tell the person left in a hurry.
I had been heading up the slope almost an hour when my legs began to scream
for a break. I stopped, hunched over in pain. Breathing came heavily, each
attempt a hot knife in my chest. My head was spinning and I felt my side again,
found fresh blood still pumping. My tie slipped over my head and into my front
pocket. I removed the tee from my back pocket, tore it in two, and wrapped my
body with it. Tears filled my eyes as I staggered. The soft earth caught me
forgivingly. I remained there for a while, I’m not sure how long because it
felt so good. I lifted myself, knowing I had to go on. I knew the footprints
would lead me to safety or to Dean Brown. Either way, my path lay along theirs.
I struggled against the terrain and my body to go on for hours. The shirt
had stopped my bleeding and the fog in my mind cleared. Clear headed, the pain
intensified. My vision was blurred by tears and I had a hard time finding my
way through the dark. I stumbled over countless rocks, fallen trees, and other
impediments along the way. I never lost the prints, though. I’m not sure when
it was, probably early morning, I fell over a rock into a clearing.
It was about twenty feet across, lit by the light of the now visible half
moon. At the other end stood a pile of dirt and rocks. I noticed a specific
dark spot. It was not a shadow, but a hole. I followed the trail across the
clearing and it led me to the hole. I knelt, trying to see inside. It was
about three feet across, probably an old fox’s burrow. I circled the mound
slowly searching for continuation of the trail, thinking the person might have
walked over the burrow to throw off followers. I returned to the mouth of the
opening and dropped to my knees.
I started in head first. The passage was tight and painful, jagged
stone scraping my already abused body. I paused, my heart racing and dizzy from
straining to see in the pitch black. My body grew warmer as I went deeper into
the hole. About ten feet in, my fingers felt thin, dry stalks of straw on the
floor. I crawled further in, until my knees felt the same. I lifted myself
into a kneeling position and pushed the button on the flashlight.
A man was curled up in the corner. The light woke him and he shot up,
eyes blinking. The absence of his shirt revealed his pale white skin, criss-
crossed with crimson lines. His hair was no longer slicked back and his face
now showed the emotion of fear, but I could still see it was Dean Brown.
I backed myself up to the mouth of the hole, held the flashlight at him
like a sword. ?I’ve been looking for you, Dean.? I set the flashlight down
beside me and pulled out the flare gun with caution. ?Just stay calm, I am not
going to try anything, look at me.? I kept it pointed at him, but relaxed a
little. ?Why did you run, Dean, why are you here??
His brown eyes were wide, unblinking in an intense stare. “Who are you?”
“I am John Caulsworth, a federal agent. I was assigned to find you and
bring you in. What happened?”
“The bastards deserved to die!” Tears came to his eyes, his face red as a
stoplight. He sniffled and the words tumbled out in a rush. ?They ran us over,
I barely got him out of the way. It was the mayor’s security. As his
accountant, I discovered he was corrupt and refused to bury it. He fired me on
the spot.? He shuddered and took a breath. ?They could have just taken me, but
left me instead. I couldn’t let him live after that. He stole my life! And I
can’t let you stop me.? Brown let go of his tension, and sat down. ?I’ve got to
get my son and you’re not going to get in my way, nothing will.? I looked again
into his eyes, swollen and wet as a boxer’s. ?I broke out for my son, I need to
save him.?
“Save him? What do you mean?”
“I know he is in my parents’ custody. They’re beating him, just like me.
I almost died, I can’t let that happen to Davey. He’s all I’ve got left.? Brown
held out a picture from his pocket. ?He’s what I live for and this is all I
have of him. I can’t let him hurt again.”
I set the flare gun aside and accepted the photo.
A man lay in a hospital bed, bandaged and casted. Beside him stood a young
boy, on crutches. They were holding hands and each managed a smile. The photo
was torn on the top corners, a crease down the middle. The back read ‘My only
son’.
He grabbed it back from me. “I’m barely hanging on here, and without Davey
I’m not alive. My family was the only thing that mattered to me, and he’s all
that’s left.”
I reached into my pocket and withdrew the tie. Mud concealed the red
fabric. I tried to think of John. My mind strained to see his face, hear his
voice. A tear rolled down my cheek and fell off my chin onto the tie. I
loosened the knot and slipped it back over my head. With my sleeve, I wiped my
face.
I lifted the flashlight, switched it off and tossed it to him. “Take it.”
I turned away and started back into the world.
Hendricks’ team found me a few miles west of the hole. They airlifted me
to the Olympia hospital. I was treated for a broken clavicle and shoulder blade,
along with my ribs. The tissue damage to my back and side was extensive and I
have little use of either. After two days they released me.
The next day, I received a call from Franklin, in Boise. I was commended
by him for putting myself on the line. He granted me early retirement, and a
bonus for being injured. He asked if I might know anything about the
disappearance of David Brown from his grandparents’ house in the middle of the
night. I told him I did not. I bid him farewell, hung up, and dialed John’s
number at school.