t mind Laura taking the initiative and coming up here. She isn’t the kind of person that likes to sit around. He buys water, a coffee (because he just can’t fully function without it), a breakfast burrito, and then fills his gas tank.
Rubic calls the taxi company. “Hey, this is Rubic, er, Mr. Westerfield. Did you get ahold of Charlie?”
“No sir, he did not answer his cell. I left a message and am waiting to hear back,” the woman said.
“Okay, well, I don’t want to wait at the food mart for them. I’m headed up the mountain now. I’ll probably see them before he gets a chance to call you back.”
Rubic hangs up.
Rubic speeds up the winding mountain road, inspecting every van he passes for the Handi-Taxi logo. When he reaches the Boy Scout camp road he turns. A weathered, rusty sign points toward the Boy Scout camp. Rubic remembers the burrito he’d bought at the gas station. It tastes like plastic but lessens his hunger headache.
A mile and a half past the camp, the van hits a huge pothole causing coffee to splash on his console. The road gets worse, and he’s forced to slow to a crawl. He drives up a hill shrouded by tall, thick pine trees then stops at the apex. He has a hard time believing the small MINI Cooper could get over this road. He gets out. The sunlight is hot even though there is a breeze.
Before Rubic is a huge field of grass and flowers surrounded by pine trees, except for the river off to the right toward the canyon wall. That area had large sycamores and oak trees feeding off the abundant water.
It’s all so beautiful, but Rubic can’t see the beauty. All he can see is what isn’t there. There’s no taxi, no MINI Cooper, and no Allan Westerfield.
“Damn,” Rubic mumbles. He turns to get back into the van when a white circular object catches his eye. He runs down the hill, sliding to a stop. There in the washed out crevasse in the road is a disposable coffee cup with the logo of the Food Mart and Gas Station printed on the side. A foot down the road another cup is smashed into the crack. Rubic inspects the cup and realizes it wasn’t flattened by the van or any other vehicle. It was smashed by a shoe.
“No, no, no.”
A pink object is pressed into the dirt road a few feet away. It’s Laura’s cell phone! It looks as though someone stomped on it.
Rubic looks up and searches the tree line. What is going on here?
Chapter 8
Steely Eyed Cop
Rubic doesn’t have a cell signal. He holds up his phone but has no bars. Out of desperation, he hops onto the roof of the van and holds up his phone. A bar flickers on his phone so he calls the taxi company.
“Did you get ahold of Charlie yet?” He snaps at the woman.
“No, sir.” She checks the GPS signal. “My computer says that he dropped off Allan at the base of the mountain and is heading back into town.”
“Are you serious!” Rubic’s anger takes a backseat as worry floods his mind. “Thanks.” He ends the call and dials the police.
Rubic paces on the dirt road, sweating and cursing under his breath. Every now and again he hears a noise from the woods, and his eyes focus on the shadows but see nothing. Feelings of dread circle his body and sink deep into his muscles. He’s never been a fighter, but in this moment he is. He wants to fight someone, to punish whoever might have hurt his nephew and his girlfriend.
Finally, after what seems like nine innings of a baseball game, a patrol car pulls up behind the gray van and stops. The officer gets out slowly, slips his baton into a belt loop, looks around cautiously, and adjusts his reflective mirror sunglasses. He approaches Rubic with a distinct swagger of someone who knows they have power.
“Thank God you’re here!” Rubic says. “Two kids and one adult woman are missing since at least eight this morning. They came up here, but are gone now. I found this.” Rubic points out the crushed coffee cup and the cell phone, lying broken on the road. “They’re in trouble, I know it.”
The officer holds up his hand, silencing Rubic. He takes a note pad and pen from his breast pocket. “Give me their names, sir. And your relation.”
“Allan Westerfield and Laura… and Mrs. Domley. I don’t know Mrs. Domley’s first name. Allan is my nephew. I’m his guardian. Allan is fifteen, and Laura is fifteen.”
The officer jots down notes then presses a button on his shoulder radio. “Two missing children and one adult.” He reports their names then adds, “No evidence of ‘At Risk.’”
Rubic’s eyes pop open. “No evidence of at risk? What does that mean?” He thrusts his pointer finger at the broken cell phone on the road. “If that’s not evidence that they’re in trouble, then I’m a turkey sandwich! Come on!”
The officer looks over his shiny glasses. “Sir, calm down please. A dropped cell phone does not directly indicate ‘At Risk.’”
“It’s been smashed!”
The officer looks at the phone again. “That it is. But you might have run it over.”
“I didn’t.”
“Let me do my job, sir.” The officer listens to a reply on his radio. “Amber alert approved, all points.” He looks at Rubic. “When were the teenagers last seen?”
Rubic thinks about his chaotic morning. “I saw Allan last night, actually. He was not in the house this morning. I saw Laura this morning. A lady at the Food Mart saw Laura buy two coffees this morning and head up here.”
“Hrm. I see. Date of birth? Descriptions?”
Rubic relays all the information he can remember. “I don’t have Laura’s information or her mother’s, but I tried calling her. No answer.”
“Do you have a recent photo of the missing persons?”
Rubic flips through his phone and finds a picture of a recent barbecue at the park. In the photo Allan and Laura are smiling wide, and Laura is sitting on the wheelchair armrest with her arm around him. They look happy. Rubic feels a ball of sadness rise into his throat as he hands the photo over. “This is all I have. No photo of Mrs. Domley.”
The officer stares at the photo for a moment. “The youngster in the wheelchair is missing? Are you sure?”
“YES!”
“Okay. You don’t have a printed photo? I’ll need a photo I can keep.”
Rubic rolls his eyes. “No, nothing printed. Can I text you the pic?”
The officer scratches his head. “I don’t know.” He pauses then reluctantly gives Rubic a phone number. He speaks into his radio again. “Dispatch, all we have is a digital photo. Can I text it to you after the guardian texts it to me? Then you can text it to Department of Missing and Abused Children. They can text it to the online bulletin. Maybe I can text
it to Captain Richardson. Oh, and someone text it to search and rescue.”
Rubic is going to jump out of his skin. He paces again. The stoic nature of this entire conversation is maddening. How can this officer be so calm? It feels like Rubic is ordering a pizza with extra cheese and the dingbat taking the order doesn’t know where the extra cheese button on the cash register is.
Another police car pulls up and parks, and an overweight officer hauls himself out. He walks past Rubic, adjusting his belt and looking around. Then two brown ranger Jeeps pull up. In half an hour there are half a dozen officers around. Rubic takes a deep breath, feeling more in control now that the word is getting out.
A state park ranger with a shaggy mustache walks up to Rubic. “Hey, Rubic Westerfield?”
Rubic nods and shakes his hand.
“I was there when Allan disappeared a year ago.” The ranger smiles and Rubic recognizes his face. “Same side of the mountain too, same canyon.”
“I remember you. Thank you for your help then, and now,” Rubic answers. “I’m sorry for this. I don’t know why this is happening again. It’s ridiculous.”
The first officer on the scene interrupts, “Mr. Westerfield, an officer got in contact with Charlie, the taxi driver. He dropped Allan off at your home, fifteen minutes ago.”
“What!!” Rubic’s heart simply stops beating.
“They’re knocking on your door, but no one is answering. Do they have permission to enter your residence?”
“Hell yes! Tell them to break the damn window if they have to.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The officer speaks into his radio.
Rubic falls to his butt, feeling like he’s going to faint. The ranger hands him a water bottle. He feels silly for calling the police. Allan is at home. Rubic looks around at the yellow evidence placards next to the coffee cup and the cell phone. The flock of officers and rangers mill around chatting like at a cocktail party. Rubic had truly jumped the gun. But what about Laura and Mrs. Domley?
The skinny officer returns to Rubic, now towering over him like a giraffe. “Sorry, sir. But Allan is not in the house, and there are signs of a struggle as well.”
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