Chapter 21

For as hot as the desert would eventually get during the day, the morning had dawned cool and crisp, and it was the one thing Roy was grateful for. With the windows rolled down to take in the fresh air, the noises of the highway covered up some of the despondent silence in the cab of the camper.

The call Roy and Joanne had been waiting for and dreading had finally come to their hotel room about eleven thirty last night. Jennifer had fallen asleep waiting for Johnny Carson to come on. Joanne and Roy had gone through the motions of getting ready for bed, but they both knew neither of them was going to be getting much sleep. They'd settled up against the headboard, Joanne nestled under Roy's arm, her head pillowed on his chest, and watched the end of the nightly news until the “Tonight Show” started. It wouldn't take their minds off their son, but it would at least serve as a diversion. But before the monologue even got going, the shrill ring of the telephone had startled them all.

Roy could still remember vividly the images of his wife and daughter, still as statues as they waited for him to tell them. And when he did, Jennifer had clutched her pillow to her mouth to stifle her cry of dismay. Joanne had sagged against him, her shoulders convulsing with silent sobs.

The police in San Bernardino had found Johnny's Rover. John was not in it.

The rest of the night had dragged by with agonizing slowness. The police had told them there was no reason to drive down that night. They could come by in the morning and make a positive I.D. on the Rover and any of theirs or Johnny's belongings. They were still interrogating the two teenagers they'd found with the truck, but so far they were sticking to their story that they hadn't seen anyone but Johnny. There was still an ABP out on John, and his picture was being circulated to law enforcement agencies throughout California, Nevada and Arizona.

Roy had listened to this information with numbed acceptance. After all, a part of him had been preparing for this news since he'd seen Johnny's battered body lying in the desert. But it hadn't been so simple for Joanne. The next few hours had been the hardest in Roy's life as he lay in the dark holding his wife and whispering meaningless words of comfort into her ear as she alternated between being racked with sobs and being frighteningly quiet. He'd heard Jennifer's muffled sniffling for some time before his daughter had finally fallen silent, crying herself to sleep at last. There were a few times he thought Joanne had allowed herself the comfort of that nothingness. He knew he'd dozed a few times, only to jerk himself awake again hoping it had all been a bad dream, but knowing it wasn't. So he lay there in the dark, listening to the sounds of cars passing on the nearby highway.

And in the middle of that desperate darkness; confused with all the fragile hopes and agonizing doubts and glimpses of utter despair, Roy recognized another feeling so intense it frightened him - anger. Anger at two teenagers he didn't even know, who may have changed all their lives irrevocably; anger at himself for not being able to do anything to help his family; for not being able to prevent this somehow. But what frightened him the most was the anger he felt for John Gage.

He knew it was irrational. Johnny hadn't asked to be beaten and left for dead. Johnny certainly would never have purposely put John's life in danger. And Roy knew Johnny probably did everything within his power to try and protect John. But there was still that small voice in Roy's head that kept asking the same questions over and over.

Why were you on that road, Johnny? Why did you get off the freeway? Why didn't you tell me where you were? What were you doing with my son in the middle of nowhere?

He'd wrestled with those thoughts most of the night, knowing they made no sense, but helpless to stop them. By the time the sun rose and its rays peeked through the slight gap in the heavy curtains, Roy was more exhausted than when he'd gone to bed. And when he got up to use the bathroom, he saw that Joanne was awake as well, her eyes still red and puffy from the tears she wasn't able to stop.

Even though it was barely six a.m., Roy decided they might as well get going. They still had a two-hour drive ahead of them before they got to the police station. Loma Linda wasn't far from there. They could go pick up Chris, and by then hopefully Johnny would be improved enough to be able to talk to them - and the police. And remembering what Chris had told them last night about Johnny's memory, Roy was praying that had improved as well. If Johnny could just remember something; give them some idea where to narrow the search. Right now the police were trying to scour as area so vast it would be a miracle if they managed to find one small boy.

They'd packed up quickly on that Wednesday morning, with few words spoken. No one was interested in eating, but Roy insisted they walk across the parking lot and get some breakfast. They spent about twenty minutes there. Jennifer managed to finish most of her scrambled eggs and toast, but Joanne merely pushed hers around on her plate. Roy only got a few bites down himself, along with about half a cup of coffee, before they gave up the attempt, paid the bill and left.

As they climbed into the camper and Roy pulled out of the lot and onto the road, his feelings were torn. On the one hand, he had never been so glad to leave a place as he was this small speck of civilization in the middle of the desert. Yet, as he merged onto the fifteen, he couldn't help feeling that he was abandoning his youngest son; a feeling that grew more and more intense with each passing mile.

What Roy tried his best not to think about during the long drive across the desert, and as they climbed over the Cajon Pass and headed down into the San Bernardino Valley, was what if John had been with the two teenagers; what if they were lying to the police; what if they'd hurt his little boy. Every time that still very real possibility crossed his mind he felt such a sense of outrage boil up inside of him that it left him shaking. So he concentrated on his driving. And he tried not to look at Joanne's haggard face. He tried not to see Jennifer's wide, frightened eyes in the rear view mirror.

The city of San Bernardino appeared first as a collection of homes here and there, then a few roadside businesses, a church, a Denny's. It grew in the blink of an eye to a sprawling community that reached from the base of the San Bernardino Mountain Range nearly all the way to the L.A. County line. Roy had really only driven through here before. It was a place people passed through; either to get to Big Bear or Lake Arrowhead, or to make the longer trip to Las Vegas. He'd never thought much about people actually living here, but he should have. He knew the population here was more than double that of Carson. He supposed he'd always considered the Inland Empire, with its large rural areas, a sort of backward cousin to its more metropolitan neighbors of Los Angeles and Orange Counties. Now, as he spotted the 5^th Street exit he'd been told to take to get to City Hall, he hoped their law enforcement agencies would surprise him as well and prove themselves up to the task of finding his son.

He turned onto "D" Street, spotted the large, obviously new civic center and pulled the camper into the parking lot. It was mostly empty this early in the morning, and when he killed the engine it was suddenly too quiet. Roy could hear birds chirping in the trees that lined the street. He glanced at Joanne, then reached over and squeezed her hand.

"We shouldn't have to be here long," he promised. He knew she was anxious to get to the hospital and talk to Johnny; to see if the morning had brought any of his memories back with it.

She managed to give him a weak smile before she opened the door and got out of the truck, turning to push her seat forward to allow Jennifer to get out. Roy climbed out and came around to the passenger side just as his daughter was stepping down.

"I sure won't be sorry not to have to ride in this thing anymore," Jennifer said with a small chuckle.

Roy leaned over and kissed the top of her blonde head, grateful for the effort she was making to lighten the mood a little.

"Sorry, princess," he told her. "Next time, I'll splurge and get the King Cab."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Joanne observed with a soft smile.

Roy knew his wife and daughter well enough to know they were both trying to be strong. They'd cried their tears during the long night and were now ready to face whatever this day brought. Ironically, his pride in their resolve now brought tears to his own eyes and he had to work to keep them back. He took refuge in playing along with them.

"Hey, what is this? Gang up on Dad day?" he demanded with mock indignation. "I'm not that cheap."

Mother and daughter both laughed lightly. Roy slipped his arm around Joanne's waist as they started walking toward the building. Jennifer made to follow them, but stopped and grabbed Roy's arm.

"Dad, look."

Roy halted and turned to where his daughter was pointing. He heard Joanne's sharp intake of breath at the same time he saw the white Land Rover parked in an out of the way corner of the lot. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew it would be here. The detective he'd spoken with last night told him it wouldn't go to impound until the DeSotos had come in to make the positive I.D. But to suddenly see Johnny's truck sitting there, the spare tire missing from its usual place on the hood, only served as a dark reminder of why they were here in the first place.

Roy's arm tightened a little around Joanne's waist, but she didn't falter, so Roy walked on with her. Jennifer followed in their wake, but she kept casting longing looks over her shoulder at the Rover. Roy finally reached back and took her hand, pulling her forward to walk alongside her parents.

"It'll be okay, Jen," he assured her in the most confident tone he could manage.

"It should've been me," she whispered.

Roy and Joanne both stopped. Their daughter's face was stricken with guilt.

"I was supposed to ride with Uncle Johnny yesterday," she said raggedly. "But John started whining about it, so I let him." She looked up at them with tear filled eyes. "John should be here with you..."

She left the rest unsaid, but Roy didn't even want to think about what might have happened had his fifteen year old daughter been with Johnny on that road when two violent teenagers found them. He tried desperately to think of something consoling to say, but Joanne moved out from his hold and took Jenny into her arms. Jennifer's head fell against her mother's neck, and Roy could see her shoulders shuddering with the effort not to cry.

"It's all right, baby," Joanne soothed, one hand combing through Jennifer's long, blonde hair. "It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself."

Roy didn't move to interfere. They both needed this. Jennifer needed her mother's assurance that she hadn't done anything wrong and that the world that was so topsy turvy right now would eventually return to normal. And Joanne needed to be able to comfort one of her children, even if it wasn't the one she most desperately ached to hold in her arms.

After a few moments, Joanne reached into her purse and pulled out a Kleenex. Jennifer daubed at her eyes, then blew her nose. Her mother must have asked her something Roy didn't hear, for Jenny nodded once and squared her shoulders resolutely. Joanne glanced at Roy, her eyes telling him they were ready to go on.

They entered the building and explained to the uniformed officer at the desk who they were. After a few moments wait a middle aged Hispanic man, wearing a gray suit with the tie hanging loose around his neck, came into the lobby to greet them. As he reached out to shake their hands, Roy noted the man had dark circles under his eyes. This man who looked as tired as Roy felt; had more than likely been up all night working on this case.

"I'm Detective Salazar," he informed them with a kind smile. "I work with Detective Andrews... he talked to you on the phone last night." When Roy nodded his recognition, the man continued. "Why don't you come into my office. I've got hot coffee if you'd like... and some fresh donuts. You know cops and donuts," he quipped with a wry grin and a pat to his slightly paunchy stomach.

He led them down a hall and past a maze of offices and cubicles until he stopped at a door bearing his name and opened it for them. Roy let Jennifer and Joanne go ahead of him, then he followed them in. They took seats across from the detective's desk, while he sat down behind it.

"I wish we had better news for you," he began regretfully. "These boys are still sticking to their story that they never saw your son."

"Do you believe them?" Roy asked evenly.

Salazar shook his head. "I don't know what to think right now."

He opened a file and took out a couple of pages with photos attached. He placed them on his desk facing the DeSotos so they could see. Roy leaned forward slightly and saw the faces in the pictures. One looked sullen, the other scared, but they were both just boys.

"They're so young," Joanne breathed out, echoing Roy's thoughts.

"They're nineteen," the detective replied tersely. "Old enough to be tried as adults. Old enough to know what they were doing." He tapped the first one with his index finger.

"This kid, Shawn Reynolds, was evidently high when he attacked Chief Gage. He had several joints in his pocket. The lab says they were laced with PCP. The story from the other kid backs that up. We're not getting much cooperation from Shawn. He's got a smart mouth and a big attitude. Won't talk without a lawyer." Salazar snorted derisively. "His folks are coming in this morning... with their lawyer."

"But this kid..." His finger moved to the second photo, "this kid is crying his eyes out and telling us everything... how they stole a car in Huntington Beach, went for a joy ride to Vegas. How they met up with some guys there and that's how his buddy got the dope. He says they only wanted to switch cars... they were afraid the one they took from Orange County would be too hot. So they waited for Gage to change his tire, then they took it."

"After beating Johnny so badly he nearly died," Roy interjected grimly.

The detective nodded. "Unfortunately, yes." He indicated the second photo. "According to this kid, Danny Wyatt, Chief Gage told them to take the truck. He didn't want to fight them."

Jennifer made a small sound in her throat. "I told you, guys," she said softly, her voice full of sad vindication. "I told you Uncle Johnny wouldn't do anything to put John in danger."

Joanne let her hand rest on Jennifer's knee in a soothing gesture. Roy felt his throat tightening at the image that came to his mind of his friend willing to give up one of his most treasured possessions to keep Roy's son safe. And that the gesture had proven meaningless in the end because of some hopped up punk.

"But..." He had to clear his throat before he could get his voice under control. "But they didn't just take the Rover."'

"No," Salazar stated with regret. "Danny says Shawn went berserk and attacked Gage with the tire iron. He says it was because of the dope, but that eventually he was able to convince Shawn to stop and that they took off."

"And John?" Joanne asked. Roy could hear the quaver in his wife's voice, but she managed not to give in to the tears. "Nothing about John?"

"I'm sorry, no." The detective took the papers and replaced the in the file. "We're still questioning them. It's possible they're lying... trying to cover up. But we're also working on the possibility that your son was in the back of the car hiding amongst the camping gear, and then got out without them seeing him. They stopped for gas in Barstow and then here in town for burgers. The Barstow police are on the case, and our guys are canvassing the area surrounding the McDonald's where we found these two."

"So it all still comes down to whether or not Johnny can remember what happened," Roy concluded. "Have you talked to him yet?"

"No. I have a man at the hospital, but so far the doctors haven't let him in. That's where you're going from here, right? Maybe by the time you get there he'll be able to have visitors. If you can get him to recall anything... anything at all... it would be a big help."

They spent about thirty more minutes at the police station. They signed some forms, then Roy left Joanne and Jennifer in Detective Salazar's office while he went with the officer, since he didn't think his wife or daughter needed to be put through this ordeal. They went first to the parking lot to make a visual I.D. on the Rover, and then to the evidence room where he saw Johnny's camping equipment spread over a long table. The officer in charge of the evidence room offered him an inventory sheet, and Roy signed it with only a cursory glance. He assumed it was all there. He wouldn't really know if anything was missing, but he didn't think that mattered a whole lot right now.

When they were done, Detective Salazar walked the DeSotos to their camper, trying his best to assure them they were doing everything that could possibly be done. He also gave them the name of the officer at the hospital, a Sergeant Sam Preston, who had instructions to be of whatever help he could be when they arrived at Loma Linda.

Roy pulled out of the parking lot, wondering what exactly they'd accomplished. He was realistic enough to know that he wouldn't be allowed to see the two boys in custody, but he couldn't help wishing he'd been left alone in a room with them, even for five minutes.

­­­­­­~ ~ ~

For a long time Johnny lay still; almost awake but not willing to open his eyes. His head ached miserably, and he'd quickly found even the slightest movement increased the throbbing inside his skull to an intensity he felt all the way to his teeth. So he was almost afraid to lift his eyelids; afraid of what further misery the light might bring; afraid even that little movement would send the pain to a level that would set the room spinning and his stomach churning.

Eventually, whether because the pain subsided somewhat or he'd merely become accustomed to it Johnny wasn't sure, but he found he was able to focus on something else besides the constant drumming behind his eyes. It was only then that he grew aware enough to know that he was in a bed that wasn't his own. After a few moments of cloudy confusion, he finally placed the muffled beeping and the stiffness of the sheets. He was in a hospital, and his curiosity about how he'd gotten here overcame his caution. He opened his eyes.

What he saw was blurry, and he blinked slowly a few times. It helped a little, but his vision didn't completely clear. He could see the white smear above him that had to be ceiling tiles, and a bank of machines to his right that bore an array of amber lights and readouts. That had to be where all the noise was coming from. He recognized an I.V. pole beside him, and his gaze followed it upward where a couple of half full bags of clear fluids hung. He couldn't read what they were so he let his eyes moved downward, tracing the tubing to the cannula in his right arm.

He closed his eyes again, trying to wade through the pain and fog to get to something concrete; something that made sense.

Okay... I'm here... I'm hooked up... but what... what the hell happened? I was... I was supposed to be.... dammit, where was I supposed to be? Camping? That's right... I was camping... with Roy and Joanne and the kids. What the hell happened? This isn't where I'm s'posed to be...

"Johnny? Johnny, can you hear me?"

The voice broke through his confusion and he automatically turned to his left to see who had called him. He instantly regretted it.

The ache in his head sharpened dramatically, and as he drew in a breath against it, his left side sent out an excruciating warning not to breathe so deeply anymore. Even the grimace he made against the pain didn't come without a price, as even his face seemed to hurt.

"Johnny... Johnny, take it easy... you're gonna be all right... you're gonna be all right..."

The voice kept up the soothing litany, and he used it to focus on until the worst of the pain began to subside. By that time his breaths were coming in short, shallow gulps and he could feel the sweat rolling down his face, but he could at last recognize who was talking to him. He risked opening his eyes again, keeping his head movement to a minimum. Sitting to his left and leaning over him slightly was Roy. Even with his vision fuzzy, Johnny could make out the concern on his friend's face. And there was something else there. Johnny squinted a bit to try and see better.

"Rrr..." His mouth was dry and he licked his lips. They felt rough against his tongue and tasted of ointment. "Rrroy?" he managed.

"I'm right here. Take it easy, okay. Try not to move around too much."

"Nnn... no... no shhhiit," he replied and tried to lift one corner of his mouth. He wasn't sure if he succeeded. He must not have, for Roy didn't even chuckle. That lack of response was enough to trigger an alarm bell in Johnny's head that even in the midst of all the pounding he couldn't ignore.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to bring Roy into better focus. He saw the worry there, and that other thing he hadn't been able to place before; a weariness that his friend wore like a weight on his shoulders.

"Roy?" He licked his lips again, forgetting about the nasty tasting ointment. "Roy, what... what happened, man?" He turned his gaze down at the bed, took in the cast on his arm and his elevated leg. The only thing he could think of was that he'd taken a fall while hiking. "Did I... did I have an accident?" And then another thought jolted through him; one that sent a wave of panic washing over him. "Are... are the kids... are the kids okay?"

Something flashed across Roy's face and Johnny damned his uncertain vision that he couldn't read what it was. Instinctively he made to reach for Roy's arm, to make contact with his friend, but not only did it hurt like hell when he tried to reach across with his right arm, the I.V. kept him from extending far enough. He made a sound that was a cross between a gasp of pain and a grunt of frustration, and he felt Roy gently push his arm back down to rest on the bedside.

"Don't do that," the captain admonished hoarsely. "You'll pull your I.V."

Johnny ignored the gentle reproof and swallowed hard against the new sweep of nausea his imprudent jostling had caused.

"Roy," he persisted stubbornly. "Roy... tell me..."

Roy sat silent for a moment, and Johnny's mind kept itself busy by creating a multitude of scenarios about what might have happened; none of them good. Finally Roy brushed a hand over his face and heaved a weary sigh.

"Johnny... Johnny, what do you remember? What's the last thing you remember doing?"

Johnny frowned in concentration, wondering why it was so important what he remembered. Why couldn't Roy just come out and tell him? Why did they want him to think when it was so hard, and it hurt so bad? But it must matter to somebody. Someone else had asked him before. Someone else had wanted to know.

"I..." He swallowed again and felt a straw pressed to his lips. He took a few grateful sips of water and saw Roy set the glass down on rolling tray that had been pushed aside. "I think... I think we were eating dinner," he started again. "Those... those trout we caught. And... and..." He had to stop a moment to get the pictures straight in his head. "And John... John wanted to hear 'bout Katori." He tried to smile again and thought he'd had better luck with this attempt. "Big... big surprise, right?"

He stopped and closed his eyes. His headache hadn't abated and he was more exhausted than he'd thought possible by the small amount of talking he'd done. He lay there breathing in shallow pants for some time, until he finally realized Roy hadn't said anything. He opened his eyes again and saw Roy still sitting beside him, but with his head bowed.

"Roy?"

The captain's head came up.

"Roy, you're... you're scarin' me, man," he murmured breathlessly.

"Johnny..." Roy's normally calm voice was ragged. "Johnny, what you remember... that happened two nights ago. We packed up yesterday morning... to go home."

Johnny started to shake his head to argue that point, but stopped as the room started whirling again. Roy hadn't seemed to notice in any case. His eyes were again fixed on his hands where they rested on the edge of Johnny's bed.

"We'd gotten almost to Baker when you got a flat tire. You stopped to change it, only... only you were carjacked, Johnny. Two teenagers out joyriding... they needed to change cars and yours looked good to them, I guess." Roy let his eyes lift again to meet Johnny's. "Does any of that sound familiar? Do you remember stopping? Getting the flat?"

There was a degree of desperation in Roy's voice that Johnny had never heard before. And for some reason it had to do with Johnny remembering his Rover being stolen. But as hard as he tried to, he couldn't recall any of it. The only images in his mind were grilling fish, roasted marshmallows and John's delighted face as he listened to the legend of Katori for what had to be the hundredth time. And that's where it ended. Johnny didn't really even remember going to bed that night, though he did remember he and the kids had planned to all sleep in the tent to give Roy and Joanne a night to themselves.

And then something else hit him. A flash of a conversation with Jennifer. He didn't know where they'd had it; if it had been over dinner or before they'd fallen asleep. But he could hear her voice clearly in his head.

Is it okay if I ride with you tomorrow, Uncle Johnny? It's so cramped in that jump seat, and Chris's legs always stretch over to my half. Please...

He stared at Roy, a dark dread settling in his heart. If the teens who took his truck did this to him, what would they have done to a pretty fifteen year old girl?

Oh, God! Please don't tell me Jenny was with me. Don't let Jenny be hurt.

"Roy? Roy... you gotta tell me." he whispered. "Is Jenny... is Jenny okay?"

There was a brief look of confusion on Roy's face. "Jenny? Jenny's fine. Why would..." Then he paused, and even with his fuzzy vision, Johnny could see the comprehension dawning. After a moment's hesitation, Roy shook his head sadly. "Jennifer's fine, Johnny. She wasn't with you."

Johnny should have been relieved, but for some reason he wasn't. There was a heavy silence still hanging between them, and Roy wasn't smiling. Instead of being happy his daughter was safe, Roy still looked on the verge of tears. When the tension in the room had reached the point where Johnny didn't think he could take anymore, Roy at last spoke again.

"John was riding with you."

Johnny's stomach lurched and for the longest time he couldn't get his voice to work - didn't want to ask the question. All he could see was John's happy face; his eyes dancing with excitement as he sat by the campfire and listened to Johnny tell Gray Wolf's stories; as eager as if he was hearing them for the first time. Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, disregarding the irritation it caused his face. Nothing could have happened to him; not to his Little Pally.

"Is... is he... is he okay?" he heard himself ask in a voice so low he wasn't sure if Roy could hear him. But Roy did.

"We, uh... we don't know."

"What?" Johnny's eyes opened once more, this time in confusion, his head pounding and the room revolving at a sickening speed. "What... what do you mean?" he croaked out despite the nauseating reeling.

Roy stood up quickly and turned away from the bed, as if it was suddenly too hard to sit there. As Johnny's gaze followed his friend he saw for the first time the other man in the room. He was a stranger, and he stood at the door taking notes on a small pad.

"Roy?"

"This is Sergeant Preston, Johnny," Roy informed him, his back still angled away. "He's here to see if he can get a statement from you. But I guess..." Roy waved a hand distractedly at the policeman, then turned back to Johnny, his face wearing a stricken and defeated expression. "John's missing," he blurted out, his voice breaking on the last word. "He wasn't with you when the police found you, and he wasn't in the Rover when they found it."

With that, Roy walked out of the room, pushing through the door without saying another word. Johnny watched him go, his heart sinking as the full meaning of what Roy had told him settled into comprehension.

John was riding with me, but he wasn't there when they found me. Oh, God, what've I done? What've I done? They don't know where he is... they don't know what's happened. They were counting on me to protect him and I lost him. And now they need me to help find him and I can't even remember a fuckin' thing.

He couldn't blame Roy for being mad, or for walking out on him. Hell, it was probably all Roy could do to keep from finishing the job the two teens had started. His hands curled up into impotent fists, his right one pounding feebly on the mattress.

God dammit, why do I do this? Why do I always let everybody down? I can't keep anybody from getting hurt.

His eyes squeezed shut, and he felt the tears that leaked out from the corners to run down into his hair. Knowing they were there sparked an inner rage.

That's just great, Gage. Lay here cryin' like a baby while everybody you know is hurtin' 'cause of you. John... God, John... where are you?

"Chief Gage?"

Johnny opened his eyes to see the blurry form of the police officer standing at the foot of his bed.

"Chief Gage, I know this is hard... I don't wanna bother you any more than necessary, but if you could just take a look here..." He walked up to the side of the bed and pulled out a couple of photos from his suit pocket, holding them close enough for the injured man to see.

Johnny stared at them numbly. There were just two boys. One looked scared and the other looked like he was a punk. But that was all. They didn't look any more familiar than any two teenaged boys he'd pass on the street. If these were the kids who'd attacked him and stolen the Rover, then Johnny certainly wasn't going to be of any help prosecuting them. If these two boys had hurt John...

Johnny couldn't look any longer. With a desperate growl, he lifted his right arm and pushed the man's hand away, knowing as he did it, he'd pulled his I.V. But that was the least of his problems. The sudden surge of energy was too much for his battered body. His head exploded in blinding agony, and he was only aware enough that he was going to be sick to turn his head to the side.

In between the heaves that rocked his body and pierced his side with searing pain, he thought he heard the officer call for a nurse, and then someone was holding his head while someone else worked at re-establishing his I.V.

He could hear vague orders being given, presumably for meds. A cool cloth was placed on his head and when his body had calmed somewhat, he could hear somebody talking very loudly in words Johnny could barely understand, but he picked up enough of it guess the man was his doctor and he was angry that his patient had been upset.

Doesn't matter, Doc... doesn't matter... I messed it all up... again...

He wondered absently what they'd given him. He was starting to drift. He thought someone was calling him, but he wasn't sure, and he didn't have the energy to answer, even if they were. He couldn't even open his eyes to be sure. He succumbed to the darkness with one last thought swirling through his tormented mind.

I'm sorry, Roy... m'sorry...

Chapter 22

Joanne stood by the large picture window gazing distractedly at the view of the nearby mountains. It was breezy outside. She could tell by the sway of the trees that lined the parking lot, and it was that breeze that gave her such a beautiful vista. She knew if they were on the other side of the building, what she would see would be the smoggy valley that stretched out for miles; into the Los Angeles basin and on towards the ocean. Normally she would have appreciated the difference, but today she had no eyes for the world outside, even as she stared at it. Her eyes were unseeing; her thoughts only on her lost little boy; and whether or not the man down the hall would be able to tell them where he was.

Loma Linda University Medical Center was an expansive facility, and they spent some frustrating minutes trying to find the exact building they were looking for. After they'd finally located and entered the main hospital, they were directed to ICU on the third floor. The elevator deposited them into a moderately sized waiting room across from a long nurses' station. It was there, sprawled on one of the couches, that they found Chris waiting for them.

When he saw them, his expression was hopeful, expectant, wanting to hear that they'd found John. But it only took an instant for his face to fall; for sorrow to fill those blue eyes that were so much like his father's. Joanne had held out her arms and he'd come to her, allowing her to hold him and comfort him; both mother and son forgetting for a moment that he was eighteen, and now considered a man rather than a boy.

After their reunion with Chris, they'd tried to find out about Johnny, and were introduced to Sergeant Preston. He informed them that Dr. Patel was due to come in shortly, and that no one was being allowed into Johnny's room until the physician checked him out and gave the okay. So they ended up waiting for nearly an hour before a small boned, Indian man came down the hall to discuss Johnny's condition with them in very broken English.

Joanne didn't understand all of the doctor's clipped speech, but she got enough to know the situation was just as Chris had told them last night. Johnny had a severe concussion, several broken bones, a lot of bruising, along with the ravages of spending hours exposed to the desert sun. He was stable, though still being monitored in ICU. He was still experiencing the disorientation, nausea and headaches that came with a head injury such as he had. Those symptoms would most likely continue for some time. It would be later this afternoon, or perhaps even tomorrow morning, before Dr. Patel felt Johnny would be able to make the ambulance ride to Rampart General.

The doctor would allow two people in to talk to him for a few minutes, but warned them not to hold out much hope for any miraculous return of his memory. It wasn't uncommon for a person not to ever remember the hours or sometimes days surrounding an injury this severe. More than likely those events were lost to Johnny for good. Dr. Patel also cautioned them not to persist in their questioning if Johnny became agitated or upset. The stress of trying to recall things he was incapable of would not be conducive to his recovery.

It had not been encouraging, and Joanne hadn't argued when Roy stated that he would go in, along with Sergeant Preston, to see if Johnny could give them anything to go on. She didn't think she would be able to handle standing there watching Johnny try and remember; knowing that somewhere in his mind was the information they needed to find John. She knew she was being irrational, but a part of her was tempted to run down the hall, grab the injured man and shake him; as if he was deliberately keeping the knowledge of her son's whereabouts from them and all it would take was enough force to get him to tell them.

No, she wouldn't be of any help in that room. All her presence there would serve to do is create more of that stress the doctor warned against. In her heart, she didn't blame Johnny for John's disappearance. The last thing she wanted to do was to cause their friend any distress. So she'd stayed in the waiting room, watching her husband and the police officer being led down the hall, feeling more numb than anything else.

It had been about fifteen minutes now. She didn't think the doctor would let them stay with Johnny much longer. She knew ICU had fairly strict visiting rules. She already knew Roy hadn't been able to gain anything from talking to his friend. If he had, he would have already been here to share that with her. He wouldn't have let her wait out here wondering.

"Mom?"

Joanne turned to see Chris standing beside her. He looked exhausted and she could well imagine he didn't get much sleep last night. She knew the feeling.

"Jen and I are gonna go down to the lounge and get something to drink. You want anything?"

Joanne knew the place her son was talking about was the staff lounge for this unit. They'd been shown where it was and told they were welcome to use the vending machines there for coffee or soda or snack foods if they wished. The mother in Joanne felt the urge to give them a "Mom" lecture about junk food this early in the day, but she held her tongue. Both Chris and Jennifer had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. If soda and a bag of chips would help get them through, she wasn't going to get upset about it. Besides, they weren't little kids anymore who she had to worry about spoiling their appetites. They weren't John.

The thought of her baby boy brought renewed tears to her eyes, but she bit her lip and held onto her control as she shook her head.

"No, thanks," she managed to get out. "You guys go ahead."

Chris hesitated and looked like he wanted to say something to her, but he didn't have the years or maturity to know the right words. He settled for giving her a weak smile, then he gestured for his sister. Joanne watched as the two of them headed down the corridor. After a moment, in what seemed a very natural gesture, Chris let his hand rest on Jennifer's shoulder.

Joanne felt a smile of her own grow at the sight of her two oldest in such obvious harmony with each other. Not quite three years apart, their childhood had held many moments of close companionship, but also an equal amount of seemingly endless bickering. That they could turn to each other in this kind of a crisis made her realize that somehow, even in her most exasperated moments, she and Roy had done a good job as parents.

It also made her heart ache a little for what John would never have. He was their youngest, the baby by many years. And even though Joanne never considered John as an afterthought child, the truth was, that's exactly what he was. It didn't mean he was any less loved. He just filled a different role in their family. And it also meant, that because he was so much younger than Chris and Jenny, he would never have the same kind of sibling relationship that they did with each other.

She chuckled inwardly, knowing Roy would say she was being silly; worrying over things that really didn't matter. And he would be right. She didn't suppose it was something that would send her son to therapy later in life, and he certainly wasn't the only person to grow up without brothers or sisters close to his age. It just gave him a different sort of childhood than her first two had enjoyed.

Joanne sighed and leaned her forehead against the glass, feeling the tears that had lingered so close to the surface for the last two days. After waging a quiet struggle, she managed to keep them at bay for now. A moment later she was glad she did.

Soft footsteps turned her from the window and she saw Roy coming down the hallway. Sergeant Preston wasn't with him, but Joanne hardly registered that fact. All she saw was the face of her husband as he walked slowly towards her. Roy was a naturally reserved man who usually kept a tight rein on his emotions, at least in front of other people, but those who knew him well knew that he felt just as deeply, could be just as passionate about things as anyone. He was just uncomfortable with public displays. So the sight of such raw anguish showing plainly on his face made Joanne push her own keen disappointment aside as she met Roy half way.

She felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her tight, his cheek pressed against her hair. He didn't say anything until his breathing grew more steady, and she knew he'd been able to get some control back.

"He doesn't remember," Roy finally murmured into her ear. "He... he doesn't remember John being in the Rover with him. He doesn't even remember us leaving the campground. It's like Chris told us... the last thing he remembers is the night before."

He pulled away, but kept his hands on her arms. His brows were drawn together worriedly. "All I did was upset him. All he knows is that he hurts like hell, and then I come in and lay this on him." Roy shook his head slowly. "I couldn't stay, Jo. I couldn't stay in there and fall apart in front of him. He's already frantic trying to remember. The last thing he needs is to have to lay there and watch me lose it."

Joanne reached out and brushed a hand against Roy's cheek. He captured it and held it there. But their moment of quiet comfort was interrupted suddenly by a commotion in the direction Roy had just come.

The couple turned and saw Sergeant Preston walking their way, his hands moving as he tried to talk to the obviously upset Dr. Patel, who was trotting beside the bigger man, keeping up with his longer strides. As they grew near, Joanne realized what they were arguing about.

"But, Doc..." the officer kept saying, "I only showed him the pictures. I didn't pressure him..."

"It does not matter," the Indian physician stated briskly. "I warned you about upsetting him. He becomes agitated and that makes everything exaggerated. The vomiting puts strain on his broken ribs and can increase pressure on his brain. He needs to rest, to be calm."

"I understand that, Doc, but we've got a missing kid we have to find, and Gage is the..."

"And how can he help you if he is dead? Tell me that? No. He must rest and get well. Then he can try and help you."

Joanne saw the alarm grow on her husband's face as the doctor mentioned that Johnny was vomiting. With his last statement, Roy moved away from her and covered the short distance to where the two men were standing.

"Dr. Patel? What's going on with Johnny? Is he gonna be all right?"

The Indian turned his chocolate colored eyes in their direction. His face was stern. "I would say yes... but only if he is given peace and quiet. Any more incidents like today and I cannot say for sure. No more visitors today. That is vital."

There was a moment of silence, and then Sergeant Preston muttered, "That's just great," and jammed his notepad into his suit pocket. "I gotta go call in," he announced and stalked off toward the phones.

By this time Joanne had once more stepped up to Roy's side. She took his hand and squeezed it. He gave her a grateful look before he addressed the doctor once more.

"What about moving Johnny to Rampart?" he asked. "When will he be able to make the trip?"

The doctor folded his arms in a thoughtful pose. "I had thought perhaps tonight, but now I will wait. If he sleeps well tonight and has no further troubles, then in the morning surely. I will be in touch with Dr. Brackett and let him know for certain."

With that the man reached out to shake their hands, then moved toward the nurses' station. Joanne watched as he stood at the desk writing notes in Johnny's file. Then she looked up at Roy.

"So... we can't see Johnny... at least not for the rest of the day. What do we do now?"

Roy's shoulders moved in a weary sigh. He cast a glance down the hall toward Johnny's room, then he turned back to Joanne.

"We'll get Chris and Jenny and go home."

Joanne opened her mouth to protest. It seemed like little by little they were leaving John behind. When they left Baker, when they left the police station, and now to leave the hospital and Johnny, who was their only link to their son; going home seemed so final.

But Roy shook his head to forestall her arguments.

"We need to get the kids home, Jo. We need to go home. There's nothing more we can do here. We don't even have a clue where to look for John. We can't help Johnny. Hell, we can't even see him." He shook his head again. "No...we need to get home...to get settled. It will be easier to...well, it will just be easier. The police know where to contact us. And Johnny will be at Rampart tomorrow. Maybe when he's a little more stable we can talk to him some more..."

Joanne listened to him go on, knowing he was trying to convince himself as well as her. She knew this was just as hard on him, and she decided the best thing to do was to not make it any harder. She gave him an understanding smile.

"Okay, Roy. We'll go home."

Chapter 23

“You’re not to step foot outside this house while I’m gone, ya’ understand?”

 

“I understand,” Katori nodded.  Rudy had spoken to him the night before about having to leave him alone on Thursday morning.  “But why can’t I go with you?”

 

“I already told you.  Because I said so.”

 

“Does that mean it’s a grownup thing?”

 

Rudy picked up the boy’s empty cereal bowl and juice glass, carrying them to the sink. 

 

“Is what a grownup thing?”

 

“Why you can’t tell me.  Whenever my mo…whenever people don’t wanna tell a kid something, they say, ‘Because I said so, that’s why.’”

 

“Oh.  Well, yeah.  I guess you could say it’s a grownup thing. I’ve got business to take care of in town.”

 

“I could help you.”

 

“No you can’t.”

 

“But I polished rocks for you.”

 

“And you did a good job too, but this is business I have to take care of by myself.”

 

“How come?”

 

Rudy smiled at his visitor.  “Just because I said so, that’s why.”

 

Katori sighed, then turned mournful eyes on the man that were hard to ignore. Rudy suspected the boy was afraid to be left alone. Normally he wouldn’t be so foolish as to leave a five-year-old by himself, but he had no choice.  He couldn’t very well parade the kid around Nipton, and he couldn’t let Farley see Katori either.  Rudy knew he had to find out where the kid belonged and get him back to wherever that was, but at the same time, he didn’t want to deal with the cops.  He realized now he’d probably made a mistake by not taking Katori to the police when the kid first showed up on Tuesday afternoon.  Given he had no phone and his car didn’t work, Rudy didn’t know exactly how he’d have accomplish that, but he supposed he could have walked with Katori to Phil Ramsey’s house and asked Phil to use his phone. But Rudy hadn’t done that because of the dead man by the side of the road.  And now too much time had passed. The police would wonder why he’d kept the boy, and what he’d done to him during the two days Katori had been with him.

 

Didn’t do nothin’ but feed him and take good care of him, but they’ll never believe me.  It’ll be just like that time in the mine.  They won’t believe me, and they’ll ask a lot of questions, and then they’ll accuse me of doin’ stuff to him I’ve never even thought of, let alone would carry out.

 

Rudy didn’t have a plan in mind yet as to how to get Katori to someone who could, in turn, get him back to his parents, or to the mysterious Uncle Johnny he still spoke of, or to whomever it was the child belonged to.  For now, he had to take care of immediate needs – like getting the boy a few changes of clothing, and picking up an extra gallon of milk and another jar of peanut butter.

 

The boy remained in the kitchen while Rudy walked to the back of his house.  He could hear Katori winding up the old Disney toys, then letting them walk across the table.

 

Rudy stepped onto his back porch.  It hadn’t been enclosed when he bought the place.  Twenty years ago, he’d done the necessary work himself to make it part of the inside of the house.  It gave him just the space he needed for his washing machine and housecleaning utensils.  He crossed the floor to the metal cabinet that contained six shelves. He opened the doors, pushing aside a box of laundry detergent and a bottle of bleach.  He lifted the shelf paper and reached beneath it.

 

Rudy pulled out a white envelope.  He opened the flap and slipped out a wad of twenty, fifty, and one hundred dollar bills.  He didn’t trust banks any more than he trusted cops.  He’d been a child of the Depression.  He’d seen what happened to hard working folks when the banks closed.  He had a checking account at the First National Bank of Nipton, but he kept just enough money in it from month to month to pay his utility bills. He used cash for almost anything else he purchased.  He couldn’t see having to pay five cents for every check he wrote like the bank had started charging last year.  Seemed stupid to be charged to draw your own money out of your own account, which only further emphasized to Rudy that you couldn’t trust banks.

 

Rudy counted out one thousand dollars.  He folded the bills and shoved them in the front pocket of his jeans, then closed the flap on the envelope and put the remaining cash back where it belonged.  He wasn’t exactly sure how much money he had hidden around his place, but he supposed he’d amassed about forty thousand dollars from years of frugal living and the belief that it was important to have cash available for a rainy day.  He had a lot of hiding places.  After all, he wasn’t foolish enough to put all of his eggs in one basket.  It drove Farley nuts because while he knew Rudy hid money around the house and out in his shed, Rudy had never told him exactly where the money was located.

 

More than once, Farely had grumbled, “Ya’ keep tellin’ me I’m supposed ta’ clean yer house out when ya’ die and take all the money.  How’m I supposed ta’ take the money if I don’t know where it is?”

 

To which Rudy always answered, “Look for it, ya’ lazy ole’ coot.  If ya’ want it, you gotta put some sweat into finding it.”

 

“Maybe if you’d just deposit it in a bank like normal people do, I wouldn’t have ta’ put some sweat into findin’ it.”

 

“And just what fun would that be for me when I’m sittin’ up there on a fluffy white cloud lookin’ down and watching you hunt for it?”

 

“Fluffy cloud my ass.  You’ll be lookin’ up, ya’ ole’ buzzard, not down.”

 

Rudy always laughed after Farley said that, and then reminded him once again that the money was to be his.

 

“Don’t send it to Ellie.  I love her, but she doesn’t need it.  She and her husband have done fine for themselves.  Those no-good kids a’ hers will just get their hands on it.  You keep it.”

 

“What am I gonna do with it?”

 

“Don’t know and don’t care.  I’m just tellin’ you, it’s yours.”

 

And it was.  Rudy’d had a will drawn up a few years ago that left his assets to Farley after he died.   Rudy wasn’t a rich man, but the cash he had on hand, combined with the sale of his house and all of the things in the house and the shed, plus his vehicle, would give Farley all he needed and then some until he passed on as well.  If Farley died before Rudy, then Rudy’s assets were to be divided between Kip, Dale and Gwen Taylor, and Big Bob.  They didn’t know that, and never would unless the day came that the lawyer phoned them with the news.  They were about the only other family Rudy had besides Farley, and though they were people he did business with, they’d grown to be friends too.

 

Might as well leave your money to people you like, instead of to people you hardly know, even if those people you hardly know are your relatives.

 

Katori looked up when Rudy returned to the kitchen.

 

“My friend’s gonna be here in a minute to pick me up.  Remember what I told you.  Stay right here in the kitchen until his truck is gone.”

 

“Why?  Is he mean?”

 

“No, he’s not mean.”

 

“Then how come I can’t go with you?”

 

Rudy heaved a big sigh.  Kids sure could be persistent.  He was about to respond with, “Just because I said so,” once again, when he thought of something else that might work better. Something that might convince Katori remaining here alone in the house was a good idea.

 

“You need to stay here in case Uncle Johnny comes to get you.”

 

Rudy felt bad for offering the child false hope when Katori’s eyes lit up.

 

“You really think he might?”

 

“Uh…yeah…yeah, I do.”

 

“Okay.  Then I’ll stay here and keep a look out for him.”

 

“Good idea.  But don’t be lookin’ until me and Farley are gone.  I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

 

“All--all right.”

 

“You’re not scared, are you?”

 

“I…uh…no.  I…it’s just that I’ve never been home alone before.”

 

“You’ll be fine. No one ever comes out here, and you’ve got all of these toys to play with.  Just stay in the house.  If you get thirsty, pour yourself a glass of juice, or have some lemonade.  I put some cheese and crackers on a plate in the refrigerator if you get hungry and want a snack. You’ll see it. It’s on the bottom shelf, covered with waxed paper.”

 

“O--okay.”

 

Rudy heard a truck pull in his driveway.

 

“Farley’s here. I gotta go.  You be quiet and stay right here at the table until we’re gone.”

 

The boy gave a reluctant nod.  Rudy reached out and tousled his hair.

 

“You’ll be okay, Katori.  I’ll be back in a little while.”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

Rudy tweaked the boy’s nose, not realizing he was mimicking a gesture John Gage often used when John DeSoto turned sad eyes on him.

 

The old man hurried to the front porch.  As Farley got out of his truck, Rudy greeted him with a big wave and an exuberant, “Good morning! Good morning!”  He scooped up two boxes he had stacked on the porch and hurried to the bed of Farley’s truck.

 

“I’ll put these back here, get the others, and then we can go.”  Rudy held up a hand as Farley started to follow him to the house.  “No no.  Don’t need any help.  You just stay there and rest.”

 

“Rest?  I just got outta bed.”

 

“Well…rest anyway.  You shouldn’t work so hard.”

 

Farley watched with wonder as Rudy scurried back to the porch where he had two more sets of boxes stacked.  He’d never seen Rudy scurry that he could recall. 

 

“Work so hard?  You’re always tellin’ me I don’t do nothin’ but watch TV and put puzzles together.”

 

“Then I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“Was that an apology?”

 

Rudy hoisted two more boxes that held his wares into the bed of the truck.  “If it needs to be one, sure.”

 

Farley crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his friend.  “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

 

“Whatta ya’ mean, what’s goin’ on?”

 

“Why the hell are you so chipper this morning?  You’re never chipper.  Matter of fact, you’re usually downright grumpy.”

 

“Maybe I’m turnin’ over a new leaf.”

 

“Yeah, or maybe you’ve been smokin’ some of that wacky tobaccy all the young kids use these days.”

 

Farley’s brows knit together when he saw Rudy waving a frantic hand at the screen door while bending over to pick up the remainder of the boxes.  Farley took a step forward.

 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?  Ya’ havin’ some kinda spasm or somethin’?”

 

Rudy stood and whirled around, his body blocking Farley’s view of the door.  “No. Just shooin’ away flies.  Get in the truck and turn on the air conditioning so it’s nice and cool for us.  I’ll put the rest of these boxes in the back while you do that.”

 

Farley cocked one ear toward his friend.  “Did I hear ya’ right?  Did you jus’ tell me ta’ turn on the air conditioning?”

 

“I sure as hell didn’t tell ya’ to turn on the heater.”

 

“You sure yer feelin’ all right?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Then why’re ya’ walkin’ backwards and talkin’ to the door?”

 

“I’m not talkin’ to the door.”

 

“Are too. I hear you mumblin’ over there somethin’ about ‘git back,’ ‘git back.’”

 

“What I said was, ‘Git outta here.’  I was talkin’ to the flies.”

 

“Talkin’ to flies now, are ya’?  Wouldn’t be the first sign you’re goin’ loopy in the head, now would it?”

 

Rudy shot his friend a dirty look before subtly eyeing the front door again. 

 

“The only sign that I’m goin’ loopy in the head comes from having you as a friend.”

 

“That’s more like it.”

 

Rudy placed the last of his boxes in the truck’s bed.  “What’s more like it?” 

 

“You. You sound more like yerself now.  Grumpy.”

 

Rudy opened the driver’s side door and practically shoved Farley into the Ford.

 

“I am grumpy.  Grumpy and hungry.  Now git in the truck and let’s get a move on.”

 

Rudy hurried around to the passenger side.  He climbed in the vehicle, never taking his eyes off of the outside rearview mirror until his house was out of sight.  He’d seen no further signs of Katori since shooing the boy away from the door. Rudy prayed the child would do as he’d ordered and remain safely inside the house until he returned.

 

Chapter 24

Johnny kept his eyes closed as they got him settled on the gurney.  Despite the pain meds he’d been given, the jostling hurt.  One of the nurses must have noticed his involuntary grimace, because she said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Gage. We’ll be finished in just a minute.”

 

Johnny might have nodded an acknowledgement, or mumbled a, “Tha’z all right,” had his head not hurt so damn much.  And had he cared.  But he didn’t care.  Or at least not about the discomfort that came from being prepared for transport.  What he cared about was John.  About being able to give the police and Roy information that would help them find the little boy.  But he couldn’t give them information, because he couldn’t remember any of the events surrounding John’s disappearance. 

 

Each time Johnny’d been awake since Roy left for Carson with his family the previous morning, he’d tried so hard to remember anything…just one little tiny thing that might be of help, but he couldn’t.  All he could remember was eating dinner with the DeSotos on Monday evening – or at least Dr. Patel had told the paramedic chief his last memory was of events that took place on Monday evening, because Johnny wasn’t even sure of that – and then telling John the legend of Katori as they sat around the campfire roasting marshmallows. 

 

Most of Wednesday had passed in a drug-induced haze for Johnny.  It wasn’t until midway through the evening that he’d been cognizant enough to focus on his surroundings. It was then that he noticed he was alone, and that although medical personnel made frequent trips in and out of his room, Roy was noticeably absent.  He finally questioned a nurse about Roy in a weak raspy voice that caused her to hold a cup of water to his mouth, place a straw between his lips, and encourage him to take a few sips of the cool liquid.

 

When she’d placed the cup back on his nightstand, he tried getting the words out again.  There wasn’t much volume to his voice, and it took effort to collect his thoughts, but she understood him.

 

“My…my friend.  Roy…Roy DeSoto.  He ‘round somewhere?”

 

The nurse’s eyes remained on the second hand of her watch as she took Johnny’s pulse.

 

“Mr. DeSoto left for home with his family shortly after he visited you this morning.  He asked us to tell you he’d see you after you arrive at Rampart.”

 

“Rampart?”

 

The woman gently laid Johnny’s right arm on the bed, then recorded his pulse rate on his chart.  “Don’t you remember Dr. Patel talking to you about it the last time he was in here?”

 

“ ‘Bout what?”

 

“Provided you remain stable, you’re being transferred to Rampart General tomorrow morning.”  She smiled at him and teased lightly, “Your check-out time’s scheduled for ten a.m.”

 

“Who…who says?”

 

“A man by the name of Dr. Kelly Brackett.  I take it you know the infamous Dr. Brackett?”

 

“Uh…yeah…yeah, I know ‘im,” Johnny acknowledged, though he was confused as to how Brackett had found out he was here.  Normally he’d have assumed Roy contacted the man, but considering Roy had left without saying goodbye – not that Johnny could blame him – Johnny didn’t think Roy was currently in the mood to go the extra mile for him.

 

Not Roy’s fault.  I’m the jackass who let someone take his boy.  Can’t blame him for wantin’ to get outta here when I couldn’t give ‘em any clues about where John is.

 

The nurse had straightened Johnny’s blankets then and asked if he was comfortable; he’d lied and said he was.  She never thought to tell Johnny that Dr. Patel declared he was to have no further visitors that day.  If Johnny had known that, then he might have realized that Roy leaving for home had more to do with the “no visitors” rule, than it did with any anger he harbored toward his friend. But Johnny didn’t know his doctor refused to allow visitors after that police detective upset him, so he lay silently fretting Wednesday evening while trying to force even the slightest memory of the carjacking to come forth.

 

Johnny’s fretting almost earned him another twenty-four hour stay at Loma Linda.  Based on the nurses’ reports, Dr. Patel knew the paramedic hadn’t rested well overnight, and on Thursday morning his blood pressure was slightly elevated. Johnny didn’t argue with the man when he mentioned canceling the scheduled transfer.  That would have been a sure sign to Kelly Brackett something wasn’t right with John Gage, but Dr. Patel didn’t know his patient like Brackett did, and therefore didn’t pick up on the first signs of depression.

 

The only thing that prevented Dr. Patel from keeping Johnny another day was the news he received when consulting with Kelly Brackett by phone that morning.  Patel felt better about transferring his patient upon discovering someone far more skilled, medically speaking, than an ambulance attendant, would be taking care of John Gage on the hour long ride to Los Angeles.

 

With an IV still in his right arm, and with his injured knee propped on a pillow, and with a paper bag containing his personal effects resting against his left calf, and covered with a light blanket and strapped to the gurney, Johnny was pushed to a waiting elevator.  The paramedic’s eyes remained closed, but he sensed a nurse holding the elevator door open, and then getting in the car with him and an orderly.  

 

Johnny didn’t bother to open his eyes during the entire trip to the main floor.  It’s not as though that act would help him to discover where John was.  Besides, if he acted alert, then the nurse would try and carry on a conversation with him, which would take Johnny’s concentration from his attempts to remember the carjacking.

 

Johnny ignored the headache that had been growing more severe as the morning went on.  He knew the source of the pain.  He was doing exactly what Dr. Patel had cautioned him not to – try and force a memory that just wasn’t there. 

 

“You will have more success with your memory if you first relax and rest, Mr. Gage,” the doctor had said during his final visit with Johnny an hour earlier.  “It is much too soon after the assault for you to expect results.  Your body is telling you not to tax it.  It is sending you a warning you need to heed.”

 

Johnny’s throbbing head was telling him to listen to Dr. Patel, but his aching heart was telling him something else.  It was telling Johnny that he’d been responsible for John.  That Roy and Joanne had entrusted John to him, and that somehow, Johnny had let them down.  He’d let those boys who’d carjacked him take John.  He didn’t remember allowing that to happen, but obviously he must have since everyone said John was with him when the Land Rover was stolen, and now John was no where to be found.

 

Oh God, what if they’d killed him?  What if they killed him and dumped his body somewhere in the dessert?  The heat…with how hot it is out there, they’ll never find any trace of him.  A body won’t last long in temperatures like that, and then animals…animals will carry the bones away.

 

Just the thought of John’s little body being desecrated like that made Johnny shudder. 

 

“Mr. Gage?  Mr. Gage, are you all right?”

 

Johnny wanted to ignore the woman, but he knew it would cause him less trouble if acknowledged her, so he gave a slight nod.

 

“We’re almost there.”

 

Where “almost there” was Johnny didn’t know, but he didn’t ask, either.  He assumed she meant to some set of double doors on the main floor that he’d be wheeled through before being placed in a waiting ambulance.

 

Johnny had guessed correctly.  He heard the doors slide open when the gurney got close enough to their electric eye, and then he felt the transition from the cool air inside of the building, to the sweltering August heat.

 

The paramedic heard his nurse giving someone an update on his condition, including his most recent set of vitals.  He assumed she was speaking to an off-duty paramedic hired by the ambulance company to ride with him at the direction of Dr. Brackett.  It wasn’t an unheard of practice when a seriously ill or injured patient was being transported to another hospital.

 

“And this envelope contains a copy of his chart.  His personal effects are in the bag there on the gurney.”

 

It wasn’t until Johnny heard the person’s response to his nurse of,  “Thank you.  I appreciate the good care you’ve given one of my favorite paramedics,” that he opened his eyes.

 

He squinted into the bright sunlight that made his eyes water and the throbbing in his head intensify.  

 

“D--Dix?”

 

The sun glared off the ambulance windows, obscuring the woman’s features until she moved to the left side of the gurney.  She laid a hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

 

“Hey there, tiger.  I hear you’ve had a rough couple of days.”

 

Johnny gave a half-hearted shrug with his right shoulder.  He didn’t want to talk about his “rough couple of days” as Dixie had phrased it.

 

“What…what’re you doin’ here?”

 

“I don’t suppose you’ll believe me if I say I just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by.”

 

Despite his pain, Johnny couldn’t help but smile a little at the gentle teasing.

 

“Nah.  Don’t believe it.”

 

“All right then, how’s this?  Kel wanted to make sure you were well taken care of on the ride home, so I volunteered to be your private duty nurse.”

 

“Can’…” Johnny squeezed his eyes shut against a renewed stab of pain while still trying to complete his sentence.  “Can’t ask for much better treatment ‘an that.”

 

Johnny heard Dixie’s, “No, you can’t,” but didn’t see her nod at the orderly and ambulance driver, indicating to the men they should load the patient into the vehicle.

 

The gurney’s legs were released, then Johnny felt himself being lifted.  The men tried to be careful, but there was still enough jostling to make the paramedic chief inhale a sharp gasp of pain.

 

He drifted a little then from the combination of pain and painkillers, as the men got him secured in the back of the ambulance.  He was vaguely aware of Dixie standing outside the vehicle talking to the ICU nurse, then that nurse’s voice forcing him to focus when she stuck her head in the back and said, “Goodbye, Mr. Gage.  Take care of yourself.”

 

Although Johnny hurt too much to be in the mood to exchange pleasantries with a woman he’d never see again, he managed a subdued, “Bye.  Than…thanks for everything.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Johnny felt Dixie climb in beside him.  She sat on the bench seat as someone closed the rear doors.  The door to the cab opened and shut, then Johnny heard the small glass door slide open that was between the cab and rear compartment.

 

“Ready to go, Miss McCall?”

 

“We’re ready,” Dixie confirmed to the driver.

 

The glass door was slid shut once more, then the driver started the engine.

 

Johnny felt a B/P cuff being wrapped around his right arm but he didn’t acknowledge it, anymore than he acknowledged feeling Dixie’s fingers at the pulse point of his wrist a few seconds later.

 

“Johnny?” the nurse called softly.  “Johnny, open your eyes for me.”

 

Johnny heard the worry in Dixie’s voice, as though his demeanor had her concerned.  He didn’t follow her instructions until she said in a firmer tone, “Johnny, come on.  Open your eyes for me.”

 

The paramedic finally did as the woman ordered.  There were a lot of things he wanted to say to her.  He wanted to thank her for being such a good friend.  He wanted to ask her if she’d spoken to Roy.  He wanted to tell her that his head hurt like hell, and now that the ambulance was moving, his stomach didn’t feel so great either. 

 

When Johnny did speak, it wasn’t any of those things that he voiced, though.  Instead, he said in a hoarse broken tone, “I let something happen to ‘im, Dix.  Something bad’s happened to John, and it’s my fault.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Johnny.  No matter what happened, none of us doubt that you did all you could to protect him.”

 

Johnny didn’t say what he was thinking.

 

None of you but Roy and Joanne.  John’s parents.  My closest friends.  The people who trusted me with their child.

 

 

Johnny closed his eyes again, blocking out all other images but John DeSoto’s face as he concentrated on trying to remember anything, anything at all, that might tell him what had happened to his best friend’s son.

 

­­­­­­ Chapter 25

“Here you go, Rudy.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Rudy took the cash Big Bob gave him for the hand-made jewelry and woven throw rugs Rudy had put on shelves in the storage room.  When he had time, Bob would arrange the jewelry in a glass display case, and stack the brightly colored rugs on a set of shelves that lined one wall of the Trading Post.  

 

Big Bob leaned his fleshy arms on top of one of the display cases.  He thrust his cannon-sized rear end outward to make room for his monstrous stomach to rest against the edge of the case. 

 

“You fellas hear about all the excitement the other day?”

 

Farley nodded.  “Saw it on the news. That was somethin’, wasn’t it?”

 

Rudy kept quiet.  He had a feeling he knew what excitement Bob and Farley were talking about.

 

“I hope that guy pulls through.  Someone should beat those punks with a tire iron just like they beat him.”

 

“That’s what I say too.”  Farley turned to his friend. “I bet you don’t know nothin’ about it, do ya’?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“The poor fella who got himself beat half to death just a few miles outside a’ town here.  If yer car hadn’t broken down, you’d have probably driven right by him.”

 

“That so?”

 

“Yeah.” Farley looked at Bob again.  “He’s a fireman?”

 

“Paramedic I think they said. From down in L.A.”

 

A part of Rudy wanted to keep quiet, but a part of him wanted to know more about the mysterious man he’d taken for dead.

 

“What happened?”

 

“A couple a’ kids carjacked him,” Bob said.

 

“Carjacked?”

 

“Rudy, you have to get a TV.”

 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Then you’d know what a carjacking is.”

 

Rudy waited, but when no further explanation was given he was forced to ask Big Bob, “Well, what is it?”

 

“It’s when someone wants your car and beats the crap outta you to get it.  They said on the news that the kids had stolen a car in Huntington Beach.  Seems they wanted to dump it before the cops were on their tail. When they came across this paramedic changing a tire they saw their chance.”

 

“So they beat him with his tire iron?”

 

“They sure did.  He’s damn lucky to be alive.”

 

“Sure is,” Farley agreed. “I heard on this morning’s news that he’s probably gonna be okay.”

 

“That’s good,” Bob said.  “But what’s better is they caught the punks who did that to him.  I get so tired of always hearing that the crooks get away.  It’s about time a couple of ‘em are locked up.”

 

“Too bad about the boy, though.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a shame.  I wonder if they’ll find him.”

 

“Not alive.”

 

Again, Rudy didn’t want to act interested, but he couldn’t keep his heart from racing at the mention of a boy.

 

“Boy?”

 

“The missing boy,” Farley supplied.  “The guy had a five year old kid with him. Cops can’t find him, and the punks ain’t talkin’.”

 

Bob shifted his bulk to take weight off of a bad knee. “I heard they keep denying they ever saw the boy.”

 

“They saw him,” Farley stated with authority, as though he’d witnessed the carjacking and knew exactly what happened.  “They took that poor little feller, and then they killed him and threw his body out somewheres.  By now, the coyotes have eaten whatever was left of ‘im.”

 

“Was the boy his son?” Rudy asked.

 

“Whose son?”

 

“The paramedic’s.  The guy who was beaten.”

 

“Nah, don’t think so.”  Farley looked to Bob once more. “Wasn’t he campin’ with some friends or something?”

 

“Yeah.  I talked to one of the deputies.  He stopped in here for a soda and a bag a’ chips.  Said the paramedic had been on a two-week camping trip with a good friend and his family.  They were all headed back to L.A.  The little kid wanted to ride home with the paramedic instead of ridin’ with his folks.”

 

“Big mistake,” Farley said.

 

“No kidding.  Sure makes you realize how one little choice can change your whole life.  Gotta feel sorry for those parents.  They must be worried sick about the boy.”

 

“Must be.”

 

Several seconds passed before Rudy realized the other two men were looking at him.  Evidently his silence on such a tragic topic seemed out of character.

 

“Yeah,” he hastily agreed.  “They must be.”

 

A family passing through the area looking for souvenirs entered the store then.  Rudy was grateful for a reason to shag Farley by the arm and say in a low voice, “Let’s go,” as Big Bob rounded the counter touting all the fine items he had for sale that were handcrafted by a genuine American Indian named Cloud Jumper.

 

The two men got into Farley’s truck and headed down the street to the Nipton Hotel.  After Gwen Taylor recorded Rudy’s stock in an inventory log and her husband Dale paid him, talk swiftly turned to the carjacked paramedic.

 

“Biggest thing to happen here in Nipton since I was a kid and Marv Ollison blew half his hand off with firecrackers one Fourth of July,” Dale said.

 

Farley chuckled.  “Yep.  We didn’t call him Two Fingers Ollie down at the mine for nothin’, did we, Rudy?”

 

“Nope, we didn’t.”

 

“We’ve sure done a lot of business the last two days,” Gwen said.  “Our rooms have been filled with police officers staying in the area to search for the little boy.  It’s been great for the bottom line, but it’s a sad way to make a few extra dollars.”

 

Softly, Dale said, “They don’t think they’ll find him. I overheard a couple of the cops talking at breakfast.  They think he’s already dead.  They think those kids killed him.”

 

“But I read an article in this morning’s paper that said the boy might have snuck out of the vehicle when the kids stopped for gas in Barstow,” Gwen said, “or at that McDonald’s in San Bernardino where they were caught.”

 

“I suppose that could have happened,” Dale agreed. “All I know is what I overheard the cops say.”

 

Hearing that cops were making the old hotel their base made Rudy anxious to leave.

 

“We gotta get a move on. See ya’ later.”

 

The Taylors didn’t seem to notice Rudy’s anxiousness.  But then, they were busy getting their day underway.

 

Dale turned to answer the ringing phone. “See ya’, Rudy.  Farley.”

 

Gwen smiled at the men as she headed to the back office.  “So long, guys.”

 

Farley limped toward the dining room, where the Taylors employed a cook and several waitresses.

 

“Come on,” Farley urged as he limped toward a table that sat two.  “Let’s order up some breakfast now that yer done.”

 

Rudy handed his friend a ten dollar bill.  “Here ya’ go.”

 

“What this for?”

 

“Breakfast.”

 

“Aren’t you eatin’?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Whatta ya’ mean, not right now?  You said you’d take me out for breakfast if I brought you to town today.”

 

“And I am takin’ you out for breakfast.  I just gave you ten bucks.  That should be enough for breakfast and lunch.”

 

“But normally when we got out together for breakfast, that means we eat together.”

 

“Not today.  I got some more business ta’ take care of.”

 

“It can wait until after we eat.”

 

“No it can’t. I need to get it done now.”

 

“Get what done now?”

 

“I gotta see a man about a car.”

 

“Rudy, gol’ darn you.  Now just sit here and eat break--”

 

“I gotta go, Farley.  I’ve got some errands to run.  I’ll stop over and see you in a few days.”

 

“But how you gonna do that?  Kip won’t have the Bel Air ready by then.”

 

“I already told you, I gotta see a man about a car.  Enjoy your breakfast.”

 

Before Farley could say anything else, Rudy walked out the door.   As the old man sat down at a table, he mumbled, “I think he really has been into some wacky tobbaccy.”

 

­­­­­­~ ~ ~

“This one’s fine.”

 

“Don’t you even wanna drive it?”

 

“Any reason I can’t trust you?”

 

“Aw, Rudy.  You know damn good and well there’s not.”

 

“Okay then.  How much?”

 

“Seven hundred.”

 

Rudy walked around the olive green 1970 Buick Estate Station Wagon again.  It had a dent in the front passenger side door, and one hundred and twenty thousand miles on the odometer, but Kip said it ran good and had new tires.

 

“Six.”

 

“Six-fifty,” Kip dickered.

 

“Six.”

 

“Six twenty-five.”

 

“Six.”

 

“Six fifteen.”

 

“Six.”

 

“Rudy, give a guy a break. At least make me feel like I’m gettin’ something from this deal.”

 

“You are. I told you I’d give you the Bel Air.”

 

“Some deal that is. I gotta tow it, figure out what’s wrong with it, and replace the window you said had been smashed.”

 

“So? Then you’ll sell it for a couple hundred bucks and make yourself a nice little profit.”

 

“There won’t be any profit on that old thing unless I find a classic car buff who wants it.  Otherwise, I’ll have to take it to the junk yard and be lucky to get all of twenty bucks outta it.”

 

“Do with it what you want.  Makes no difference to me. Now I’ll give you six hundred for this one.  That’s my final offer.”

 

“So far it’s been your only offer.”

 

“Yeah, and it’s my final one, too.”

 

Kip looked up and squinted into the mid-morning sun for a moment, then sighed. “Okay, okay.  Six hundred it is.  I’ll transfer the title and plates over to you when I go to Barstow next week.  I’ll stop in at the DMV then.”

 

“That’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ll send Jeremy out later to tow the Bel Air.”

 

“Later when?”

 

“Today.  Around noon.  That okay?”

 

Rudy thought a moment, then nodded.   “That’s fine.”

 

Rudy followed Kip into his small cluttered office.  The smell of grease and gasoline mixed together as one.  A bell dinged twice, indicating a customer had pulled to the pumps out front.  Kip glanced up briefly from the bill of sale he was writing to make sure Jeremy, his seventeen-year-old son, was waiting on the customer.  Kip still believed in pumping a customer’s gas, just like his father had before him, and his grandfather before him.  None of these new self-service stations for him like populated all the decent sized towns and cities across America now.

 

When Kip was finished, he tore the white slip of paper from its pad and handed it to Rudy.  In turn, Rudy took his cash from his pocket and peeled off six one hundred dollar bills.

 

“There ya’ go.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The two men shook on the deal, then Kip turned to a row of small hooks behind his desk that held an assortment of keys.  His right index finger traveled in mid-air from row to row until he found what he was looking for.  He handed Rudy a ring with two keys on it.

 

“One key opens everything – all four doors and the cargo hold.  That other key’s a spare.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As the two men walked back out into the heat, Kip said, “Hey, you never did tell me how your window got smashed.”

 

“Don’t know,” Rudy shrugged.  “The car broke down, so I walked to Farley’s. When we got back to it, the window was busted.”

 

“I bet it was those kids.”

 

Rudy wanted no part of this conversation, but he knew it would seem odd if he didn’t say something.

 

“What kids?”

 

“The ones they arrested for beating that paramedic and stealing his Land Rover.  You hear about that?”

 

“Uh…Big Bob and the Taylors said something about it a little while ago.”

 

“You should probably tell the police, Rudy.”

 

“Tell ‘em what?”

 

“About the smashed window.”

 

“I don’t know for sure who smashed it, and besides, what difference does it make now?  I’m not keepin’ the car, and if it was those kids, they’re already sittin’ in jail.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose. But still, there’s the missing boy.”

 

“I can guarantee you he’d not hiding in the Bel Air.”

 

Kip laughed.  “I didn’t think he was.  Even a five year old would have better taste than that.”

 

Rudy opened the Buick’s door and slipped behind the wheel.  “Thanks again, Kip.  Appreciate it.”

 

“I’ll bring the title and new plates out to your place after I get ‘em.”

 

“No need. I’ll come into town and pick ‘em up.  Think you’ll have ‘em by next Friday?”

 

“I should.”

 

“Then I’ll stop by here on Friday. I’ll have some more stuff to bring to Big Bob and the Taylors that day.”

 

“Okay. See you then.”

 

“Yeah, see you then.” Rudy started the Buick’s engine. “Oh, and tell Jeremy I won’t be home when he comes by to get the Bel Air.  I’ve got some errands to run in Essex. I’ll leave the keys under the driver’s seat.  The title’s in the glove box.  I’ll stop at home and sign it.”

 

“That’ll be great.”

 

Rudy gave Kip a wave, then put the gearshift in drive and headed for the road.  It would take him a while to get used to driving an automatic transmission.  The Bel Air had been standard. 

 

Rudy stopped at Jim Stafford’s insurance office on his way out of Nipton.  It took just fifteen minutes to get the minimal coverage required by law on the Buick, while at the same time dropping the coverage on his old Bel Air. 

 

“Never thought I’d see the day when you got rid of the Bel Air, Rudy,” Jim teased as he filled out the paperwork.

 

“Never thought I would get rid of her, but she’s startin’ to nickel and dime me, so I guess it was past time.”

 

“I’d say so.”

 

Rudy made the initial insurance payment in cash, then headed out to his new car.  If it hadn’t been for Katori, he wouldn’t have gotten rid of the Bel Air, but with the boy at his place, he needed reliable transportation of his own.  Somehow he had to get the boy back to where he belonged.  He still wasn’t sure how he was going to do that, but he didn’t want to get Farley, or anyone else involved. 

 

The Buick had air conditioning, but since Rudy was used to the Bel Air, he didn’t bother turning it on.  He was mindful of the speed limit as he headed for home, not wanting to encounter any of the cops that were in the area searching for the boy.

 

Rudy reached down and turned on the radio.  He flipped stations until he found the one that played Merle Haggard, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and other country artists he liked. 

 

A Cash song was just ending, then the news came on.

 

“Good morning. The search continues for the missing boy from Carson.”

 

Rudy turned up the volume and leaned forward, just like he used to do when he was a kid and listening to a favorite radio program in his parents’ living room.

 

“Five-year-old John DeSoto was last seen with family friend, John Gage.  Mr. Gage, who is the chief paramedic instructor for the Los Angeles County Fire Department, was carjacked and left for dead on Nipton Road Tuesday afternoon while changing a flat tire.  Two Huntington Beach teenagers, Shawn Reynolds and Daniel Wyatt, are now in custody in San Bernardino for assault and battery, and for grand theft auto.  As of early this morning, Mr. Gage was listed in serious but stable condition at Loma Linda University Medical Center, where he was flown by Flight for Life after being discovered.  So far, Reynolds and Wyatt deny knowing the whereabouts of young John DeSoto, and due to his medial condition, Mr. Gage is unable to give police a statement.  Therefore, the police are asking for your help in finding the little boy.  Late yesterday afternoon, John’s parents, Roy and Joanne DeSoto, made a public plea for their child’s safe return. Mr. DeSoto, who is a Los Angeles County Fire Department captain, said in part, ‘My wife and I just want our son returned to us safely.  Please. If you’ve seen him or know where he is, help us get him back.’ ”

 

Rudy continued to listen as the woman reading the news gave a description of the missing boy, including the clothing he’d been wearing. 

 

“If you have any information regarding John DeSoto, please contact the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department, or the law enforcement agency closest to you. A ten thousand dollar reward is being offered by the Los Angeles County Fire Department to the person or persons who can lead authorities to five-year-old John.

 

“In other news this morning, the start of the new school year is just three weeks away, but transportation for students has still not been resolved.  The Andersen Bus Company closed at the end of last school year.  Although school officials have been scrambling all summer to find--”

 

Rudy shut off the radio and drummed his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as he drove.  Now Katori was more than just a kid with a funny name who’d shown up out of the blue claiming he had to wait for Uncle Johnny to come and get him.  Katori was John DeSoto, and the uncle he spoke of was John Gage, the man Rudy had thought was dead. 

 

This just keeps getting worse and worse.  That’s what I get for bein’ a Good Samaritan and taking care of a kid I don’t know from Adam.  If I call the cops now, they’ll think I had something to do with all this.  They’ll think I helped those boys carjack Mr. Gage, and then kidnap Katori.

 

Rudy’s thoughts shifted to what he had to do when he got home.  The first thing on his agenda was to take his few personal effects out of the Bel Air, sign the title, and leave the keys beneath the seat like he’d promised Kip he would.  The next thing was to head to Essex and buy a few changes of clothes for a five year old, along with some groceries.  After that…well after that, Rudy had to sit and figure out how to get a boy named John DeSoto back to his parents in Carson.

 

­­­­­­ Chapter 26

The trip to Rampart turned out to be a rough one for Johnny.  The doors of a moving van traveling at sixty-five miles an hour had flown open, littering all of 91’s westbound lanes with cardboard boxes, packing material, stuffed animals, toys, clothing, and broken dishes.  Traffic was backed up for miles, and when there was forward progress made, it was nothing but “stop and go” for two hours and forty-seven minutes according to Dixie’s watch. 

 

Once the nurse had realized this wasn’t going to be a minor delay, she asked the driver to call his dispatch center and request someone call Rampart and inform Dr. Brackett of the situation.  She knew Kel would be wondering where they were when she didn’t arrive with Johnny by noon.

 

When Johnny vomited, and then vomited again a few minutes later, Dixie was fairly certain his upset stomach was due more to exhaust fumes and their driver weaving in and out of the stalled traffic, than it was due to his head injury.  Nonetheless, she was concerned.  He hadn’t said anything to her since leaving Loma Linda, other than letting her know he wasn’t feeling so great when the nausea started to build.  That warning gave Dixie time to search for an emesis basin, and then grab it from a cabinet above her head.   Thankfully, she’d brought a supply of bottled water with her, which made it easy to wipe flecks of vomit off of Johnny’s chin using a towel she’d found in another cabinet, assist him with rinsing his mouth out, and then helping him take a drink.

 

After Dixie had gotten Johnny settled again, she’d wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

 

“Johnny, how are you feeling now?  Any more nausea?  Any increase in pain?”

 

“ ‘m okay.”

 

“You’re okay?”

 

“Ye--yeah.”

 

“You don’t sound okay.”

 

“I‘m ‘kay,” he insisted again, his words weak and incomplete.

 

Although his vital signs fell into the normal range, Dixie was certain Dr. Brackett would want a CT scan done after she told him about the vomiting, combined with her analysis of Johnny’s demeanor.  She hadn’t figured out yet if she’d describe him as listless, which could be a sign of serious complications including bleeding in the brain, or if the more accurate description was depressed.  Recent studies had shown bouts of depression were sometimes a side-affect of head injuries, but Dixie knew it wasn’t normal to see depression set in so soon after the injury had occurred.  That was generally something the patient dealt with weeks, or even months, down the road.  If Johnny was depressed, then Dixie suspected his mental state had far more to do with the missing John DeSoto, than it had to do with his concussion.

 

Dixie turned and looked out the side window behind her, trying to determine how far they were from Rampart.   They were finally moving again, heading south on 110 now. Waves of heat shimmered and rose from the pavement, making her thankful for the comfort of the air-conditioned ambulance.

 

The nurse patted her patient’s arm. “It won’t be much longer now, Johnny. We should be there in about twenty minutes.”

 

Dixie was surprised when he spoke to her.  He didn’t open his eyes, and his voice was quiet and tinged with exhaustion from what had turned out to be a long ride, but Dixie had no trouble understanding him.

 

“Will…do you know if…um…if Roy’s gonna be there?”

 

“At Rampart?”

 

“Ye--yeah.”

 

She could tell it was a hard question for him to ask.  As though his pride didn’t want to admit that he needed to see a friend when he arrived, and not just any friend, but Roy DeSoto specifically.

 

“I don’t know, Johnny.  If he’s not there, I can call him for you.”

 

Several seconds of silence slipped away before Johnny mumbled, “Don’ do that.  Wo--won’t be the same.  Be--besides, he needs…Roy needs to be with his family,” then shut himself off from Dixie once again.

 

Dixie studied the man’s pale face while giving his hand a light squeeze.  She wished she could take away the guilt consuming him, and she wished she could promise him that his best friend would be waiting for him at Rampart when they arrived. But Dixie didn’t have the power to make either of those things happen, so she simply kept his hand in hers until the ambulance backed up against the ER bay, and Kelly Brackett swung the doors open.

 

­­­­­­ Chapter 27

Rudy smiled at his “shadow.”  Katori was in the shed with him, helping him set up his loom.

 

“I didn’t know what this thing was when I first saw it,” the boy said of the two-tiered loom with the wooden pedals.

 

“Well, now you do.”

 

“Yeah. It’s a loom.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“You use it to weave rugs.”

 

“Uh huh,” Rudy agreed, while concentrating on the color pattern he wanted to achieve. 

 

The sun was rapidly fading in the western sky.  During the summer months, the only tolerable time of day to work in the shed was early in the morning, and then later in the evening.  Rudy supposed he could get a window air conditioner for the shed, just like he could get one for the house.  Farley would readily point out that Rudy had the money to do so, but still, it seemed like a wasteful use of hard earned cash in Rudy’s opinion.  It was only six months out of the year that intense heat settled over the area. The other six months were nice, with moderate daytime temperatures that allowed Rudy to work in his shed during all hours, and allowed him to be comfortable in the house without the need for his fan.   Rudy’d been to war. Therefore, he knew you could tolerate anything for six months if you were determined to get through it.

 

The trip to Essex had been uneventful for the most part, other than a brief scare when a police car raced up behind Rudy with its lights flashing.  With a pounding heart and a firm instruction of, “Stay down,” to Katori, Rudy had pulled over to the side of the road.  The squad flew by him, kicking up dust in its wake.  Whoever the cop was after, it hadn’t been Rudy.

 

A lot of things had gone right for Rudy that day. More than had gone wrong, he supposed.  The smartest thing he’d done was to buy the Buick. If he hadn’t done that, but instead had ridden back from Nipton with Farley, there would have been big trouble, because Katori was playing on the front porch when Rudy arrived home.  His first impulse was to yell at the boy, but he stopped himself when he remembered the kid was only five, and couldn’t be expected to remain hidden in a house all by himself for very long. 

 

Katori had run up to the Buick with an excited gleam in his eyes.  “Is this yours?”

 

“Sure is.  What were you doin’ outside?  I told you to stay in the house.”

 

“You said I should keep a look out for Uncle Johnny, so I was.” Katori circled the car.  “I couldn’t see very good from inside your house.”

 

“Oh.  Well from now on, you gotta do what I tell ya’, do you understand.”

 

“Uh huh,” the boy said with a distracted air that gave Rudy his first glimpse of what every mother in America went through on a daily basis.  “This sure looks a lot more like a car than your other one.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Well, my other one is a car, too, just a lot older than this one.  Now come on. You can help me clean it out.”

 

“Why do we gotta do that?”

 

“ ‘Cause I’m gettin’ rid of it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause it doesn’t run any more.”

 

“Why?”

 

And that was Rudy’s second lesson in childrearing – a five year old will ask a never-ending stream of questions if given a chance.

 

Rudy cleaned out the glove compartment, while telling Katori to look through the car and make sure there was nothing else in it.  Rudy knew there wasn’t, but searching beneath the seats and crawling around in the cargo hold kept the boy busy.  Ten minutes later, Rudy had the title signed and the keys beneath the seat.  He didn’t want to dawdle.  He had to be gone with Katori before Jeremy arrived.

 

Rudy made a stop in the bathroom. He then told Katori he’d better use it too, because they had a long drive ahead of them.  Rudy gathered up a few toys while the boy was doing as Rudy instructed.  He came out of the bathroom with wet hands and water all over his shirt, but at least he’d made an effort to wash up. 

 

Rudy handed the toys to Katori while he locked the house.  They walked together to the Buick.  The boy didn’t object when Rudy said he should sit on the floor beneath the dashboard on the passenger side.  Actually, he seemed to think that was a great adventure.

 

“I’ve never gotten to sit on the floor before.” The boy crossed his legs, faced the seat, and piled the toys on top of it so he could use it like a table. “I always have to sit in the seat, and put on the stupid seatbelt.”

 

“There’s nothin’ stupid about wearin’ your seatbelt.  This is just a…special kind of day, okay?  It’s not something you can do all the time.”

 

“Okay.  My mo…Uncle Johnny wouldn’t let me do it anyway.”

 

Rudy felt a stab of guilt at the mention of the man he hadn’t helped on Tuesday.  As he pulled on the road and headed toward Essex, he thought of telling the boy what he’d found out earlier that morning. That he wasn’t Katori, but John DeSoto, and that his parents were Roy and Joanne, and that his Uncle Johnny was in a hospital, but upon giving it further thought, Rudy decided not to.  Any or all of that news might make the child anxious to get back home.

 

So far, he seemed content to be with Rudy, while remaining under the misguided notion that John Gage would be coming for him.  That made Rudy suspicious Gage had sensed evil intentions on the part of the boys, and had somehow hidden Katori, or told him to hide.  Had the child climbed out of the back of Gage’s vehicle before the boys took off with it, or had he fled even before they beat Gage?  Had Gage sent him out across the desert, figuring that was the better alternative for Katori than being found by those punks?  Or had the child witnessed the assault, but was too traumatized to recall it, and had set out on his own accord when he couldn’t get a response from the unconscious Gage?  It was impossible for Rudy to guess which scenario might be accurate, and as much as he’d like to know, he didn’t want to ask.  Things needed to remain the way they were, with Katori happy to be with Rudy, until Rudy formulated a plan that would get the boy home.

 

It had been thirty minutes later when Rudy’d almost had a heart attack upon spotting the police car in his rearview mirror.  Thankfully, Katori remained on the floor of the car, and didn’t seem curious about why Rudy ordered him to stay there, or why Rudy’s hands were suddenly trembling on the steering wheel. 

 

The trip to Essex took an hour and a half.  The first stop Rudy made was at a second hand store he frequented.  It hadn’t been by chance that he’d decided to come here on a Thursday.  The owner, Mora Reed, knew him well.  But on Thursdays she took her elderly mother to the hairdresser, the grocery store, the pharmacy, and on any other errands the old woman needed to accomplish.  That meant Mora’s teenage daughter was in charge of the store, a job the girl hated, as was evidenced by her surly attitude.  That meant Rudy rarely came to the store on Thursdays, so the girl wouldn’t know him by sight or name the way Mora did.  That meant she also wouldn’t be wondering why he had a child in tow.  Mora knew Rudy had no children, but the girl knew nothing about him, because she hadn’t seen him more than twice in the past two years.

 

Rudy looked around the small parking lot.  Like he’d assume it might be, it was empty.  It was noon, meaning most people were eating lunch, or smart enough to stay in where it was cool.

 

Before he got out of the car, Rudy glanced around again.  He didn’t see anyone on the sidewalks, and didn’t see any squad cars on the street.  He grabbed Katori by the hand and pulled him up from the floor.

 

“Come on.”

 

“Where we goin’?”

 

“To get you some clothes. But you have to be quiet.  We can’t talk in here.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“ ‘Cause it’s just a place where they don’t like noise.”

 

“Like in church?”

 

“Yeah. Just like that.”

 

Rudy didn’t want Katori calling him by name, or revealing anything the girl might remember at a later date.  Therefore, he thought the best plan was to get their business done quickly and silently.

 

Rudy needn’t have worried about anything being overheard by the girl who had her hair spiked on top of her head and dyed purple.  She barely turned to look at the door when the bell hanging above it jingled as he walked in holding the boy’s hand.  She had some god awful music blaring from a radio behind the counter, and was talking on the phone about someone being a “fuckin’ idiot who deserves to have his nuts cut off.”

 

The first thing Rudy did was stop at a bin filled with baseball caps.  He didn’t care what logo was on the front.  He dug through it until he found one that looked like it had belonged to a child.  He thought the team it represented might be the Pittsburgh Pirates, but he wasn’t certain.  He hadn’t followed baseball since his television broke. 

 

He shoved the cap on Katori’s head, pulling the brim down low over his brow. The boy looked up, started to speak, but Rudy put a finger to his lips and cautioned, “Shhh.”

 

With the boy disguised as best as Rudy could get him, he took his hand and led him to the back of the store where the men’s and boy’s clothing was located.  It took Rudy a few minutes to find a pair of blue jeans and two pairs of shorts that would fit the child.  He held them up to Katori’s waist first. When that method didn’t give him any strong indications if the size was right, he had the boy slip the items on over the shorts he was wearing.  Katori gripped Rudy’s shoulders so he wouldn’t lose his balance. He whispered in the old man’s ear, “It’d work better if I can try ‘em on in a dressing room.”

 

“There isn’t one,” Rudy whispered back, while glancing at the girl who was still facing the wall, talking on the phone, and swearing like a drunken sailor.

 

It was easier figuring out if the three short sleeve shirts Rudy picked up fit the boy, and it only took seconds to determine a lightweight blue cotton jacket was his size.  All of the clothing was several years out of style, although Rudy wasn’t aware of that, nor would he have cared.  He’d accomplished what he’d come for.  In less than fifteen minutes he’d gotten enough clothes to get Katori by for a while.  Now it was time to pay for them.

 

Rudy headed for the counter, shoving Katori behind him when two gray haired women entered the store.  They gave the girl a disapproving glare, but didn’t turn around and leave like Rudy hoped they would.  They moved toward the women’s section on the opposite side of the store, stopping here and there along the way to check out the dishes, jewelry, second hand purses, shoes, and books.

 

Katori tugged on Rudy’s shirt.  The man looked down.

 

The boy whispered,  “How come they get to talk?”

 

“ ‘Cause they’re old women,” Rudy whispered back.  “Old women always talk no matter what the rules are.”

 

Rudy faced a dilemma when he arrived at the counter.  If he shoved Katori behind him, the women could get a better look of him.  If he kept the boy in front of him, Mona’s daughter could get a good look at him.  Rudy decided to risk exposing Katori to Mona’s daughter.  Since she showed no intention of getting off of the phone, he figured his odds were better that way.

 

Rudy laid the clothing on the counter.  He used a hand to gently bend Katori’s face toward the floor, then took the cap off of his head so the girl could ring it up.  Fortunately, there was a row of old Matchbox cars on a narrow shelf below the counter. Katori crouched to study them as the girl punched the price of each item into the ancient cash register while still keeping up a steady stream of conversation to her friend on the other end of the phone.

 

Six dollars and seventy-five cents and two Matchbox cars later, they were exiting the store.  Rudy hadn’t intended to buy any toys for Katori, but when the child put the cars on the counter, it was easier to pay for them than risk drawing attention by arguing with the boy. Rudy had a feeling Katori knew that.

 

Sly little bugger.

 

With the baseball cap firmly on Katori’s head and pulled low once more, Rudy had hurried the boy to the car.  He made him sit on the floor again.  He pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the street to Marge and Al’s Market.  He pulled in their lot as he turned on the air conditioning – the first time he’d used it – and instructed Katori to remain on the floor.

 

“Play with your toys.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

 

“Where you goin’?”

 

“To get some groceries. You stay here in case Uncle Johnny comes for you.”

 

“But how will he see me if I have ta’ sit on the floor?”

 

“Don’t worry, he’ll see you.”

 

“But how?”

 

Rudy sighed. “He just will.”

 

Rudy rolled up his window, then reached across the seat and rolled up Katori’s.  He exited the car and locked his door.  He had the spare key Kip had given him in a pocket, while the other one remained in the ignition so he could leave the car running and the air conditioning on.

 

Just like at the second hand store, the small grocery store was nearly empty because of the time of day.  Rudy got milk and peanut butter, then picked up several other items so he wouldn’t have to make another trip here for at least two weeks.  Considering he now had a child to deal with, and one he had to keep hidden at that, he didn’t want to leave the house again unless it was absolutely necessary.

 

The middle-aged cashier knew Rudy, though not by name.  She made small talk with him about the weather as she rang up the items he took from his cart.

 

“That was some excitement you folks had out your way on Tuesday.”

 

Rudy didn’t look up as he continued to unload his groceries onto the conveyor belt. 

 

“Excitement?”

 

“The man who was carjacked.”

 

“Oh.  Oh yeah. I heard about that.”

 

“And that poor little boy.  They haven’t found him yet, have they?”

 

“Not that I know of, but then, I don’t watch much TV.”

 

“It’s just too bad. You have to wonder what the world’s coming to, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah. Sure do.”

 

Rudy was glad when another customer came up behind him with a cart full of groceries.  That caused his cashier to quit talking and move a little faster when it came to checking him out and collecting his money.  A teenage bag boy had Rudy’s groceries stacked neatly in the cart by the time Rudy paid for them.  He gave the kid a cursory, “Thanks,” and pushed the cart outside. 

 

The man had parked as far away from the door as possible, something he normally wouldn’t do on a hot day.  But he didn’t want Katori to be seen if he did stick his head up, as he was doing when Rudy approached the back of the car.  He opened the cargo hold, getting a blast of cold air in the face that he couldn’t deny felt good. 

 

“Get down.”

 

“But I’ve been down.”

 

“Well, stay down.  If you’re good, I’ll buy you something for lunch.”

 

When the child ducked backed down, Rudy learned child rearing lesson number three. As much as you hate to resort to it, bribery works.

 

Rudy lined the grocery sacks up in the cargo hold, shut the door and locked it, then pushed the cart back to the store. Marge and Al didn’t have any of those fancy cart corrals like the K-mart in Barstow did.

 

The old man hurried to the car and got in. He smiled at Katori.

 

“Just one more stop.”

 

“Can I go in this time?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Can I sit in the seat?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Katori sighed. “I’m gettin’ kinda tired of sitting down here on the floor.”

 

“Well, you’re just gonna have to stay there.  How’d you like a hot dog and chocolate milk shake for lunch?”

 

“Yeah!  I’m starving.”

 

Rudy pulled up to a curb.

 

“Okay then, you stay on the floor and play with your toys, and when I come out, I’ll have lunch for you.”

 

Rudy could tell the boy didn’t want to obey, but the thought of food was too appealing.  He remained hidden on the floor while Rudy once again left the car running with the air conditioner on and went into Woolworth’s.

 

The store was old, its marred wooden floors, soda fountain, candy counter, and ceiling fans reminding Rudy of stores from his childhood.  He stopped at the soda fountain first.

 

“Two hot dogs and two chocolate milk shakes to go. I’ve got some shopping to do.  I’ll be back to get ‘em in a few minutes.”

 

This teenage girl was politer than Mona’s daughter, and her hair was long and blond, not spiked and purple. She smiled and asked,  “What would you like on the hot dogs?”

 

“Uh…just ketchup,” Rudy said, not knowing what else Katori might or might not like on his hot dog. Rudy figured ketchup was a safe choice. “Oh, and some French fries. Two orders of French fries.”

 

“All right.”

 

While the girl got his lunch ready, Rudy wandered around the store until he found a small section of boy’s clothing.  He grabbed a package of jockey shorts that looked like they’d fit Katori, and then a package of socks.  He didn’t browse like he usually did when he had reason to come here, but instead, hurried to the front counter to pay for the items.

 

The elderly cashier only knew Rudy by sight.  His name, his background, and where he was from, had never been something they’d discussed.

 

“Haven’t seen you for a while,” she said, as she rang up Rudy’s items.

 

“No, guess not. Been busy.”

 

“Doing some back to school shopping for a grandson, I see.”

“Uh…yeah.  I help my…uh…my daughter out now and again with some of the expenses.  It cost a lot to raise a kid these days.”

 

“Sure does. I’ve got seven grandchildren myself. How about you?”

 

“Uh…one. Just the one.”

 

Rudy paid the woman, then accepted the bag she handed him. He was glad to get away from her. She was too nosey. 

 

By the time Rudy arrived back at the soda fountain the girl had his food and drinks in a sturdy paper bag.  Several men had come in while Rudy was shopping. They were sitting on stools waiting for their lunch, which made the girl in a hurry to finish up with Rudy.

 

Rudy paid his bill, picked up his bag, said, “Thanks,” and left the store.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he got to the car and found Katori playing on the floor.  He tossed the bag of underwear and socks into the backseat, set their lunch on the front seat amongst the child’s toys, then put the car in gear. 

 

“Is that our food?”

 

“Yep.  Let me get us moving, then we’ll eat.”

 

Rudy drove a few miles out of town, then kept control of the steering wheel with one hand, while pulling food out of the bag with the other. It wasn’t easy for Rudy to eat and drive at the same time, but he managed.  Katori was content to stay on the floor as he gobbled down his lunch.  Keeping the boy on the floor during the rest of the ride home was easy.  He fell asleep down there with his half empty milkshake container clutched to his chest, and didn’t wake up until they pulled into Rudy’s driveway an hour later.

 

The Bel Air was gone when they arrived home.  Rudy already missed her, but he’d done the only thing he could by purchasing the Buick. 

 

He watched as Katori scrambled out of the car. There was no doubt the poor kid needed to run around and stretch his legs for a bit.

 

It was after supper that evening when Rudy had brought Katori to the shed with him.  As the boy kept up a steady stream of chatter while helping Rudy look through boxes of scrap material for colors to be used in a rug for Gwen Taylor’s sister, Rudy was surprised to find himself thinking once again how nice it was to have company.   

 

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