Chapter 50

Many years had passed since Farley Hutton had taken charge of a situation that involved more than just himself.  Not since his days in the mine, when he’d supervised some of the young guys.  His leadership skills were rusty, but not forgotten.  As John’s crying escalated, and as Rudy looked more and more like he was on the verge of a heart attack, Farley realized now wasn’t the time to scold his friend or try to get answers from him.  Now was the time to get everyone calmed down.  Answers and explanations could come later.

Farley squinted, studying the sun-baked road.  It was desolate, like he expected it to be at this time on a Wednesday.  He gently grasped Rudy’s left elbow.

“Come on.”

Terror shone from Rudy’s eyes.

“No.  No, Farley.  I--”

“I’m not takin’ ya’ to the cops,” Farley assured.  “Now come on.  Let’s go over to my place.  Looks to me like we got a lotta talkin’ to do. I ain’t gonna do that in this sweat box a’ yours.  Besides, the boy here’ll be more comfortable at my house.  He can watch TV while we talk.”

Rudy hesitated a moment, then nodded his agreement.  He picked up the crying John.  The child buried his head in Rudy’s shoulder and allowed the man to carry him to Farley’s truck without question.

 

“I wanna go home.  I just wanna go home now.”

 

Farley saw his friend pat the child’s back and heard him murmur, “I know, Katori.  I know. You will.  You’ll go home soon.  You’ll go home soon, I promise.”

 

Rudy set the boy on the passenger side floor.  When John didn’t fuss about that, but instead, leaned against Rudy’s legs and continued crying, Farley surmised the pair had traveled like this before, with John hidden from view.

 

Farley started the engine and set the air conditioner on high.  It was ten minute drive from Rudy’s house to his.  Other than passing a truck hauling freight on Nipton Road, Farley encountered no vehicles, and didn’t see any signs of cops searching for the boy.  He swung the Ford into his driveway.  Like Rudy’s home, Farley’s house sat on a lonely stretch of desert back road; his nearest neighbor two and a half miles away.  Still, the old man peered around carefully as he exited the vehicle, making sure no cars were coming down his little used road, and no one was walking out in the desert.  Not that he expected anyone to be walking in the desert at noon on an August day where the temperature was a scorching one hundred and fifteen, but given the handful of sheriff’s deputies still in the area, it was better to be safe than sorry.  When he didn’t see anyone, Farley said, “All’s clear,” to Rudy, adding, “Hurry up. Git the boy into the house.”

 

Farley slammed his door shut.  He was halfway to the house when he heard the passenger door shut.  He had the front door of his home open by the time Rudy arrived with the child, who was clinging to his hand and trotting along beside him in an effort to keep up with Rudy’s long strides.

 

Farley ushered the pair into his house.  The window air conditioner in the living room hummed a comforting rhythm that rarely went unheard here in the desert between April and October.  Farley had an air conditioner in his bedroom, too, but it wasn’t running right now.  To save on the cost of electricity, he didn’t turn it on until shortly before he went to bed.

 

The old miner shut the front door and locked it.  He limped to the window that didn’t hold the air conditioner and shut the draperies.  He didn’t often get visitors he wasn’t expecting other than Rudy, but the last thing he needed today was someone snooping around his house, or someone stopping by and just walking in the front door without knocking, like Fred Hucklesmith, the mailman, was prone to doing if he had a package for Farley that wouldn’t fit in his mailbox at the end of the driveway.

 

Farley turned and eyed his guests.  Rudy didn’t look quite as scared, but he was still pale and shaky. John’s eyes were red and his nose was running.  He leaned against Rudy, clinging to the old man’s hand. 

 

“Well now, don’t you two look like somethin’ the cat drug in.  Come on.  Let’s go to the kitchen.  I ain’t had my lunch yet.  How about you?”

 

“Uh…no.  Not yet.  We don’t usually eat until noon.”

 

“Ain’t that far from noon, Rudy.  By the time I git somethin’ together for us, it’ll be close enough, don’t ya’ think?”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, sure.”  Rudy looked own at the boy.  “Whatta you think, Katori?  You hungry?”

 

In a voice so soft Farley could barely hear it, the boy confessed to Rudy, “My…my name isn’t Katori.  It’s John.  John DeSoto.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Then can you take me home to my mom and dad?  I don’t think Uncle Johnny’s gonna come for me.  I think he’s mad at me ‘cause I didn’t stay in the hiding place like I was supposed to.”

 

“Uncle Johnny’s not mad at you, Katori.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“ ‘Cause he’s bin in the hosp--”

 

Rudy shot Farley a look that said, “Shut your trap. You wanna upset the boy any more than he’s already upset?” and interrupted the man before he could finish.

 

“I just know.  But let’s not worry about that right now, okay?  Let’s go into Farley’s kitchen and see what he’s gonna make us for lunch.”

 

“Then will you take me to my mom and dad?”

 

Rudy looked at Farley, seeking advice.

 

“Me and Rudy are gonna jaw about that after we eat lunch, John.  While you watch some TV.  How’s that sound?”

 

John’s eyes widened with excitement.  “You’ve got a TV?”

 

“Sure do.” Farley indicated to a corner of the room where a mammoth Motorola console sat angled.  A rotor box rested on top of it, so Farley could turn the antenna in whatever direction he need to without going outdoors.

 

“Wow!  I haven’t watched TV in years.  Rudy doesn’t have one.”

 

“I know.  Just one a’ his many quirks.  Now come on.  Let’s git some lunch rustled up first.  You like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese?”

 

“I love it!  Rudy doesn’t buy it.  We mostly eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch.”

 

Farley could easily imagine that John had been on a steady diet of peanut butter and jelly since encountering Rudy.  Rudy wasn’t one to buy many prepackaged foods, claiming expense and poor taste as his excuse for staying away from most things that came from a box or can, or were found in the frozen food section.  Peanut butter, eggs, oatmeal, cereal, pancakes, tuna fish, cheese, crackers, fresh fruits and vegetables, and an occasional hamburger or hotdog had probably made up the bulk of the boy’s meals since arriving at Rudy’s.

 

“Then come on.  Follow me to the kitchen.”

 

It was only a few steps to the doorway that led into Farley’s kitchen.  He plucked a napkin from the holder on the center of a square maple table that sat four and handed it to John.

 

“Here, John.  Use that to wipe your nose.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Welcome. Garbage can’s right over here in this cabinet under the sink.  You can throw it away when you’re done.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Rudy ate with Farley often enough to know where things were kept.  He set the table while Farley started water boiling and then moved to his refrigerator.

 

“Ya’ like Mrs. Paul’s fish sticks, John?”

 

John looked up from the garbage can he was tossing the napkin into, tears and homesickness suddenly forgotten in the face of hunger. 

 

“Yeah!  I like ‘em as much as I like macaroni and cheese.”

 

“Good.  Got some a’ those too.  I’ll make ‘em in that there microwave oven my brothers and their wives gave me for Christmas.  They’re not as crispy as when I make ‘em in the regular oven, but it’s too hot to turn it on today.”

 

“I like ‘em cooked in the microwave.  My mom does ‘em that way sometimes when I’m really really hungry.  I don’t care if they’re not crispy.”

 

Farley chuckled as he maneuvered around the boy with a plate full of frozen fish sticks; headed to the big square microwave setting on a stand against the far wall.

 

“Glad to hear it.”

 

Farley took a package of hamburger buns out of the breadbox next, asking Rudy to get tartar sauce and pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator. 

 

“I got some tomaters in there too, if you wanna slice some up and put ‘em on a plate for us.”

 

“Will do.”

 

As Farley poured the box of macaroni into the now boiling water, he caught sight of John looking around the kitchen.

 

“Pass yer inspection?”

 

“Uh?”

 

“My kitchen.  Does it pass yer inspection?  Is it clean ‘nough for ya’?”

 

“It’s real clean. Just like Rudy’s.”

 

“That’s ‘cause me and Rudy learned discipline in the Army.”

 

“What’s dis’pline?”

 

“It’s when they teach ya’ things like how to keep a clean kitchen.”

 

“Oh.  Well, it’s real clean all right. Kinda old lookin’, like Rudy’s, but your refrigerator isn’t old like his.”

 

“That’s ‘cause unlike stingy ole’ Rudy, I believe in modern conveniences.”

 

“Does the mean you like new stuff?”

 

“When the old stuff breaks I do.  Bought me that ‘frigerator, and the stove too, at the Sears and Roebuck in Vegas a couple months ago.  That’s where I got me my washer and dryer a few years back when my old ones quit workin’.  Go on.” Farley indicated to the hallway behind the kitchen.  “Take a look at ‘em.  They’re at the end of the hall in the utility room.”

 

The boy did as Farley instructed, traveling the hall that held the same aging blue and white linoleum flooring that was in the kitchen. Just like Rudy’s utility room was a former back porch that had been enclosed, so was Farley’s.  Rudy had helped him convert the back porch to a utility room in 1953, if Farley recalled correctly.  Just a few months after he’d married Vera, because he wanted to make life in the desert as easy for her as he could.

 

When he returned, John announced, “They look like what we have at home.”

 

“I ‘spect they do.”

 

“Rudy’s washing machine is called a wringer washer.  You have to wring the water outta the clothes by runnin’ ‘em through the wringer thing.  I’ve watched him do it.  And he doesn’t have a dryer, either.  He hangs the clothes outside on a clothesline.  I’ve been helpin’ him do that.”

 

“That’s a good boy.”

 

“And you have two bedrooms. Rudy only has one. And your bathroom is bigger than his.”

 

“That’s ‘cause I wanted the best for my Vera.”

 

“Who’s Vera?”

 

“She was my wife.”

 

“Where is she?”

 

“She left a long time ago.”

 

“Left?”

 

“Run off.”

 

“To hide?”

 

Farley chuckled. “Guess you could say that, yeah.”

 

“Did you try to find her?”

 

“Sure did.”

 

“But you couldn’t?”

 

“Oh, I found her all right.”

 

“Then where is she?”

 

“Still the same place she run off to far’z I know.  She wouldn’t come back.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“That’s just the way women are sometimes.  Take it from me, little fella’, yer better off without ‘em. Women ‘cause a guy more trouble than they’re worth. Ain’t that right, Rudy?”

 

“Seems to be.”

 

“That’s what Uncle Johnny says too.”

 

Farley winked at the boy.  “Then Uncle Johnny is one smart man.”

 

The microwave dinged, and John scurried to Rudy’s side to watch him take the plate of fish sticks from it.

 

Rudy wrinkled his nose.  “You really like those things that much?”

 

“Yeah!  They’re one of the best things for lunch ever.”

 

“Good thing we came over here then, uh?  ‘Cause if we were at home we’d be eating peanut butter and grape jelly.”

 

Rudy and Farley both laughed when John rolled his eyes and said with all the drama he could muster, “Don’t I know it.”

 

Farley pointed to a chair between himself and Rudy.  “You set there, John.”

 

Rudy helped John fill his plate from the dish of macaroni and cheese Farley’d had brought to the table, then made a fish sandwich for him, and filled his glass with lemonade.  Farley watched his friend while filling his own plate and making two sandwiches for himself. 

 

“You do that real nice, Rudy.  You’d a made somebody a good mommy.”

 

“Ha ha.  Stick it in your ear, ya’ old, coot.”

 

“I ain’t gonna stick it nowhere but up your--”

 

“Na uh.”  Rudy put a finger to his lips and indicated to the boy with slight tilt of his head.  “Language.”

 

“Oh for God’s…yer like a dadburn kindergarten teacher.”

 

“Rudy’s not a kindergarten teacher or a mommy,” Johnny said around a mouthful of macaroni.  “He’s like Gray Wolf.”

 

“What’s a Gray Wolf?”

 

“Uncle Johnny’s grandpa.”

 

“So that means Rudy’s like a grandpa, is that it?”

 

“Yeah. Like Uncle Johnny’s grandpa.”

 

“Is that good?”

 

“Yep.  Gray Wolf’s real nice, and he knows lots of stories ‘bout Indians, and he makes neat stuff like Rudy does, and his house is old inside like Rudy’s too, ‘cept Gray Wolf’s got a TV like you do, Farley.”

 

“Smart man.”

 

“He is smart.  He knows what kinda animals make marks on the ground, and he can even follow ‘em.  He lives on an Indian reservation.”

 

“How about where you live?”

 

“Where I live?”

 

Farley started questioning the boy then as to what his neighborhood was like.  Based on the news reports, the miner already knew John was from Carson. The early stages of an idea were forming in Farley’s head about how they could get John back to his parents. 

 

Farley got the impression this was the first time since meeting Rudy that John was willing to talk about himself, his family, and his home, because Rudy grumbled, “If you’d only told me all of this two weeks ago, you’da saved us both a lotta grief.”

 

“But I couldn’t tell you, Rudy.  I was hiding.  I told you that.  I had to wait for Uncle Johnny.  Only now I don’t think he’s gonna come for me.  I think he’s mad ‘cause I didn’t stay in the ditch like he told me too.”

 

Rudy swiped at the cheese stains around John’s mouth with a napkin.  “I already told you. Uncle Johnny’s not mad at you.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I just do.  Are you finished eating?”

 

“Yeah, I’m full.”  John turned to Farley. “It was really good.”

 

“Well thank you.  I can’t put together no fancy turkey dinner like my sister-in-law Nelda can, but I do pretty good with stuff like fish sticks and macaroni and cheese.”  Farley pointed toward the doorway. “Wanna watch some TV now?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

“Go on then.  One a’ the stations plays cartoons all afternoon.  Flip the dial around.  You’ll find it.”

 

“Okay!”

 

John hopped off his chair.  He ran for the living room, his feet pounding against the floor. 

 

“Be careful of my card table!  Don’t knock my puzzle off!”

 

“I won’t!”

 

Farley chuckled after the boy was gone and he heard the TV come on. 

 

“Cute little feller.”

 

“Yeah, he is.”

 

Farley pushed his plate aside, leaned back in his chair, and looked across the table at his friend. 

So, unless you’ve gone wacko on me and have started snatchin’ kids in yer old age, I’m guessin’ you’ve got a story to tell me about how you came by the one who’s watchin’ my TV.”

 

“It’s a story all right.”

 

“Then how about lettin’ me in on it.”

 

Rudy pushed his own plate aside and glanced into the living room.  Farley followed his gaze, seeing John on his stomach in front of the television, watching a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

 

“He can’t hear us.  Between the TV and the air conditioner, he won’t be able to hear a word we say.”

 

Rudy nodded.  He drained the lemonade in his glass, then began.  He started his story with that Tuesday two weeks earlier, when his car broke down and he started walking toward Nipton.  He told Farley about the punks who’d tried to run him off the road when he’d attempted to hitch a ride with them, and then a little while later, coming upon what he thought was a dead man. 

 

“I guess I shoulda’ kept headin’ to Nipton then. Shoulda’ got help for him, but honest, Farl, I thought he was already a goner.  I didn’t wanna have to answer a bunch of questions.  What could I tell the cops anyway?  I hadn’t seen anything, and I didn’t know for sure who hurt the guy.  So I headed here to get you.”

 

“Where’s the kid come in?”

 

 “He was hiding in the back of the Bel Air.  I never saw him until after I’d been home for a while.  I was takin’ my stuff out of the back and carryin’ it into the house when I caught him nosing around my shed.  That’s when he told me he’d been hiding in my car, but he wouldn’t tell me his name, or where he’d come from.  Just kept insisting his name was Katori, and that he was waiting for someone to come get him named Uncle Johnny.”

 

“Why didn’t you take him to the cops right then, Rudy?”

 

“I…I don’t know.  My car wasn’t working for one thing, if you remember right. And ‘cause I didn’t want to get involved.  You know I don’t trust no cop farther than I can throw him. It was only after I went to town with you on Thursday that I found out what happened.  That Mr. Gage really wasn’t dead, and a boy had been with him everyone was looking for.  I been meaning to get Katori somewhere I can drop him off – a church, a fire station, a police station – somewhere I know he’ll be safe and get help, only I just…” 

 

When Rudy paused, Farley saw the fear and vulnerability in his eyes.

 

“I’m scared, Farl.  I know I’ve let this go on longer than I should, but I wanna make sure Katori gets back to his folks okay, only I…I’m afraid of gettin’ caught with him.  Every day I’ve let it go on makes it that much harder to do what I know I got to.”

 

“Which is why it’s a good thing I caught you with him today, ‘cause I got me a plan.”

 

“A plan?”

 

“For gettin’ the little feller back home.”

 

“Not the cops.  I ain’t goin’ to the cops.”’

 

“It don’t involve no cops.  Just you and me.”

 

“Us? How?”

 

Farley stood and walked to a kitchen drawer. He pulled out a folded map of California, a sheet of lined paper, and a pen.  He returned to the table, pushed John’s dishes off to the side by his, and sat down in the chair the boy had occupied so he was next to Rudy.  He opened the map, spread it out on the table, and studied it.  He scribbled down directions on his sheet of paper, then passed it over to Rudy.

 

“This is what I’m thinkin’.  Come Friday, we’re takin’ the boy back to his house.”

 

“But--”

 

“Just listen to me now.  I figure it’ll take us about four hours to get to Carson from here, maybe a little longer.  From what John said at lunch, he lives in one a’ them middle class suburban neighborhoods like Olen’s.  That means it’ll be pretty quiet during a weekday.  Especially if we drop him off a few minutes after twelve, when all the mothers and their kids will be inside eatin’ lunch.  And if it’s anything like Olen’s neighborhood, then a lotta the women are holdin’ down jobs too, like their men folk, meanin’ the kids are off at a daycare place and the houses are empty.”

 

“Daycare?”

 

“Kinda like a big kindergarten where kids go whose mothers work at a job away from the house.  You pay to have your kid there. Even babies go there.  Some of my nephews and nieces – their kids go to these daycare places.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like a good way to raise a kid to me.”

 

“To me either, but times have changed since we was young bucks, Rudy. The world moves a lot faster, and everyone wants new stuff right from the git go –– TV’s, appliances, cars, houses.  They don’t wanna work for stuff like we did.  They buy everything on credit, and then the next thing ya’ know the women have to git jobs too, in order to help pay fer the crap.”

 

“And you make fun of my old stuff.”

 

“The only reason I make fun of it is ‘cause I know you can afford better, ya’ rich ole’ loon.”

 

“I ain’t rich.”

 

“Maybe not, but you’re a helluva lot better off than you let on.”

 

“And what’s that got to do with gettin’ Katori back home?”

 

“Nothin’.  I was just pointin’ out that you can afford to buy new things without goin’ into debt, but you don’t, and these young ones can’t afford to, but they do it anyway.” Farley glanced back down at his directions.  “John said his mother didn’t have a job when I asked him, so she’ll probably be home.”

 

“What if she’s not?”

 

“Uh?”

 

“What is she’s not home?  What if no one’s home?  I can’t just leave him there by himself.”

 

“He’s got a father, and an older brother and sister. Teenagers, according to what I saw on the news. Someone’s bound to be home.”

 

“But what if they’re not?”

 

“Then we’ll send him to a neighbor’s house.”

 

“But you just said the houses would be empty. That everyone would be working.”

 

“Not everyone will be working.  Only about three quarters of ‘em if we’re lucky.”

 

“Maybe so, but no matter what, we can’t just walk up to the front door with him. His folks will call the cops for sure.”

 

“We’re not gonna walk to the front door with him. We’re gonna drop him off a little ways from the house, kinda tail him and make sure he gets there, then take off like a bat outta hell.  By the time he gets inside and everyone gets over the shock a’ seein’ him and comes out to look for us, we’ll be long gone.”

 

Doubt crossed Rudy’s face. “I don’t know.  It sounds pretty risky.”

 

“What in tarnation do you call what you’ve been doin’ the last two weeks?  Ain’t it been risky to keep the boy at your place?”

 

“Well…yeah.”

 

“This ain’t gonna be much riskier than that, believe you me.”

 

“What if we can’t find his house?”

 

“We’ll find it.  Once we get in Carson, he should be able to direct us there.”  Farley stood and limped to the doorway. He yelled to be heard over the air conditioner and TV. “Hey, John, ya’ know what street you live on?”

 

The boy turned his upper body around to he was facing Farley.  “Yeah! The one that’s a little ways from the school where I’m gonna go to kindergarten.”

 

Farley came back to the table. “See there.  He knows what street he lives on. The one that’s a little ways from the school where’s he’s gonna go to kindergarten.”

 

“Sounds pretty vague if you ask me.”

 

“Well I didn’t ask you.  It’s a landmark.  One he’ll recognize.  That’s all that matters.”

 

Rudy fell silent. Farley could tell he was thinking the plan over.  And like Farley knew would happen, Rudy reluctantly agreed to it, because short of taking John to the police and trying to explain why he’d kept the boy for two weeks, he didn’t have much other choice.

 

“Okay, that’s the way it’ll be done then.  Only you’re not comin’ with me.”

 

“What?  A’ course I am.  It’s my plan, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, it is.  But if I get caught--”

 

“You won’t get caught.”

 

“I hope not, but if I do, I’m not gonna let you put your neck in the noose too, Farl.  I’m takin’ full responsibility for this.”

 

“But--”

 

“No. I mean it. I go alone when I take him back.”

 

“You’re gonna need a navigator.”

 

“No I’m not. I was born and raised in L.A., remember?  Haven’t been back there in close to forty years now, but I still know my way around the city and her outskirts.”

 

“A lot changes in forty years.”

 

“Maybe so, but I’ll be all right.”

 

“I still don’t think--”

 

“Don’t much care what you think.  I ain’t draggin’ you into this with me, and that’s final.”

 

“All right, all right.  Have it your way.  But you’re takin’ my truck, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

 

“No.  I--”

 

Farley waggled a finger.  “Uh huh.  I said I won’t take no for an answer.  You’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb in John’s neighborhood in that old Buick of yours.”

 

“It’s newer then the Bel Air.”

 

“Maybe so, but still, it’ll be real noticeable.  I’ll wash the truck tomorrow so it ain’t got no desert dust on it.  Considerin’ how new it is, and once it’s clean, no one’ll pay a lick of attention to it.  I’ll come over to your place at seven-thirty on Friday morning and pick the two of you up.  You can bring me back here.  That way if anyone drives by your place, they’ll see the Buick parked there and think you’re home.”

 

“Why’s that important?”

 

“So if anything happens and we need the police to think you had nothing to do with the boy, there’ll be at least one witness to say that your car was in your driveway.”

 

“Who would that be?”

 

“Fred. What time’s he deliver the mail to your place?”

 

“Usually about one-thirty.”

 

“Good.  That works out perfectly.”

 

“What about you?  Your truck won’t be here.”

 

“People are used to seein’ my truck gone all times of the day.  I go to town a lot, run errands here and there, stop to see you or some of the other guys we used to work with.  No one will think anything of it.  ‘Sides, about the only person who even pays any attention is Fred.  Otherwise, no one travels this road enough to know my habits, anymore than folks travel your road.”

 

“I suppose that’s true.”

 

“It is.”  Farley studied his friend.  “And we’ll disguise you too.”

 

“Disguise me? How?”

 

“Tuck your hair into the back of your shirt for one thing.  And put a baseball cap on ya’ along with a pair of sunglasses. Make sure you pack the boy a snack and something to drink.  You don’t wanna have to stop anywhere.”

 

“What if he has to go to the bathroom?”

 

“Then stick to a rest stop along the freeway.  The kind where lots of truckers are.   They’ll be in such a hurry to get back on the road again that they won’t pay you no mind. That, or they’ll be catchin’ some shut eye.  I figure you oughta leave here by eight on Friday.  That’ll give us tomorrow to get you and John ready.”

 

“Ready?”

 

“You gotta memorize the route I wrote down.  You can’t have the directions on you.  We’ll put the map in the glove box, but no way can you have them directions with you in case you get stopped by a cop for some reason.  We’re also gonna have to make John understand that he can’t say where he’s been, or tell anyone your name or my name.”

 

“You think he can do that? He’s only five.”

 

“You’d better hope he can.”

 

“Well…he might be able to.  It wasn’t until a little while ago in your living room that he finally told me his name.  The whole time he’s been with me all he’s told me about himself is that his name is Katori and that he’s waiting for Uncle Johnny to come find him.”

 

“See there.  He can keep his mouth shut.  We just gotta give him some options.”

 

“Options?”

“Things he can tell his folks and the cops ‘bout where he’s been and how he’s survived for two weeks by himself.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know yet.  I’ll think on it tonight, then come over and pick you two up at nine tomorrow morning.  If I gotta spend the day helping you get him ready, then we’re gonna do it here, where there’s air conditioning and decent food.”

 

“My food is decent.”

 

“Yeah, if I wanna eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch, which I don’t.”

 

Farley stood to collect the dirty dishes.  Rudy rose to help him.

 

“You got anything in the house that belongs to the boy that he didn’t show up with?”

 

“Some clothes and a baseball hat I bought him at Mora’s store in Essex. Some undershorts and socks I got at the Woolworth’s there.  A couple little toy cars too.”

 

“Then make sure you put that stuff in bag and give it to me on Friday.  I’ll burn the clothes and hat. The cars I can stuff in with my garbage.  I always go to the dump on Saturday.  I’ll take ‘em out there then.  Just make sure that whatever John goes home wearing, is what he had on when you found him, right down to his underwear and socks.”

 

“I will.”

 

“And them toys I saw in your living room last week. The ones you said belonged to you and your brother and sisters?”

 

“What about ‘em?”

 

“You had ‘em out for John to play with, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

 

“Make sure you put ‘em away and store ‘em back wherever it was you were keepin’ ‘em.  Get rid of any signs he was there, Rudy.  As a matter a’ fact, we’ll bring your garbage bags here on Friday too.  That way on Saturday, I’ll get rid of everything you had.”

 

“Why’s that important?”

 

“Just in case the cops come snoopin’ around.  You don’t want more garbage than seems normal for one guy. The dump opens at seven.  I’m always one of the first ones there.  Other than waving to Herb as I pass by the office, I never see no one, and he never pays attention to how many bags I dump, or where I put ‘em.  By quarter after seven on Saturday morning, all the evidence will be gone.”

 

The two men stood together by the sink.  Farley ran warm water in the white porcelain single basin, then added dish soap. Rudy got a clean towel out of a drawer and dried each dish, glass, and utensil as it was handed to him.  When the dishes were clean and dry, Rudy put them away while Farley wiped off the table and countertops, then stuck the pitcher of lemonade back in the refrigerator.

 

As Rudy folded the damp dishtowel and hung it on a silver rack Farley had mounted next to the window above the sink, he asked, “Do you really think I can pull this off?  You think I can get John back home, and that he won’t say anything about me once he’s there?”

 

“I don’t know.  I sure as hell hope so.  But what choice do you have?  You can’t keep him.”

 

Rudy bit his lower lip and stared at the floor.

 

“Rudy?  Oh no.  Uh huh.  No way.  You can’t keep him. Blast it, Rudy. You’ve gone and got attached to him, haven’t ya’?”

 

“He is a nice little kid.”

 

“Nice or not, you can’t keep him.  He’s not yours.  His father was in town on Monday showin’ his picture around and askin’ us to keep an eye out for him.  The man’s hurtin’, Rudy.  I could see it on his face.  His whole family is hurtin’.  Imagine how John’s mother must feel.  Or John Gage. That paramedic feller John was with.  How do you think he feels, thinkin’ he was responsible for his friend’s little boy, and now that boy is gone.  They must all think he’s dead by now.”

 

Rudy finally met Farley’s eyes.  “Didn’t say I was gonna keep him.  I know his family is torn up.  It was just…nice.  Havin’ some company for a while.  Havin’ a young one around.  Made me wonder how things mighta been if Carol…” Rudy shook his head. “It was a long time ago, and I’m an old man.  It’s stupid to have thoughts like that.  I’ll take Katori home on Friday just like you said I should.”

 

“It’s not stupid.  Me…sometimes I wonder how things might be for me and Vera if we were still married.  How things mighta been if we’d had a few kids.  Stuff like that.  Guess you and me are cut from the same cloth, uh?”

 

“Guess so.  Just a couple ole’ desert rats no woman wants to lay eyes on.”

 

“Not for long anyway.  Oh well, I’m gettin’ too old to worry about keeping some woman happy.  How about you?”

 

“I got too damn old years ago.”

 

Farley laughed at his friend, then put an arm around his shoulders. 

 

“It’ll be okay.  If ya’ just do like I tell ya’ to, you’ll get the boy back to his folks and be outta there before you can say ‘cat ran over the rooftop with a piece a’ raw liver in his mouth.’”

 

“Why would I wanna say that?”

 

“I don’t know why you’d wanna say it.  It’s just an expression.”

 

“Not one I ever heard before.”

 

“Then it’s like I keep tellin’ ya’, ya’ need to get out more.”  Farley dropped his arm and moved to the refrigerator where he opened the freezer door.  “Get out three bowls, spoons, and the ice cream scoop, will ya’?”

 

“Why?”

 

“ ‘Cause we’re gonna eat spinach, dummy. Whatta ya’ think?  We’re gonna have ice cream.”

 

“You shouldn’t give Katori all this junk food.”

 

“And just what’s junky about macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and ice cream?”

 

“A lot. I’m surprised you haven’t had a heart attack yet.”

 

“Well I haven’t, so there.  And that just goes to show that the stuff I eat ain’t junky at all.”

 

“In your opinion.”

 

“Yeah, in my opinion, which is the only opinion that counts in my house.”  Farley turned toward the doorway. “Hey, John!  You want an ice cream sundae?”

 

John flew into the room.  His face glowed with excitement at the thought of capping off an afternoon of macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, and cartoons, with ice cream sundaes. 

 

“Yay! Yay!  Ice cream sundaes!”

 

“What ya’ want on it?  Chocolate sauce?  Butterscotch sauce? Or caramel sauce?”

 

“Can I have all three?  Uncle Johnny lets me.”

 

“Sure. If you want all three, you can have all three.”

 

“And marshmallows. The little ones.  Do you have some of those?”

 

“Sure do. And some whipped cream in this here can, and some cherries too.”

 

“Wow!  These are gonna be really super duper ice cream sundaes, huh, Cloud Jumper?”

 

“Looks that way.  I just hope I’m not up all night with you helpin’ you get through a stomachache.”  

 

“Oh, I won’t get a stomachache.  My mom says I’ve got a cast iron stomach, just like Uncle Johnny.”

 

“That’s good then, ‘cause I don’t want a sick boy on my hands.”

 

Farely began putting John’s sundae together. “Whattta ya’ want on your ice cream, Rudy?”

 

“Just some of the butterscotch sauce’ll be fine.”

 

“No marshmallows?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“No whipped cream?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“No cherries, or chocolate sauce, or caramel?”

 

“No, no and no.  Bad enough that I’ll be dealin’ with a little boy with an upset stomach.  I don’t need one too.”

 

“Party pooper.”

 

John laughed and mimicked Farley.  “Yeah, party pooper.”

 

Rudy pretended to make a grab for John. “Why you little…”

 

The boy ran for the living room, shrieking with delight, Rudy playfully chasing after him.  A few minutes later, John was settled on the floor in front of the TV set again, eating a large bowl of ice cream while Rudy and Farley sat behind him in easy chairs eating their ice cream sundaes as well.  After everyone was finished, Rudy took the bowls into the kitchen, washed them, and put them away so Farley would have to do it later.  When he returned to the living room and sat down, John climbed in his lap.

 

Farley subtly eyed the pair while the air conditioner droned in the background, and Elmer Fudd hunted “wascally wabbits” on the television set.  The back of John’s head was resting against Rudy’s right shoulder, while Rudy’s left arm was around the boy’s waist in a loose hug.

 

Boy oh boy, Rudy, but you sure have got yerself attached to that little feller.  I never thought I’d see the day when a kid worked his way right into yer crusty ole heart, but that boy’s surely done it.  I just hope you’re ready to say goodbye to him come Friday, and him to you, or we’re gonna have us a peck of trouble.  Geez Louise, but we’ll have more trouble than we can shake a stick at.

 

Farley didn’t take Rudy and John home until after dark that night.  Like he told Rudy, the boy might as well stay in where it was cool, and where TV kept him so easily entertained.  Farley fed his guests a supper of corn on the cob along with bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, enjoying their company as much as they seemed to enjoy his. 

 

The old miner watched as Rudy carried the sleeping boy into his house at ten o’clock that night.  Farley waited until the living room light came on, then pulled out of Rudy’s driveway and headed toward his own home once again.  Like he’d told Rudy he would, Farley started thinking of what he was going to coach John into saying when his parents and the police asked him where he’d been, who’d taken care of him, and how he’d gotten back home. 

 

As Farley drove down the dark deserted roads surrounding the little town of Nipton, he prayed he’d be a good enough teacher, and that young John would be a good enough pupil, to keep Rudy out of jail.

 

Chapter 51

Joanne sat next to her husband at the kitchen table, taking comfort from the way his callused left hand covered her smooth right one.  She’d gotten up before Roy that morning and made him breakfast, just like she always used to do on a morning when he was scheduled to work.  She hadn’t done this since they’d returned home without John, but over the last couple of days, she was trying to be a wife to her husband again, and a mother to Chris and Jennifer. 

 

It wasn’t easy, and Roy seemed to sense that.  She still wanted to curl up on John’s bed and stay there all day with her arms wrapped around his stuffed animals, smelling his sweet scent on the toys, and seeing reminders of her little lost boy as her eyes roamed the room painted bright blue, and decorated with wallpaper depicting red fire engines of various shapes, sizes and purposes.

 

Joanne was sleeping with her husband again as well.  After spending Monday night in their bed, she’d discovered how much she needed to be by Roy’s side during the long dark hours when she worried about John the most.  When her mind was filled with horrific images of what happens to young children who fall into the hands of people intent on doing them harm.  The worst part was the not knowing. She’d heard that said many times in the past, but until this experience, she hadn’t realized that she’d never fully comprehended the heartache and terror parents went through when their child seemingly drops off the face of the earth, never to be heard from or seen again.  Even if they just got a body back…Joanne shuddered at the thought, but even if it were only John’s body that was returned to them, at least they’d know for sure that he wasn’t out there somewhere crying for help. Crying for his mommy or his daddy to come find him.  To rescue him from whatever or whoever was preventing him from getting home.

 

Joanne looked at Roy when she felt a slight squeeze of her hand. 

 

“You okay?”

 

He’d seen her shudder.  Or felt it.  Maybe both, she thought.  She glanced at his plate.

 

“Are you going to finish your eggs?”

 

“Yeah. Sure I am.” He gave her a small smile that was meant to project enthusiasm.  “They’re good.”

 

She could tell he didn’t have any more of an appetite than she did, but he ate the rest of his scrambled eggs, finished his toast, and drained his coffee cup.  Joanne did the same, only because she knew Roy would be upset if she didn’t.  They were alone at the table.  It was a few minutes before seven. Jennifer was still sleeping, and Chris was still staying at Johnny’s.

 

As though he’d read her mind, Roy said, “I’ll call Chris today. Make sure everything’s going all right, and that he’s ready to start school on Monday.”

 

Joanne nodded.  Somehow they’d have to start functioning like a normal family again.  She’d have to start functioning like a normal mother.  The kind of mother who made sure her children had the supplies and clothing they needed for the new school year. The kind of mother who made sure her children ate breakfast before they left the house, and had money for lunch, and that Jennifer was where she needed to be after school – cheerleading practice, band practice, a volleyball match, or work.  Somehow she’d have to face this school year without the extra excitement it was supposed to contain that involved her youngest child, the last child she’d ever have, starting kindergarten.

 

Joanne fought back her tears at the thought of all the “firsts” John would never experience. His first day of school.  The first little girl he’d have a crush on.  The first classroom party for someone’s birthday.  The first time his class made decorations for the windows for Halloween, and then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas. And later, so many firsts beyond that.  Little things to be sure.  Most of them fairly insignificant when you looked back upon them years later, but they were the things that excited a five year old child, and made every day something to look forward to.

 

The woman didn’t allow herself to cry.  Her husband had seen too many tears in recent days.  It was her turn to be strong for him, now that she understood he was just as scared and heartbroken as she was, but simply couldn’t show it in the same way she did.  That by going to work and carrying on with a routine that was as close to normal as possible, he was actually making things easier for Chris and Jennifer; the welfare of his family both financially and emotionally never far from his mind.

 

“When you talk to Chris, tell him if he needs any laundry done to drop it off here. I’ll do it for him.”

 

“Okay, I’ll tell him, but he’s probably washing his clothes at Johnny’s.”

 

“Probably,” Joanne agreed, knowing their oldest son was independent, intelligent, and perfectly capable of looking after himself.  Still, she longed for a boy to take care of, and though Chris was now a young adult, she suddenly felt a strong need to do the kinds of things for him only his mother could get enjoyment from accomplishing.  Like laundry.  Or cleaning the mud from his sneakers.  Or sewing a button on his shirt.

 

“How much longer do you think he’ll stay at Johnny’s?”

 

“I don’t know.  A week or two.  Depends on how well Johnny’s getting around, or how soon Johnny sends him packing.”

 

A slight smile touched Joanne’s lips. “I can’t imagine Johnny ever sending any of our kids packing.”

 

Roy’s smile matched his wife’s. “No, I can’t either. 

 

The patio door was slid open, allowing the couple to hear birds chirping and singing in the quiet of the early morning.  When Joanne spoke again, she said in a hesitant voice, “I…I shouldn’t have said what I did to Johnny yesterday. About Jessie.”

 

“You were upset.”

 

“I know. But I shouldn’t have said it.  I didn’t mean it.  I just…I guess I wanted him to feel the same amount of hurt I do.”

 

“He does, Joanne.”

 

“I know that now. I could see it in his eyes.”  Joanne paused in thought, pushing her plate aside, but never letting go of Roy’s hand.  In a way, she felt like a honeymooner again, suddenly wanting to be close to Roy, physically connected to him, with an intensity that the passing years and a busy family life had caused to wane a bit, as it did with most married couples.  “He got off the freeway because John was thirsty.  I want to be mad at him for that, Roy, but how can I?  How can I stay angry with a man who’s always spoiled my kids, and only wanted to get my little boy a drink?”

 

“You can’t, any more than I can. It’s like Johnny said, Jo.  He had no way of knowing he’d have a flat tire, or encounter two kids out looking for trouble.”

 

“Maybe what he told Detective Salazar will help.”

 

“Maybe,” Roy agreed, though Joanne didn’t think he sounded too hopeful.  The detective called on Wednesday afternoon.  He’d spoken to Roy, letting him know that Johnny had contacted him, and relaying what Johnny said he remembered. 

 

“I knew he was going to call and give you a statement,” Roy told the detective without revealing that it was at a counseling session just that morning where Johnny’s memories of the carjacking had finally come forth. “Will anything he remembers help?”

 

Joanne couldn’t hear the detective’s side of the conversation, but when Roy hung up, he told her that the man hadn’t offered a lot of hope. 

 

“He said they’ve already been concentrating most of their efforts on the area around Nipton, so all Johnny’s statement does is confirm that they’re looking in the right place.  Unless…”

 

“Unless what?”

 

She could tell Roy regretted saying just that one word and didn’t want to reveal the rest of what Detective Salazar had said, but it made no difference. She easily guessed what he’d said, and answered her own question for Roy.

 

“Unless someone found John and took him somewhere else.  Somewhere far away from Nipton, is that it?”

 

Roy’s acknowledgement was soft and subdued.  “Yes.  That’s it.”

 

Joanne had leaned into her husband’s chest then and cried.  The last of her hopes had been pinned on Johnny’s memory of the carjacking returning.  Now that it had, there still wasn’t enough information for the police to locate John. 

 

After they’d eaten supper Wednesday evening and picked Jennifer up from the Tasty Freeze, Roy and Joanne had retreated to their bedroom where they’d laid side-by-side clinging to one another until they’d both fallen into a restless sleep.  It was Joanne who’d awakened before the alarm went off. She’d slipped out of bed without waking Roy just as the sun was coming up, put on her robe, and padded barefoot to the kitchen where she’d made breakfast and had it waiting on the table when Roy arrived showered and dressed for work in his captain’s uniform.

 

Joanne let the subject of Detective Salazar die.  Neither she nor Roy could say anything about the investigation they hadn’t already said.  Neither of them could cry over anything they hadn’t already cried over.  Neither of them could bring John back with promises of, “He’ll be found soon,” when they both knew that most likely he wouldn’t be found.  Or at least not alive.

 

Because Dr. Edwards continuously stressed to Joanne that she couldn’t expect Roy to read her mind, and that she had to clearly state what she was thinking or feeling, the woman cautiously broached the next thing she wanted to talk about.

 

“Roy…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“About Johnny’s birthday…”

 

“What about it?”

 

“I…I just don’t think I’m up to a celebration any time soon.  Not just because it’s Johnny’ birthday, either.  I mean…I hope you understand.  If it was anyone’s birthday – yours, mine, Chris’s, Jen’s – I still wouldn’t be up to a celebration.  It’s less than a week away and--”

 

“I understand.” Roy squeezed her hand. “I do. And so will Johnny.”

 

“But I’m afraid he won’t.  Especially after what I said to him yesterday.  I’m afraid he’ll think it’s because I’m angry with him.  I’m afraid he’ll think I want to put an end to your friendship with him.”

 

“Well don’t be afraid of that.  I’ll explain it to him. Tell him you’re not up to hosting a party right now.  He’ll understand.  I don’t think any of us is up to putting on a party face, including Johnny.”

 

“But it’s his birthday, and he has no family in the area, and--”

 

“How about if I go over to his place on Tuesday?  I can take him out for lunch.  I’ll talk to Chris about it when I call him. Tell him I’ll give him money to pick up a cake and ice cream on his way home from school that he and Johnny can eat that night after supper.”

 

“All right.  That sounds nice.  And I’ll make a pan of lasagna.  You can take it with you and put it in Johnny’s fridge. He and Chris can have it for supper. They both love my lasagna.”

 

“They do, but don’t go to all that trouble.”

 

“It won’t be any trouble.  It’s the least I can do in return for canceling the birthday party.”

 

“I’m not gonna tell Johnny about that until Tuesday.”

 

“No?”

 

Roy shook his head, but didn’t offer further explanation.  Joanne assumed he didn’t want to risk upsetting Johnny by telling him too far ahead of time that the birthday dinner was canceled, even though Roy had just said Johnny would understand, and probably didn’t feel up to attending a gathering in his honor anyway.   But given the situation, it was hard to know for sure how Johnny would take the cancellation, which meant Roy’s plan was probably the best one.  He wouldn’t tell Johnny about it until he went to the ranch on Tuesday, and would try to smooth it over by taking Johnny to lunch. Then Chris would come home from school with cake and ice cream, which they’d eat after they’d had the lasagna Joanne would send, thus smoothing things over even further, and making Johnny realize that the DeSotos hadn’t ignored his birthday, nor were trying to send a message that he was no longer their friend.

 

“When Dr. Edwards stops by on Monday, what day do you want me to tell her we’ll meet with her again?”

 

“Better make it next Thursday since I’m gonna spend some of Tuesday with Johnny.”

 

“Okay.  Do you…do you think Johnny will come to another session?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I hope he does.”

 

“You do?”

 

Joanne nodded.  “I meant it when I said I want you and Johnny to remain friends. I…it’ll be hard though.  For all of us.”

 

“It will be.”

 

“That’s why I want him to come to counseling.  Maybe Dr. Edwards can help all three of us figure out a way to make this work.”

 

“Maybe she can.  If Johnny’s willing.”

 

“You don’t think he will be?”

 

“Like I said, I don’t know.  And like you said, it’ll be hard on a lot of days.  For you.  For me.  For Johnny.  Maybe Johnny put it best when he said we’ll just have to wait and see. That’s not what I want, Jo, but I understand he can’t give me any more of a firm answer about what the future holds for us than I can give him.”  Roy patted her hand and smiled. “So we’ll start slow, with me taking him to lunch on his birthday.  From there, we’ll just have to take it one day at a time.”

 

Joanne stood to collect the dishes. She kissed her husband on his bald spot while keeping her thoughts to herself. One day at a time was how Roy had phrased it.  Like they’d been living ever since John disappeared.  Was this how they were destined to live the rest of their lives?  Shrouded in uncertainty, always known in the neighborhood as the people who’d mysteriously lost a child while on vacation.  A child who would forever remain five years old in everyone’s mind.  Always wondering what had happened to John, and if he’d someday return just as unexpectedly as he’d left.  Was this what the rest of their lives would be like?  Silently centered around a child who was no longer with them, yet would always remain a cherished and beloved member of their family? 

 

It was too sad for Joanne to dwell on. She hurried to the sink with the dishes so Roy wouldn’t see her tears.  When he stood to leave to work, she wiped her eyes with the dishcloth, then turned to face him and smiled.

 

“Going?”

 

“Yeah, I’d better head out in case I get caught in traffic.”

 

Joanne walked with her husband to the front door.  Just like this was the first morning in two weeks that she’d made him breakfast before he left for work, this was also the first morning during that time period that she’d walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye.

 

“Stay safe.”

 

“I will.”

 

The hug Roy gave her lasted longer than a goodbye hug normally did.  Joanne felt his lips brush the top of her head, and one hand rose to cup the side of her face. 

 

“I love you,” he said softly.

 

She leaned into his chest. “I love you too.”

 

They held onto one another a few seconds longer before finally parting.  Joanne watched her husband walk across the lawn to his Porsche. He climbed in, started the engine, and waved before backing out of the driveway.  Joanne stood in the doorway waving in return.  When the car was out of sight, she quietly closed the screen door and latched it.  The morning was already warm, but she didn’t want to close up the house and turn on the air conditioning just yet.  It had felt like a tomb in here for too many days already.  It was good to hear the birds sing, and the sounds of cars passing by the house as various neighbors left for work.

 

The woman turned and headed for the kitchen.  Although she wanted nothing more than to retreat to John’s room now that Roy was gone, she forced herself to start making scrambled eggs for Jennifer.  It was Jenny’s day off.  The previous evening, Joanne had promised Jennifer she’d take her back-to-school shopping today, and then out to eat.  The beds needed to be made before they left, both of the bathrooms needed cleaning, and a stack of bills needed to be paid.  Mundane chores Joanne had no desire to perform, but they were the things “normal” wives and mothers did, and slowly but surely, Joanne knew she had to somehow find the inner strength to return to being one of those normal wives and mothers.  Like Dr. Edwards had kept telling her, if she didn’t start taking an interest in her family again, reconnecting with her husband and children, she’d lose them just as surely as she’d lost John.  She couldn’t hide away forever, or she risked her husband finding comfort in the arms of another woman, and Chris and Jennifer eventually leaving home, only to return on rare occasions because their mother had emotionally removed herself from them the day their little brother went missing. 

 

“Is that what you want, Joanne?” Dr. Edwards had asked.  “Do you want to be in this room, in Little John’s room, all by yourself for the rest of your life?  Shutting out your family? Turning your husband away, and no longer being Mother to the other two children who need you?”

 

There had been many days when Joanne was too emotionally distraught to say anything in response to those questions but “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters as long as John’s gone.”  But of course, it did matter. All of it mattered.  Joanne didn’t want to be left alone to grieve in a little boy’s room until the day she died.  She couldn’t do that to herself, she couldn’t do that to Chris and Jennifer, and most importantly, she couldn’t do it to Roy.

 

Joanne took the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator and started cracking them against the lip of a Pyrex mixing bowl.  It was a mundane chore, but one a “normal” mother did, though probably not when her heart was heavy with grief, and her mind forever on the empty place at the table.

 

Chapter 52

Like Roy and Joanne were doing an hour earlier, John Gage sat at his kitchen table with his patio door slid open.  The breeze filtering through the screen was warm and heavy, indicating the start of another sweltering day.  On last night’s local news, the weatherman said this heat wave might finally lift during the latter part of next week. 

 

“Just as the kids are getting ready to head back to school, Moms and Dads,” he’d added with a cheesy grin, making Johnny certain that every kid in Southern California hated the guy for reminding them that the start of a new school year was on the horizon.

 

Johnny toyed with his half empty glass of orange juice.  What few dishes he and Chris had used for their breakfast that morning – cereal bowls, small plates for toast, a glass for orange juice that belonged to Chris, a coffee mug that was Johnny’s – had been slid to the center of the table.  Johnny had told Chris not to worry about carrying them to the dishwasher.

 

“I’ll take care of everything after you leave. You’d better get goin’ if you’re supposed to meet Bill at nine. 

 

“You sure? It’ll only take me a couple minutes to clear the table.”

 

“I’m sure.  Now go on.”

 

“Okay.  See ya’ sometime between five and six tonight.”

 

“See ya’ then. Have a good day.”

 

“I will. You too, Sport.”

 

Chris headed out the door then, and a few seconds later Johnny heard the Pinto’s engine start.  Johnny remained at the table, in no hurry to have that “good day” Chris wished him. Considering his day wouldn’t consist of much more than putting dishes in the dishwasher, straightening up the house as much as a man with his current physical limitations could, and taking a walk through the barn and to the mailbox, there was no reason to be in any kind of a rush. 

 

Joe ran onto the deck, looking in through the screen at Johnny with his tail wagging.

 

“Hey, boy.  I’ll be out later.”

 

The dog seemed to understand his master, because he turned and trotted down the steps.  On his way to the barn the malamute encountered the old mama cat Chet called Mrs. Gage.  Joe stopped to whack her with one giant paw, and then stuff one of her ears in his mouth.  She hissed, swiped at his nose, squirmed out from beneath him, and shot off with Joe in pursuit.  It was a game the two of them played every morning. Johnny watched until they’d disappeared around the corner of the barn.  They might as well enjoy themselves now because by noon it would be so hot that all they’d want to do was find a shady spot and sleep.

 

As Johnny sat looking out the screen, his mind wandered to the previous day’s counseling session.  He wouldn’t attend another one no matter how many meals Hepzibah Edwards cooked for him.  He wasn’t going to sit there and have Joanne, or anyone else, bring up Jessie, and accuse him of not doing enough to keep her safe.  Or John for that matter.  He’d done all he could for both children.  His returning memory had proven that to him where John was concerned, and he’d spent years working through it where Jessie was concerned.  He wasn’t going to travel that dark road again.  He wasn’t going to sink into a pit of depression again, each day dominated with thoughts of Kim and Jessie; guilt, despair, and self-incrimination hitting him from all directions, causing him to question himself. Causing Johnny to ask himself what kind of a husband and father he’d been since he couldn’t keep his family safe.  It had taken him a long time to make peace with those issues.  To understand and accept that he’d done all he could, and that he’d been a good husband to the wife he’d cherished, and a good father to the baby daughter he’d been crazy over. 

 

None of that meant he didn’t hurt like hell for John, though.  And hurt of Joanne and Roy as well.  It didn’t mean the guilt over having been the last person the boy was with wasn’t gnawing at his insides, because it was.  But his returning memories had at least given Johnny one thing.  The peace of mind that, just like with Kim and Jessie, he’d done all he could for John.  That he’d recognized danger, and some kind of gut instinct told him to get John out of there before Wyatt and Reynolds saw him.  With the way Reynolds had beaten him, Johnny didn’t want to think of the damage the drug crazed kid could have done to John with that tire iron.  John would have tried to come to his defense, and even if Reynolds didn’t mean to harm him, John would have gotten in the way and sustained blows from the tire iron in the same way Johnny had.  A five year old couldn’t have survived that kind of beating.  Therefore, Johnny had no regrets about telling the boy to hide.  What he regretted was getting beaten so badly that he couldn’t be of any help to John.  That he couldn’t retrieve him from his hiding spot.  Johnny had never thought that’s how things would transpire. He’d thought if he stayed calm and reasonable, and gave the boys whatever they wanted – his wallet, his Land Rover – that they’d leave without causing trouble.  But that’s not what happened, and now John was lost to his parents forever, and no matter how many good reasons there were for the decisions Johnny’d made, the fact remained that the tragedy was his fault.  Or at least that’s how Roy and Jo would always look at it even if they didn’t voice it, and Johnny couldn’t blame them for that.  Maybe he’d feel the same way if their positions were reversed.  He probably would, he supposed, because the bottom line was, a child was precious to his parents beyond anything words could describe.

 

Johnny’s mind wandered to the coming weeks and the start of that new school year the weatherman had spoken of.  John wouldn’t be here to begin kindergarten on the same day his sister entered her sophomore year of high school.  Nor would he be here to see Chris off to his first day of college classes on Monday.  Classes Chris didn’t want to attend.  Something he’d confided in no one else but Johnny.  Earlier in the summer, he’d also confided in Johnny that he’d be taking EMT classes at Hartford Tech, and made Johnny promise not to tell Roy.

 

It had gone against Johnny’s better judgment to make such a promise to Chris, but what he was supposed to do?  The teen was at odds with his father over career choices, and without intending to Johnny had gotten swept into the middle of that.  It wasn’t where he wanted to be, that was for sure, but he was “Uncle Johnny” to Roy’s kids, and by virtue of all that encompassed, couldn’t do less than keep Chris’s confidence, while at the same time urging the teenager to sit down and talk with his dad about his lack of interest in attending college, versus his enthusiasm for eventually joining the fire department.  So far, Chris hadn’t taken Johnny’s advice. Given John’s disappearance, he probably wouldn’t any time soon.  Johnny just hoped this series of events wouldn’t eventually breach Roy’s trust in him.  Roy might say he trusted Johnny yet, but the paramedic wasn’t so foolish as to think Roy didn’t possess some doubts in that area.  How could any father in Roy’s position not possess some doubts about his best friend?  His youngest son was gone. His closest friend had been in charge of the boy when that event happened.  How would Roy feel when he found out that same friend knew his oldest son had no desire to attend college, and was already looking into taking the fire department’s entrance exam without Roy’s knowledge? 

 

Johnny ran his right hand through his hair and sighed.  Sometimes being Uncle Johnny brought with it burdens he’d never imagined back when he first met a couple of tow headed youngsters who barely stood taller than his knees.  He’d never trade the special place he held in the hearts of the DeSoto children for anything, yet if he’d had a crystal ball all of those years ago and known that relationship would eventually lead to what he was going through today, he would have never allowed the bond to form.  He’d get John back for Roy and Joanne in a second if someone would allow him to go back in time and sacrifice his relationship with the kids in place of John coming home to his parents.

 

But life only worked like that in the movies.  Johnny would have to go forward as the man Chris had confided his secrets in, and as the man whose actions had caused John DeSoto to lose his life.  No body had been found, and it was likely one never would be, but even so, Johnny was certain the boy was dead.  He couldn’t have survived this long in the desert without help, and if a good Samaritan had found him, that person would have come forward by now. 

 

The guilt swelled inside Johnny, as it did whenever he thought of John.  Before it overwhelmed him, he forced his mind to skip to other things.  He’d made arrangements to hitch a ride with Bob to Rampart again next Wednesday.  He had an appointment with Brackett that morning. Johnny was hoping the doctor would release him to return to “light duty” which would mean he’d be present in his classroom when the next paramedic training session started on September fourth.  Johnny knew he had a few physical therapy sessions ahead of him for his knee, and a few for his arm once the cast was removed, but none of that would prevent him from sitting behind a desk six hours each day and teaching.  If Brackett signed the release form, Johnny would get Bob to go with him to his classroom at Rampart and help him carry his lesson plans to the truck.  Johnny could work on them here at home.  It would give him something to do, and help take his mind off of John. By the time he was teaching again, Chris should be able to return home where he belonged. His parents needed him right now more than Johnny did.  Yes, it was a big help having Chris here considering how difficult it was for Johnny to get around, but each day he was a little stronger, and “cheating” by putting a little more weight on his injured leg.  He knew he wouldn’t be using the crutches much longer.  Once he didn’t need them, then he wouldn’t need help around the house or in the barn either.

 

The phone rang, the jangling bringing Johnny out of his thoughts.  He glanced at the kitchen wall clock as he struggled to stand.  It was ten minutes after eight.  Whoever was calling knew Johnny was an early riser no matter whether he was on duty or not. By the way the person had enough patience to let the phone ring and ring and ring, the caller also knew Johnny didn’t get to the phone with any kind of speed these days.  Charlie Dwyer and Chet called every couple of days to check up on him, so it could be one of them.  Or his father, whom Johnny had finally called on Tuesday to fill him in on what had happened during what was supposed to be a fun-filled vacation.

 

Johnny wasn’t sure if the phone was ringing for the fourteenth time, or the fifteenth, when he finally reached it.  His crutches were still by the table, so he leaned against the wall as he picked up the receiver.

 

“Hello?”

 

The quiet voice on the other end of the line sounded a little surprised at the identity of the person who’d picked up the phone.

 

“Oh…hi, Johnny.  Sorry for making you get to the phone. I thought Chris would answer it.”

 

“He already left for work.”

 

“He did?”

 

“Yeah. About ten minutes ago. You need me to give him a message?”

 

“Uh…well, yeah.  If you see him, tell him to give me a call here at the station.  I’ll try to call Bill’s place too.  Maybe I’ll catch him there before they go wherever it is they’re working today.”

 

“You probably won’t. Chris is supposed to meet him at some office complex at nine.  Said he’d be home between five and six.  You want me to have him call you then if you haven’t gotten in touch with him yet?”

 

“Yeah, please do that.  I wanna touch base with him about school and a…few other things.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The conversation was nothing like the ones Johnny and Roy normally had when they talked by phone. Stilted. Subdued. Uncomfortable.  And now filled by a long pause that Roy finally broke.

 

“Listen, Johnny, about what Jo said in Dr. Edwards’ office yesterday…”

 

“What about it?”

 

“She didn’t mean it.  She’ll probably tell you that herself the next time she sees you.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“No it’s not.  She shouldn’t have said it.”

 

“That’s what counseling sessions are for. To say what’s on your mind.”

 

“Even so--”

 

“Just forget it, Roy.  It…in the big scheme of things lately, it doesn’t matter.”

 

Johnny could hear the sorrow in Roy’s voice, as though the man could feel their friendship slipping away just as easily as Johnny felt it.

 

“Johnny, how about if I drive out to your place after I get off duty tomorrow.  I’ll take you out for break--”

 

“No. No, tomorrow won’t be good. Besides, Joanne needs you to be home with her.  Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to get off the phone.  I left my crutches by the table, and it’s hard standin’ here without ‘em.  I’ll give Chris your message and make sure he gives you a call.”

 

“Johnny--”

 

“Talk to you later, partn…Roy.  Thanks for callin’.”

 

Johnny hung up the phone before Roy had a chance to say anything else.  It hurt, but it was better this way.  Easier on all of them.  No need for some hearts and flowers goodbye, or a blow up where angry words were said that everyone would regret an hour later.  Might as well end the friendship fast and clean, rather than drawn out and messy.    It’s not what Johnny wanted.  God, it’s not what he wanted at all.  But he also didn’t want to know that every time his best friend looked at him, all he saw was the man responsible for his youngest child’s disappearance. 

 

Johnny looked at the dishes on the table. He limped toward them, using the counter for support.  Without realizing it, his thoughts were the same as Joanne’s.  He had to begin doing the “normal” things that made up his every day life again, even though deep inside he was crying over the loss of the auburn headed child he’d called “Little Pally,” and the part he’d played in the boy’s disappearance. 

           

Chapter 53

Thursday proved to be anything but “normal” for Farley and Rudy. Or at least not like any Thursday they’d ever experienced before, since they’d never coached a five-year-old boy about what to say when his parents and the police asked where he’d been, who’d taken care of him, and how he’d gotten home.

 

Farley was in Nipton by seven thirty that morning.  He ate breakfast at Gwen and Dale’s hotel, shot the bull for a few minutes with the various people coming in and out because everyone would notice if he didn’t, and then headed to Kip’s.  Because the nearest car wash was an hour away, Kip allowed local residents to use his power washer for a dollar.  The high-pressure hose did a good job of getting the dust off of Farley’s truck.  When the Ford was glinting in the morning sun as though it had just come off a new car lot, Farley drove it around to the front of the station and filled both of its tanks with gas.  He didn’t want Rudy to have to stop for gas on Friday.  If Farley had figured the mileage correctly, Rudy would arrive back in Nipton with a quarter of a tank of gas to spare.  One way, the trip was about two hundred and forty miles.  It would be a long day for Rudy.  Farley wished his friend would let him ride along, but he knew there was no use to argue with Rudy about it. The stubborn old mule would just stand his ground.

           

Farley was at Rudy’s house a few minutes before nine.  He pulled up to the front door with the passenger side of the truck facing it, so Rudy could hurry John out of the house and into the vehicle with as little chance of the boy being seen as possible.  As was typical, Rudy’s road was desolate making Farley’s caution unnecessary, but still, it made him feel better.  There seemed to be more cops traveling the roads this morning than Farley had seen since the first week the boy disappeared. He wondered what was going on.  Was this a last ditch effort to find the kid, or had some new information come in that led the sheriff’s office to believe John was somewhere in the Nipton area?  Either way, it made Farley nervous.  He’d be glad when this was over, and Rudy was back home without the kid in his possession.

 

 John rode on the floor at Rudy’s feet again.  Unlike Wednesday, the boy wasn’t crying.  Instead, he chattered on and on about going home and seeing his mom and dad again, and his brother and sister, and his grandmother, and his uncle Johnny, and his aunt Eileen, and his friend Kyle, and about a hundred other people Farley couldn’t keep track of.          

 

When they arrived at Farley’s house, Farley took the same precaution he had at Rudy’s.  He pulled the passenger side of the truck as close to his front porch as possible.  Rudy rushed John inside with Farley following.  The miner led the way to his kitchen.  John held Rudy’s right hand, but stopped the men’s progress when he turned and pointed to the Motorola.

 

“Can I watch TV?”

 

“If yer good and learn everything me and Rudy are gonna teach ya’, then yeah, after we’re done you can watch TV.”

 

“Teach me?”

 

“Uh huh.  Now come on, sit down at the table.  We’ll do some learnin’ for a while, then take us a break for cookies and milk.”

 

The boy sat on his knees on the chair between Rudy and Farley.  “Is this like kindergarten?  My mom says I’ll get a cookie and milk break in kindergarten.”

 

“That’s right,” Farley said.  “This is like kindergarten, ain’t it, Rudy.”

 

“Don’t know. Never went to kindergarten.”

 

“How could you notta gone to kindergarten?”

 

“Easy.  Back when I was Katori’s age, the school I went to didn’t have one. Went right to first grade without ever goin’ to kindergarten.  And I bet you never went to kindergarten either. You went to that old one room schoolhouse that used to be on the south end a’ town. I never heard of any one room schoolhouse that held kindergarten.”

 

“I never said I went to kindergarten, but I’ve seen it on TV so I know what it’s like.”  The “teacher” returned his attention to his young pupil.  “Never mind him, John.  Take it from me, this is gonna be like kindergarten.”

 

“Are we gonna color?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Are we gonna have recess?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Are we gonna finger paint?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Then it doesn’t sound much like kindergarten to me.”

 

Rudy laughed at Farley’s scowl, and then laughed again when Farley grumbled at him, “Oh shut up.”

 

Farley looked at John and counted off one by one on his fingers.

 

“This kindergarten only has four things. Lessons.  Cookies and milk.  More Lessons.  Then TV.  How’s that sound to ya’?”

 

“Okay, I guess. But are the lessons hard?  Will I flunk?”

 

“Nah, ya’ won’t flunk, ‘cause you’re one right smart kid.”

 

“Uncle Johnny says I am.”

 

“Well see there. Then you must be if Uncle Johnny says so.  Now listen up.  Here’s the first question.  After Rudy takes ya’ home tomorrow, if someone asks you where you’ve been, what are ya’ gonna say?”

 

“Staying with Rudy in the desert.”

 

Rudy groaned while Farley scolded, “No no no.  Ya’ can’t say that.”

 

The boy thought a moment.  “Okay.  I’ll say I was stayin’ with Cloud Jumper in the desert, and that sometimes we went to his friend Farley’s house.”

 

“No no.  Ya’ can’t say that either.”

 

“Then what can I say?”

 

Rudy cut in with, “Some teacher you’ve turned out to be.”

 

“Look, if ya’ gotta a better idea, then how about layin’ it on me?”

 

“You gotta give him them options you were talking about yesterday, Farl.  Give him some alternatives. Some other things he can say.”

 

“Okay okay.  I got ya’.”  Farley looked at John.  “John, now ya’ know Rudy never hurt ya’, right?”

 

“ ‘Course he didn’t hurt me. Rudy’s my friend.”

 

“That’s right, he is, isn’t he.”

 

“Sure.”

 

“And ya’ wouldn’t want a friend ta’ git in trouble, now would ya’?”

 

“No. But why would Rudy get in trouble?”

 

“Well see here, he might get in trouble…in big trouble with the police, for not taking you back to yer mom and dad’s house before now.  But see, Rudy don’t have no TV like me, and he doesn’t have a telephone or a radio, and he don’t go many places, so he didn’t know who you were or how to get you back home.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Uh huh, ‘cause I wouldn’t tell him any of those things.  I was waiting for Uncle Johnny to come get me, so I couldn’t tell Rudy who I was. Uncle Johnny said I was supposed to hide, and Rudy’s house turned out to be a great place to hide.  And besides, at first I thought Rudy might be a bad guy, so I didn’t want him to know my name. But after I was with him for a while I knew he wasn’t.”

 

“No, Rudy isn’t a bad guy, that’s for sure.  And it’d be a darn shame if he got in trouble for takin’ such good care a’ ya, now wouldn’t it?”

 

“I don’t want Rudy to get in trouble. I’ll tell the police that I wouldn’t tell him who I was, then maybe he won’t get in trouble, uh, Farley?”

 

Farley rubbed a hand across his whiskers as though in deep thought. “Well now, maybe that would work, but ya’ know what I think would work better?”

 

“What?”

 

Farley leaned close to the boy like he was sharing a big secret.  “If you don’t tell them anything about Rudy at all.  Or me either.”

 

“Then what am I suppos’ to say when my mom asks me where I’ve been? I’m a lot farther away than Kyle’s house, and that’s as far as I’m allowed to go until I’m seven.”

 

“How about if ya’ say that ya’ don’t know where ya’ were?  Don’t say anything ‘bout the desert. When yer folks or the police ask where ya’ been, ya’ say, ‘I don’t know.’”

 

“I don’t know?”

 

“That’s right, only not like it’s a question.  Just shrug yer shoulders and say, ‘I dunno,’ real casual like.”

 

John mimicked Farley. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to copy the blank expression he saw on the old man’s face.  “I dunno.”

 

“Farley, that ain’t gonna work.  They’ll be able to tell that Katori’s been fed and taken care of.”

 

“Just keep yer britches on. I’m gettin’ to that part.”  The miner looked at John again.  “Now, John, if they ask ya’ where ya’ got food and water, say ya’ came across a house that wasn’t locked and walked inside.  Say nobody was home, and that you ate food you found in the kitchen.”

 

John’s eyes grew wide. “Would that be like stealing?”

 

“Not at all. Wouldn’t be nothin’ like stealin’.  It’d mean ya’ took care of yerself the best way ya’ could until ya’ got back to yer folks’ house.”

 

Rudy shot his friend a skeptical glance. “Are you sure the cops are gonna believe a story like that?”

 

“Sure I’m sure.  Even though John ain’t gonna say nothin’ about the desert…isn’t that right, John?”

 

“Right.” The boy ran two fingers across his lips.  “I’ll zip my lips closed like Jennifer tells me to do sometimes, and I won’t say anything about the desert.  Nothing about sand. Or rock hounding with Rudy. Or cactuses. Or that it gets to be about a thousand degrees in Rudy’s house sometimes.”

 

“So see, even though he ain’t gonna mention the desert, the cops’ll probably assume he didn’t travel too far from his uncle’s truck.  You know as well as I do that lotsa folks ‘round here don’t lock their doors.  Not even when they go away for weeks at a time.  It’s possible that a kid could come across an unlocked house and hole up there for a while.  The cops’ll know that.”

 

Rudy mulled Farley’s answer over, then gave a reluctant nod of his head. “Guess that’s about as likely as anything.”

 

“See there, it’s not a bad idea at all.” 

 

“But what’s he supposed to say when they ask him how he got home?”

 

John’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm.  “I know!  I’ll say I walked!”

 

Farley chuckled. “Well young feller, that’s real smart of ya’, but I don’t think yer parents or the police would believe ya’.”  Farley thought again, silence lingering in the room until he came up with an answer the child could use.  “How ‘bout this?  You met a nice old lady, told her who you were, and she gave you a ride home in a great big blue car.”

 

“But Rudy’s a nice old man, not a nice old lady.  And he said I was gonna ride home in your truck, Farley, not a car.”

 

“I know all that, but see, this is still part of our lessons. Remember ya’ said ya’ don’t want Rudy to git in no trouble.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Then ya’ want to tell the police somethin’ that’s the opposite of what really happened.”

 

“Opposite?”

 

“Different.  That’s why ya’ gotta tell ‘em some nice old lady drove ya’ home in a big blue car.”

 

“Okay.  What’s her name?”

 

“Whose name?”

 

“The nice old lady that’s driving me home.”

 

“Ain’t no nice old lady driving you home. Rudy’s driving you home.”

 

“I know that. But if the police ask me what the pretend lady’s name is, I gotta tell ‘em something.”

 

“Oh.  Oh, I reckon ya’ do.  Well…well tell ‘em she said her name was…” Farley glanced around the kitchen until his eyes landed on a box setting in his lazy Susan on top of the refrigerator. “That she said her name was Mrs. Quaker.”

 

“Mrs. Quaker?”

 

“Yeah. Can you remember that?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“We’ll practice it until you do.”

 

 “Okay. Can I have some cookies and milk now?”

 

“I reckon so.  Ya’ learned yer lessons real good.  But when yer done eatin’, we’re gonna go over ‘em again, all right?”

 

John nodded. “All right.  Boy, I hope kindergarten isn’t this hard.”

 

Farley patted the boy’s head as he stood.  “Well if it is, you’ll be ready for it thanks to me and Rudy, huh?”

 

“I sure will be.”

 

The two men stood.  Rudy poured three glasses of milk while Farley piled Chips Ahoy cookies on a plate.  Even Rudy consented to eating two of them as the trio took a break from John’s “lessons.”

 

When the lessons resumed, they got off to a rocky start, with John saying all the wrong things about a desert, and Rudy, and Cloud Jumper, and Cloud Jumper’s friend Farley, and a pickup truck.  That’s when Farley and Rudy realized they had a long day ahead of them helping John memorize the correct answers. It wasn’t until after Farley cooked a frozen pizza for lunch and John was allowed to watch TV for an hour, that the men finally gained some confidence the child just might pull this off.  By four o’clock, John was rattling off his answers as though he was an actor who’d just learned his lines for a movie. The only time they still hit a rough patch was when he had to remember the name of the woman who gave him a ride.  Like Farley had done, he’d glance up at the top of the refrigerator for a hint.  It wasn’t until Rudy finally stood and hid the bottle of maple syrup that they broke the boy of the habit of saying, “Aunt Jemima.”  Farley tried to help him out by coaching, “Think oatmeal, John. Think oatmeal.”

 

“Mrs. Oatmeal?”

 

“No. Mrs. Quaker. Mrs. Quaker like in Quaker’s Oatmeal.”

 

“Got it. Mrs. Quaker.”

 

“And how did Mrs. Quaker find you?”

 

John supplied the answer Farley had come up with during their afternoon lessons.

 

“I stayed in that house where no one was home, eatin’ their food and usin’ their bathroom and watchin’ their TV, until I couldn’t wait any more for Uncle Johnny to come find me.  I left it and started walking, and a nice old lady in a big blue car stopped and asked me if I needed a ride.  I told her my name, and where I lived, and she brought me home.”

 

“And what was the lady’s name?”

 

“Mrs. Quaker.”

 

“Yeah!  Yeah, that’s right!”  Farley tousled the boy’s hair, then leaned back in his chair and gave a heavy sigh. “You got it, John. You got it right.”

 

John thrust his arms in the air like a football player who’d just scored a goal. “Yay!  I got it right!” He looked at Rudy.  “Did you hear that, Cloud Jumper?  I got it right.”

 

Rudy’s response was a quiet, “You sure did, Katori.”

 

“And ‘cause ya’ got it right, you can go watch some more TV.  Rudy and me’ll make supper.  After we eat, we’ll go over everything one last time ‘fore I take you and Rudy home.”

 

“Okay!” 

 

John hopped off of his chair and scampered for the living room.  As the two men began moving around the kitchen in order to get the table set and supper cooked, Farley said, “Don’t you go changin’ yer mind now.”

 

“Changin’ my mind about what?”

 

“Takin’ the boy home tomorrow.”

 

“I never said anything about changin’ my mind.”

 

“I know ya’ didn’t, but I could hear it in yer voice just now when ya’ told him he got his lessons right.  Ya’ sounded sad.”

 

“Oh get your hearing aid checked, ya’ ole’ fart.  I didn’t sound sad.”

 

“I ain’t got me no hearing aid ‘cause there’s nothin’ wrong with my hearing.  I know how you sounded, and I’m just sayin’--”

 

“Well don’t say nothin’.  Just cook supper.  I told you I haven’t changed my mind, and I won’t.  I’m takin’ Katori home tomorrow just like we planned.”

 

“Good, ‘cause that’s where he belongs, Rudy. Back with his family.  Not living with a couple ole’ desert rats like us.”

 

“I know.”

 

I hope you do, was the thought Farley didn’t voice as he took hamburger patties out of his refrigerator and put them in a frying pan.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Like the previous evening, Farley waited until after dark before taking Rudy and John back to Rudy’s house.  Not only did that give him the opportunity to go over John’s lessons with the boy a couple of more times, it also made Farley breathe easier where cops were concerned.  He knew that once it got dark, there wouldn’t be as many cops on the roads, and anyone searching for the boy by foot or air would have quit when the sun set. 

 

Just one more day.  We just gotta get through one more day, and this mess Rudy got hisself into will be over with.

 

Farley wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on the fact that the “one more day” he was thinking of would be the riskiest day of all for Rudy.  Either Rudy would return safely to Nipton, or he’d end up in jail. Farley couldn’t predict which it would be, and he could tell by the tension he saw on his friend’s face in the shadows cast by the dashboard lights, that Rudy was having the same thoughts.

 

John was sleeping by the time they arrived at Rudy’s house.  Rudy climbed out of the truck and picked the boy up from the seat, where he’d been laying with his head in Rudy’s lap. 

 

“Now don’t ferget to pick up any toys and put ‘em away.”

 

“Already did that this morning.”

 

“And make sure he’s dressed in the clothes he was wearin’ when he showed up.”

 

“Already got ‘em layin’ on my bureau.”

 

“And make sure first thing tomorrow mornin’ that ya’ throw everything away ya’ bought him and then give me your garbage.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Put the clothes in a separate bag and I’ll burn it as soon as yer on the road.”

 

“I will.”

 

“I put the map in the glove box already.  Ya’ sure ya’ got the directions memorized?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“We can go over ‘em again tomorrow mornin’ as we drive to my place.”

 

“Farl, I’ve got ‘em memorized.”

 

“And I’ve got a hat and sunglasses for you. And a hat for John too.  I’ll give ‘em to ya’ before ya’ leave. And don’t forget to pack something for him to eat and drink.  And if you pull in a rest stop, remember to stay away from the visitors’ center.  There should be an outside entrance to the bath--”

 

“Farley, calm down. It’ll be all right. Everything’s gonna turn out okay.”

 

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, ya’ ole’ fool. If anything goes wrong and you git caught--”

 

“If that happens, I’ll have to accept it.”

 

“Well I’ll be sittin’ right by my phone until you git back.  If the cops do catch ya’, don’t say a word. Not one word.  Yer entitled to a phone call.  Call me, and I’ll git right on the phone to Vern and Wil.  They got some crackerjack lawyers they do business with when they need legal stuff tended to.  I’ll get one a’ those guys hired for ya’.  Don’t open yer trap until ya’ have a lawyer with ya’.”

 

“Is that really necessary?”

 

“Look, Rudy, whether ya’ wanna believe it or not, I know some things you don’t.  Yeah, it’s necessary. Now promise me.  If ya’ git caught, don’t say a word, and call me as soon as they let you use a phone.”

 

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

 

When Farley couldn’t think of anything else to tell his friend, he said, “Guess I better git back home.  See ya’ at seven thirty.  Maybe a little before even.  ‘Bout seven-fifteen.”

 

“We’ll be ready and waitin’ for you.”

 

“Good, ‘cause I want you headed to Carson before eight.”

 

“All right.  ‘Night.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

Farley watched his friend carry John into the house. Once again, he waited until the living room light came on before pulling out of Rudy’s driveway.  He had no idea why he was going home, because all he was going to do was sit up all night and worry about everything that could go wrong tomorrow, but home was where he went.  Johnny Carson and the late movie that followed his show had gotten Farley through sleepless nights in the past, and he supposed Carson and an old black and white movie would somehow get him through this one.

 

Chapter 54

As had been “normal” for Roy ever since John disappeared, he was moving about Station 26 before the wake up tones went off.  By the time his men staggered into the kitchen a few minutes after seven, Roy had the coffee made and the remainder of a box of doughnuts from the previous morning setting on the table.  Roy greeted his crew, then took a doughnut and his coffee mug to his office so he could straighten things up before the next shift reported for duty at eight.

 

It had been an uneventful twenty-four hours, giving Roy more time than he wanted to think about his missing child, his heartbroken wife, and the best friend who was distancing himself from Roy. 

 

Like Johnny promised he would, he’d told Chris to call his father on Thursday evening. Roy had taken the call in his office at seven-thirty.  He confirmed with Chris that he was ready to start classes at USC on Monday, and that he had everything he needed in the way of supplies and clothing.

 

“Yeah, Dad, I’ve got all that. Blue jeans, t-shirts, a few notebooks, and a pen about covers it for a college student who’ll be commuting from home.”

 

“All right. But if you need anything else after classes start, let me know.  I’ll be happy to pick it up for you, or give you the money for it.”

 

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got it covered.”

 

Roy didn’t think his son sounded too excited about this pending first year of college, but considering what they were going through in regards to John, it was understandable that Chris’s thoughts were elsewhere.

 

“Oh, before I forget, Mom wanted me to tell you to drop off any laundry you’d like her to wash for you.”

 

“Mom said that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So she’s…she’s doing better?”

 

“She is. She’s trying hard to be a…a part of things again. Why don’t you call her and say hi.  I know she’d love to hear from you.”

 

For the first time since the conversation began, Roy heard some enthusiasm in his oldest son’s voice.  “Okay, I’ll do that in a few minutes.”

 

“And listen, one more thing.  Would you stop at a store on your way home from school Tuesday and pick up a birthday cake and ice cream for Johnny?  I’ll pay you back.”

 

“Sure, but why?  Aren’t things good between…”

 

The way Chris let his sentence trail off led Roy to believe that his son didn’t want to risk being overheard by Johnny. 

 

“Your mother and I agree that having a celebration right now for any reason is going to be difficult on everyone.  I’ll surprise Johnny on Tuesday and stop by to take him out for lunch.  Mom’s sending a pan of lasagna with me for you guys to have that evening. I thought you could round it out with cake and ice cream.”

 

“All right. Sounds good to me.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem, Dad.”

“I know it might be hard for you to talk right now without being overheard, but…uh…how’s Johnny seem?”

 

“Seem?”

 

“His mood.”

 

“Kinda quiet.  Real quiet actually.  But otherwise, okay I guess.”  Chris lowered his voice to just above a whisper.  “Dad, are things all right between you and Uncle Johnny?”

 

Roy hesitated, because he honestly didn’t know how to answer his son.  He finally said, “Things are tough for all of us right now, Chris.  It’s just gonna take some time.”

 

Roy knew his answer sounded vague, but Chris didn’t pressure him for more information.  Instead, he said with sorrow that Roy hated to hear, “Yeah, I know.  It’s gonna take all of us some time.”  Then Chris brightened just a bit when he ended the conversation by saying, “I’d better call Mom.  Did you need anything else?”

 

“No.  Go ahead and call your mother.  Talk to you later.”

 

“Yeah, talk to you later.  You’re off this weekend, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“I’ll stop by the house sometime on Sunday.  Maybe see if Uncle Johnny wants to come along, if that’s okay with you.”

 

“That’s okay with me, but if he doesn’t wanna come, don’t give him a hassle over it.”

 

“Dad…Dad, are you sure things are okay between the two of you?”

“Things are fine,” Roy assured, though he knew Chris detected otherwise.  They said goodbye then, and Roy returned to the day room where he tried to concentrate on the TV show his crew was watching until it was time for lights out.

 

Roy sighed as he put away papers and his logbook, and left a memo from headquarters on the center of the desk for the C-shift captain.  He finished his coffee, but threw away the doughnut after taking just one bite.  Like all food lately, it had little taste, and held little interest to him.  He’d needed to drop the ten pounds he’d lost since this ordeal began, but he would have chosen any diet in the world other than the one that involved stress, worry, and heartache over a missing child.

 

The captain mentally reviewed the upcoming day.  Jennifer had to be at work shortly before the Tasty Freeze opened at eleven a.m., meaning Roy and Joanne would have the rest of the day alone.  Maybe Jo would agree to go to a movie, and then out to eat afterwards.  Or maybe they’d just take a drive somewhere, and stop some place for supper they’d never been to before.  Anything to get them out of the house for a while.  Anything to continue building on the way they’d begun coming together this week as husband and wife in an effort to learn how to live without John. 

 

Roy squeezed his eyes closed to keep his tears from falling at the thought of his youngest child.  He didn’t want to learn how to live without John, but he’d lost all hope that his son would come back to them healthy and whole.  Before Roy could dwell on that thought, the tones sounded.

 

“Station 26.  Station 51.  Station 18.  Squad 36.  Report of a fully involved fire at Vine Ridge Apartment Complex.  2287 North Anita Drive.  2287 North Anita Drive. Time Out: 7:24.”

 

Roy was at the mic in the apparatus bay by the time the call ended.  He passed the slip of paper he’d scrawled the address on to his engineer as he acknowledged to the dispatcher,  “Station 26.  KMG 483.”

 

He turned and ran for the passenger side of the engine, finally getting that call he needed to take his mind off his worries.

 

Chapter 55

“How much longer before we’re there, Rudy?”

 

Rudy glanced down at the boy sitting on the passenger side floor.

 

“Not much.”

 

“You’ve been saying that forever.”

 

Rudy smiled.  “Well this time I mean it.”  He was on 110 South, just three miles from the Carson Street exit according to the sign he’d seen.   He glanced at the dashboard clock.  Ten minutes to twelve.  So far, all was going according to plan.

 

Farley had arrived at Rudy’s house at seven-fifteen that morning. By seven twenty-five, they were headed back to Farley’s to drop the man off.  By quarter to eight, Rudy was traveling Nipton Road, headed for the I-15 on ramp ten miles away.  He’d passed off his garbage to Farley, along with a bag containing the clothes and Pirates baseball cap he’d bought John.  No evidence of the boy was left in Rudy’s house.  As much as Rudy thought of keeping one of the Matchbox cars as a reminder of the young visitor he’d grown so fond of, he knew it would be a foolish action.  Better off to cherish the memory of the boy who’d called himself Katori – He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes – while getting rid of anything that might incriminate Rudy as a kidnapper. 

 

Rudy left his front door open upon Farley’s advice so anyone passing by, like Fred Hucklesmith, would think Rudy was home.  Rudy’s Buick was in the driveway too, further enhancing the illusion that he was in the house, or somewhere nearby in the desert rock hounding.  Although Rudy wouldn’t admit it to Farley, he didn’t know what he would have done without his best friend’s help and advice.  It was Farley who’d told him not to braid his hair, and who helped him tuck it into his blue cotton work shirt, then handed him a pair of sunglasses and a blue baseball cap that bore no logo.  Farley put a red baseball cap on John’s head, also without a logo.  When Rudy asked Farley where he’d gotten the caps from, the old man said, “Vern’s son Tim is always givin’ ‘em to me.  Must think an old geezer who lives out in the desert needs to keep his head covered twenty-four hours a day.  I got an entire closet shelf filled with ‘em.  Always wondered if they’d ever git put to good use, and now at least a couple of ‘em have.”

 

 Their goodbyes outside Farley’s house were quick that morning.  John hugged the old miner and promised that he’d remember his “lessons” so neither Farley nor Rudy would get in trouble.  After John climbed back into the truck and got on the floor, Rudy did something he’d never done before.  He hugged Farley too and said, “Thanks for everything.”

 

“Oh go on with ya’.  Don’t be gettin’ all sentimental on me, ya’ ole’ goat.” 

 

Despite his words, Farley returned the hug, then added, “Whatever you do, be careful.”

 

“I will be.”

 

“I’ll be givin’ myself an ulcer ‘til ya’ get back.”

 

“I know.  But don’t worry.  I’ll be okay.”

 

Rudy got in the truck then, because any delay meant he’d arrive in Carson that much later, which in turn could cause this plan of Farley’s to end in disaster.

 

With a wave goodbye, Rudy pulled out of Farley’s driveway.  By the time he’d driven the ten miles to I-15, John was asleep.  That didn’t surprise Rudy.  The boy had woken up shortly after Farley dropped them off at home the previous evening, and then was too wound up about today’s trip to fall back to sleep.  It was after three in the morning before he finally gave into slumber at the foot of Rudy’s bed.  Rudy slept fitfully after that, and had finally gotten up at five so he’d be ready when Farley arrived.  He let John sleep until six, then got him up so the boy could dress and eat breakfast.  In the end, John’s sleepless night had worked out for the best.  He slept the first two hours of the trip away, tucked into a corner of the Ford’s floor with his head resting against the edge of the passenger seat as though it were a pillow.

 

Rudy made good time that morning, but was careful to watch his speed.  He kept it between sixty-five and seventy – the same speed everyone else seemed to have settled on.  He didn’t want to get caught by a cop for speeding, but he also didn’t want to be one of those annoying elderly drivers who insisted on driving forty miles an hour on a freeway, thereby drawing everyone’s attention.  He just wanted to be anonymous.  A driver who obeyed the laws and that no one paid attention to.

 

When John woke up, Rudy could have predicted the first thing the boy said.

 

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Rudy.”

 

It was the one thing about this trip Rudy had dreaded most. 

 

“I’ll find a place to stop as soon as I can,” he promised the boy.  He watched the signs, and seven miles later exited into a rest stop filled with trucks, station wagons, vans, and cars of every make and model.  He remembered Farley’s warning about staying out of the visitors’ center, which Farley said would have at least two employees working behind a counter selling maps, souvenirs, answering questions about area tourist attractions, and giving directions.  Farley also warned Rudy to keep John away from women.

 

“Women are observant.  ‘Specially when it comes to kids.  Steer clear of any of ‘em.”

 

Rudy parked the truck on the far end of the lot beside a row of 18-wheelers so it was blocked from almost everyone’s view.  He told John to stay on the floor, then exited the vehicle, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door.  He surveyed the area before letting the boy get out.  No one was watching them. He made sure the bill of the red baseball cap was low on John’s forehead, then took the boy by the hand.

 

“Look at the ground, Katori, just like you do when we’re rock hounding.  And maybe skip, like you’re having a good time.”

 

“I am having a good time ‘cause I’m going home.”

 

“Good.  Now look down.  And remember what Farley said.  If you gotta call me by name, or if anyone asks who I am, I’m Grandpa.”

 

“Okay, Grandpa.”

 

The boy giggled at his own words, but did just as Rudy said.  He looked at the ground while holding onto Rudy’s hand and skipping.  Rudy saw four truckers walking out from behind the building, so assumed he’d find the outside entrance to the men’s room there.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the men passed him and John without glancing their way.  They were talking about something called Smokeys, and where the next weigh station was, and what route they’d have to take to get around it in order to not have their overloaded trucks weighed, and where they’d stop for lunch.  Right before Rudy got John to the door, another trucker came out, but he barely glanced their way either; too intent on getting his cigarette lit while he walked.

 

The men’s room was empty when the pair entered.  Nonetheless, Rudy made John use a stall, rather than stand at a urinal.  Rudy made use of one himself.  He wanted this to be his only stop between now and when he returned to Farley’s house.  He hurried the boy through washing his hands, then reminded him about looking down once again as they left the building.  A harried looking man trying to keep track of five young boys was entering the restroom as Rudy and John exited. 

 

“You’re lucky you only have one,” he said to Rudy as he grabbed one boy by the arm and the other by the collar before they could run off toward the picnic area.

 

“Yeah, sure am,” Rudy mumbled, glad his sunglasses were firmly in place and his hair was hidden beneath the cap and his shirt.

 

He almost had a stroke when John looked up at the man and said, “I’m taking a trip with my grandpa.”

 

Fortunately, the man was too busy herding his unruly brood to the urinals to do more than smile over his shoulder and say, “Have fun on your trip.”

 

“I will!”

 

Rudy pulled John along, reminding him again to keep his eyes on the ground and to skip.  He got the boy back to the Ford without anyone seeming to notice them.  Less than ten minutes after they pulled into the rest stop, Rudy was driving the truck back onto the freeway. 

 

They ate an early lunch then. Rudy figured it was a good way to keep John occupied for a while now that he was awake.  He drove with one hand while pulling peanut butter sandwiches, apples, and boxes of Cracker Jack out of a brown paper bag he had setting on the passenger seat.  Pouring lemonade from his Thermos into cups as he drove proved to be a little harder, but Rudy managed to do it without spilling any.  Having something to eat kept John on the floor without complaint. It was when the boy was finished that he started asking how soon he’d be home.  Rudy couldn’t blame him for his impatience.  Four hours of riding on the floor of a truck without anything to do was a lot to ask of a five year old.  Rudy hadn’t dared bring any toys with him to keep John entertained, and had even decided against bringing paper or pencils for the youngster to use to draw pictures.  Like Farley had emphasized, there couldn’t be any evidence of John in Rudy’s house, or in the pickup truck.  Therefore, the final miles toward Carson proved to be a rough hour and a half for the boy, and for Rudy too, especially whenever he’d encounter CHPS out on patrol, but somehow they made it through without John getting off the floor, and without Rudy chickening out, turning the truck around, and heading back to Nipton.

 

As Rudy got off I-110 at the Carson Street exit, he said, “Okay now, you can get up in the seat.  But keep your cap on, and remember what I said earlier. Sit real low so no one notices you.”

 

“But I gotta peek out the window and tell you where my street is, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

Rudy’s hands gripped the steering wheel as his throat went dry.  So much could go wrong now that they were in Carson.  Somebody could recognize the boy.  John might not be able to direct Rudy to his house.  Rudy might get lost traveling the residential streets that all looked the same to him as he glanced down them from the four-lane thoroughfare they were traveling.  Of course, Farley had a backup plan if any of this proved to be the case. He’d said to drop John off at a McDonald’s, or some other public place in Carson, instruct him to go inside and tell someone his name, and that he was the missing boy they’d been hearing so much about, and that he wanted someone to call his father, Roy DeSoto. 

 

“And you get the hell outta there while he’s doin’ all that,” was Farley’s last order.

 

Rudy’s eyes shifted back and forth between the highway and the truck’s odometer.  Despite the air conditioner running on high, sweat pooled beneath his baseball cap when they’d traveled four miles and John still hadn’t recognized his street.

 

“Are you sure we didn’t pass it?”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“Well keep watching.  You said it was by the school where you’re gonna attend kindergarten, remember?”

“I know, but I haven’t seen the school yet.”

 

When Rudy lived in this area, Carson was an unincorporated part of Los Angeles.  He’d passed through it a few times with his father, but a lot had changed in forty years, just like Farley predicted would be the case.  Carson was now a city with a population of 75,326, according to a sign Rudy’d seen upon exiting the freeway.  He wondered how many schools the city held, and if John would really be able to identify the one he was going to attend.  And what if it wasn’t on the main thoroughfare?  What if it was off somewhere on one of the residential streets?  Rudy didn’t know if he should risk driving up and down those streets aimlessly, or if now was the time to consider dropping John off at the McDonald’s they’d just passed.  Rudy drove another mile.  Just as he was contemplating turning around and heading back for the restaurant, the boy cried, “Hey, there’s the park where me and Kyle play sometimes!”

 

Rudy followed the child’s finger, looking out the passenger side window to see a park a quarter of the way down the block of the side street they were passing. 

 

“Are we near your house?”

 

“Uh huh.  Keep driving.  I know where we are now.  My school is just up here.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Just keep going.  Up here.  You’ll see.”

 

Sure enough, on the corner up ahead was a sprawling brick school building that Rudy could tell had been built onto several times to accommodate Carson’s ever-growing population.

 

“Are we close to your street?”

 

John peered out the window, forgetting to stay low.  Rudy didn’t care any longer how high up the boy sat.  He just wanted to get him home and get back on the freeway.  Cars zipped by them, no one paying any attention to the old man and little boy in the Ford pickup as far as Rudy could tell.  The only time Rudy made John duck down again was whenever he had to stop for a red light.

 

They traveled four more blocks when the boy cried, “There it is! That’s my street!  I can see my house from here!”  John looked at Rudy, his smile taking up his entire face. “I’m home, Rudy!”

 

“Yeah, you are,” Rudy agreed, but kept driving.

 

John’s smile faded.  “Where’re we going?”

 

“Just up a little ways.  I’m gonna turn down one of these streets up here.”

 

“But I don’t live on one of these streets.  I live on that street back there.”

 

“I know.  Don’t worry.  I’ll have you home in a few minutes.”

 

Rudy clicked on the right turn signal.  He was thankful he was already in the far right lane and didn’t have to fight traffic in order to get where he needed to be.  The Ford turned down a   street three blocks from the road John had indicated he lived on.  Like Farley said would be the case, this middle class neighborhood was quiet.  Rudy glanced at the truck’s clock.  12:22.  Many of the houses he passed were closed up tight, their garage doors shut or car ports empty.  No kids were in the yards or on the streets.  Evidently those that weren’t in those daycare places Farley mentioned were indeed inside eating.  Rudy figured his cause was further aided by the temperature, which a bank thermometer on the main thoroughfare declared was 98 degrees.   Everyone was probably in their air conditioned houses eating lunch and watching TV, just like Farley did at this time of day.

 

Rudy told John to hunker down in the seat again when he spotted activity in a front yard up ahead.  A woman had her back to the street, filling a wading pool from a garden hose.  Two little boys stood beside it wearing swimming trunks and eating sandwiches.  The woman started to turn at the sound of the truck traveling her street, but just at that moment one of the boys grabbed the other boy’s sandwich.  A wail of fury caused the woman’s attention to shift to her children, just as the one who’d stolen the sandwich took off for the backyard, his brother following with a plastic bat he’d picked up.  The woman ran behind the boys.

 

“Jason, give Matthew back his sandwich! Matthew, put that bat down!  Don’t you dare hit your brother!”

 

Rudy didn’t care who hit who. He was just glad the boys had created a diversion that took their mother’s interest off the strange truck driving through her neighborhood.

 

Rudy turned right when he came to the end of the block, then carefully counted three blocks and turned right again.

 

“This is my street, Rudy!”

 

“I know.”

 

Rudy was now headed north on John’s street, which meant he’s have a straight shot to the main thoroughfare after he dropped the boy off.  If he’d come in from the other direction, he’d have had to drive around the block, or back up and turn around, further delaying his exit from the neighborhood.

 

This street was just as quiet as the previous one they’d traveled.  Rudy kept reminding John to stay down, but the boy was too excited to listen as he pointed out various homes.

 

“And that’s where Jennifer’s friend Amy lives.  And see that house across the street?  Mrs. Perkins lives there.  We take care of her cat whenever she goes away.  And that green house there?  My friend Elizabeth lives there. Oh! Here’s Kyle’s house.  This is Kyle’s house, Rudy!”

 

Rudy slowed down as they passed Kyle’s house.  “Which house is yours, Katori?”

 

“Up there.  The tan one with the red shutters.”

 

The house the boy referred to was four houses from where they were now.  It looked well kept, with a neatly trimmed lawn, and landscaping of flowers and bushes within a border of railroad ties that lined the front of the house.  It looked like a nice home.  A nice place for a little boy to grow up.  Better than in the desert with an old man who didn’t know the first thing about raising children. 

 

“Whose car is that?” Rudy asking, referring to the LaBaron in the driveway.

 

“My mom’s.”

 

So the boy’s mother was home.  That was the last hurdle Rudy had to cross.  Making as certain as he could that someone was home, and that he wasn’t sending John into an empty house.

 

In the rearview mirror, Rudy saw a car pass by on the street behind them, and then another.  He had to get this over with before someone turned down this street. He pulled up to the curb, applied the brake, and put the vehicle in park. He took the baseball cap off John’s head, shoving it beneath the seat. 

 

“I’m gonna have you get out now, Katori.  Remember everything Farley taught you yesterday ‘bout what to say to your folks and the police.”

 

“I will.”

 

“You’re gonna walk to your house while I drive outta here, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Give me a chance to get outta sight though, all right?”

 

“All right.”

 

Without realizing he was going to do it, Rudy reached across the seat and pulled the boy to his chest.  “It’s been nice gettin’ to know you, Katori, and havin’ ya’ stay with me.”

 

John wrapped his arms around Rudy’s waist, closed his eyes, and huddled into Rudy.  

 

“It’s been nice gettin’ to know you too, Cloud Jumper. Thanks for givin’ me a place to hide, and for takin’ care of me, and for lettin’ me play with your old toys.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Rudy was the first to break their hug. “Go on now.  Get outta the truck and start walking toward your house.”

 

John seemed reluctant to let Rudy go, as though he was well aware that he’d never see the man again.

 

“Go on now, Katori. Your mom’ll be real happy to see you.”

 

That seemed to give John the incentive he needed.  He opened the passenger door, slipped out onto the sidewalk, gave Rudy a wave goodbye, and slammed the door shut.

 

When Rudy saw the boy was safely on the sidewalk and away from the truck, he put the vehicle in drive and hit the accelerator.  As he’d expected, John’s “walk” to his house was an all out run as excitement took over.  Rudy watched in the rearview mirror until he saw the boy had safely entered the front door of the tan house with the red shutters.  He didn’t waste time trying to cross traffic and turn left so he was headed west toward the freeway.  Instead, he turned right, flowing smoothly with the traffic headed east, switched lanes at the first opportunity, went down to the next light, turned left, drove a block, then turned left again.  Now he was headed west, toward I-110.  Ten minutes later, Rudy drove up the 110 on-ramp.  He’d made it out of Carson without seeing a cop.  He hoped his luck in that regard lasted during the long drive home to Nipton.

 

~ ~ ~

 

John raced across the front lawn, pounded up the steps, threw the storm door open, then grabbed the knob on the wooden door.  It offered no resistance when he turned it, meaning Jennifer had forgotten to lock it behind her again when she’d left for work.  John threw that door open too.  The living room was empty, the house quiet except for the distant sound of the vacuum cleaner running somewhere that he couldn’t immediately identify.

 

“Mom!” the boy called as he ran from room to room. “Mom, I’m home!  Hey, Mom, I’m home!”

 

On To Part 9|Back to Emergency Home Page