Where Darkness Dwells (8 page)

"Where we gonna look?" Polk asked to no one in particular. After leaving the town behind, they had fanned out and most of their conversation died off. It was a while before anyone responded.

Bergman broke the silence. "George Banyon didn't take food or other provisions. He wasn't going farther than he could walk from his home. This stretch of field covers between town and the Banyon place. We'll cover the ground surrounding their property first. Also, something scared George enough to carry a gun. Something scared him enough to take his Pa's gun without waking him. Even though George has his own gun, it was important enough to take the over/under without permission."

Cooper was impressed with Bergman's logic. He'd been on the road long enough to know that you don't go off on a long journey without first figuring out what supplies you needed. It also made him question beginning their search with night descending and Bergman's Colt revolver the group's only weapon. If George needed his father's gun for protection, and the boy was somewhere nearby, maybe Bergman was walking them straight into trouble.

A thought crossed Cooper's mind. "What about the boy's dad? Shouldn't we consider where he went?" With the commotion of Ellie running into the Calder's dining room, he'd forgotten the boy's dad was also gone.

"Oh, that's easy. Probably passed out somewhere, as usual," Magee said with a snobbish laugh.

Cooper recalled seeing Magee just this morning snoozing in his barber's chair, a half-bottle of whiskey in his hand. He guessed a drunk would naturally know another's inclination, even while looking down his nose at his peer in vice.

"How old is this boy, anyhow?" Cooper asked.

"What, sixteen-seventeen now?" Polk asked, his dull eyes peering at Magee. In the light of the oil lamp, Polk's eyes gleamed yellow, and his beard stubble seemed as prickly as the thorny undergrowth at their feet.

"Sounds about right. Ellie's no more than about eight. Their parents spread them out pretty good."

"Mr. Banyon's a surly sonofa-bee." As Polk walked, he turned the valve to brighten his lamp.

"Sure is. Makes Hank Calder look like a choirboy," Magee said as he watched Polk. "You just don't know what you're doing at all. Give me that." Magee took charge of holding the lamp.

Cooper noticed movement at the top of the slight rise they were cresting. Judging his abrupt halt, Bergman also took note. The field they'd been crossing for the last half hour was transitioning to forest. A green wall of trees provided a backdrop for the movement; two people in the distance, steadily approaching.

For the moment, Magee and Polk seemed more concerned about the oil lamp than finding the boy. Magee played with the lamp's valve as Polk held its handle.

Cooper surged past them, moving toward the others. "Bergman," Cooper whispered. "
Sheriff Bergman.
"

Bergman held a hand up, "Yeah, I see it, Coop," the sheriff said, then blurted in a louder voice, "Everyone get down!" He motioned to the others. The doctor took Ellie's hand and they both kneeled in the grass. Having not heard Bergman's order, Polk and Magee continued walking toward the front of the group. Polk looked like a scolded child as they walked. Magee held the lamp, his chest puffed out like the victor of a great battle.

"Who is it?" Cooper asked, keeping his voice low.

"Don't know, but if something happened to George, I don't want to take a chance."

As Polk and Magee approached, they finally noticed the sheriff motioning for them to get down. They ducked down, continuing to bicker in quieter voices.

The approaching people disappeared into a gully. Cooper was beginning to question his reasoning for joining this search party. If he didn't know this boy at all, why was he putting himself in possible danger?

Ellie's tears were Cooper's answer. Seeing the little girl crouched in the damp grass, the unsettling pain etched into her face, he'd do whatever he could to help find her brother.

Bergman inched over to a mass of bushes, never letting his eyes stray from the approaching people. He pulled his Colt from his belt holster and raised it to firing height. He cocked the weapon, holding his position.

Someone rustled through the underbrush, silencing the chirruping crickets. Someone stumbled, followed by a raspy whisper, "You should've stayed home. I didn't want you out here like this."

While not familiar, the voice carried an unexpected quality. It was feminine.

"Don't move! Stay right where you are!"

After a shocked silence, the woman replied, "It's okay, sheriff, it's just us." She was still not visible behind a blanket of brambles.

"Just do as I say, and I'll say when you can move," Bergman's voice wavered as he approached the newcomers.

The tension eased from Cooper's limbs. He stood slowly, and the others followed suit.

"Larry, you better stop pointing that gun at me and my son!" As the woman's voice rose, its raspy quality smoothed to a light, almost lilting tone.

"Jane Fowler, what in the world are you doing out here in the middle of the night, and with Jacob, too?" Bergman looked exasperated. His face seemed to sag, and the yellow moon made his skin appear pasty and unwashed.

"Larry, the gun?" Jane Fowler said, the frustration in her voice evident.

"I'm sorry, Jane." Bergman lowered his gun.

Jane pushed aside the undergrowth and stood with her son in a small clearing. Mud caked her clothes. A ripped leaf clung to her hair. They both looked wrung through.

Cooper made his way toward Bergman, seeing Jacob at a better angle. He looked like a broomstick with limbs, no more than thirteen or so. His eyes were dark and would probably appear equally dark in the daylight or at night. Without knowing the boy, Cooper figured Jacob's sad expression was nothing new, as if he wore layers of sadness like winter clothing.

"I've known you since I looked after you and your sisters. How dare you point a gun at me and Jacob!"

"Jane, I… well, how was I supposed to know it was you? We got a situation out here and we got to be ready for anything."

"Situation? What situation? You mean you're actually playing policeman! You always loved that game when you were a little one. Or are you playing cowboys and Indians?"

"Come on now, Jane. I'm serious."

"Georgie's missing," Ellie interrupted as she walked to the center of this impromptu gathering.

"Since when?" Jacob asked. His voice was somewhere between being a boy's and being a man's--scratchy and warbled in an effort to find a balance.

"Last night. Real late," Ellie said. The two youngest people in the group had taken over the conversation.

"That makes sense now." Jacob nodded slowly.

"What makes sense, Jacob?" Bergman cut in.

"Well, for starters, Jimmy's gone, too. That's why me and Mom are out here. Jimmy and George must be together."

"You both look a mess," Ellie said, sizing up their muddied clothes and haggard faces. "No offense, Mrs. Fowler."

"None taken, dear. We've been at it all day." Jane sounded heartbroken, but her face held strong. Her fatigue could have been mistaken for stoicism.

"You've been looking for Jimmy all day and didn't bother to get help?" Magee asked. He still held Polk's lamp. Polk stood behind Magee, almost out of view. He looked dejected, and his eyes never left the back of Magee's head. "People would'a come to help you, Jane," Magee added.

"Oh, would they?" she said, an edge to her voice.

"We could've rallied more people than this if we had more time, then maybe by now we'd know where the boys are," Bergman said.

"I don't want any help," Jane said as she shoved by Bergman. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go find my son." She gave Ellie a knowing look and patted her shoulder before exiting the circle. "Come on Jacob, time's wasting. I want both my boys home in time for breakfast." She didn't look back.

Jacob took off in a gangly trot to catch his mother. The others watched as the Fowlers walked away.

"We can't just let them go," Polk said in a small voice.

"No, we can't. I say we go with them. There's safety in numbers," Dr. Thompson said. The lamplight caught and accentuated his every wrinkle. He looked ragged after only a short while searching. "Plus, we can compare notes, see what ground they've covered so far." After a moment's hesitation and silence from the others, he grabbed Ellie's hand. She went without question as he headed in the direction Jane Fowler had gone. Polk was the next to leave.

"I'm in charge here. We can't just split up like this," Bergman said.

Magee followed Polk, taking the oil lamp with him. The ground where Cooper stood darkened with the barber's every step. Cooper wanted to head back to his rented room and sink into the deep and inviting bed. If he decided to head back at this point, he wouldn't make it back to Calder's without getting lost himself. He shrugged at Bergman, then started in the direction the others had gone.

Jane never acknowledged her growing search party. They let her lead and no one said much as they weaved through a heavily wooded area. The group moved slower than when Bergman led and would stop when Jane raised a hand for them to halt. She would strain to hear the slightest sound, her eyes closed, her neck craning. Disappointed, she would motion for them to start again. With Jane and Jacob a few paces ahead of Polk and Magee, the party climbed a steep hill. Cooper walked with Ellie and the doctor. Jane seemed to be a better leader than Bergman. She certainly had more at stake than the sheriff, and was as alert and irritable as a poked badger.

Cooper glanced over his shoulder. Bergman followed thirty paces behind. His glare made Cooper look away. The sheriff was in a foul mood, and Cooper sensed that he shouldn't be in Bergman's way if he felt like taking it out on someone.

At the top of the hill, Cooper had a feeling he knew where they were, at least in relation to the railroad tracks. The raised rail line curved west, disappearing into a thicket. He confirmed his feeling when he saw the sagging farmhouse where he'd made camp the night before. Along the side of the house would be the red water pump that spouted the coldest watered he'd ever tasted. Seeing the rise of the gabled roof, the overgrown bushes, the snarled trees, Cooper had an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. Of course he'd seen the house before, just this morning, but the sensation didn't feel tied to earlier today. This was different.

Cooper asked, "Whose house is that atop the hill?"

"That's the Blankenship place. Or used to be," Dr. Thompson said, the only person to acknowledge Cooper's question. "Now, I guess it's left to the animals, the forest creatures and such. Too bad, too. It used to be a fine house."

"Who was Blankenship?"

"Reverend Horace Blankenship. He and his wife Eunice lived there. At one point the place was filled up with kids and grandkids, but long after the kids had moved on to other locales, the Blankenships left without a word in the middle of the night."

"Why's that Doc?"

"Not sure, really. Some say it was Harvard Square putting pressure on Horace for the mortgage. Don't know. But that was long ago. Decades."

"No one bought out the lot?"

"There was some interest after the bank took possession, but there's plenty of land out this way to build your own house. As time went on, the forest started creeping in on the property. By now, you'd have to put in some major work to re-clear the plot. And the house? A shambles."

Cooper felt drawn to the house. He kept an eye on it, nearly stumbling into Polk's feet.

Thompson was quiet, his information exhausted. The doctor looked down on Ellie, and the poor girl looked too tired to walk. She put up a good front as she trudged on. Cooper nodded his thanks, then picked up his pace to catch the Fowlers.

Jacob was taller than his mother, which made her seem even smaller. Earlier, she had said she use to watch Bergman when he was a child, and with Cooper thinking the sheriff was about thirty, that put her at least thirty-five. Even so, she looked younger than Bergman, and as she walked with Jacob, she looked too young to have two nearly grown sons.

The moon had fallen behind the trees and their only light was Polk's oil lamp still in Magee's possession. As they left the Blankenship property behind and descended the steady downhill, they entered a small valley steeped in damp fog. A surge of cool, earthy air brushed Cooper's face.