Bill said, “Hey, where you going?”
Kate said, “Come here, will you?”
They walked over to the tree. It looked like a chair strapped to the trunk about forty feet up. “What’s that?” she said to Bill.
“A tree stand,” Bill said. “Hey, Del, what do you make of this?”
Del and Johnny came over now, Del squinting, looking into the rising sun, fixing his gaze on the upper part of the tree. “It’s a tree stand,” he said.
“I know that,” Bill said. “Odd place to hunt, don’t you think?”
Johnny said, “If that was their purpose.”
Bill glanced at Kate. “You’re sure it’s not yours?”
“We don’t own one,” Kate said. “Owen was a bow hunter.”
“Somebody setting up there watching the lodge,” Del said. He spit a gob of tobacco juice, brown-colored spray landing in the heavy curls of his beard. “I sold one just like it to a feller the other day. That and climbing spurs and a pair of binoculars.”
Kate said, “What did he look like?”
“Sturdy build,” Del said, “dark hair, mid-thirties. He wasn’t a tourist, I can tell you that.”
That sounded like the guy in the bar. “Did he have a mullet?” Kate said.
“I believe he did,” Del said.
Johnny took a long leather strap out of his backpack and wrapped it around the trunk of the maple and started to walk up the tree like a squirrel, and in no time at all he was sitting in the chair looking down at them.
He said, “Know anyone with the initials TMH? Fresh-carved in the bark.”
“Like whoever it was had time on their hands,” Del said. He launched another gob of tobacco juice, hit a leaf and it flipped over.
Bill said, “Why does that sound familiar?” He stared off like he was thinking.
Del said, “I give up.”
Bill said, “I stopped a guy the other night, had those initials. Theodore Monroe Hicks.”
Del said, “What the hell kind of a name is that?”
“A hick name,” Bill said.
Del grinned. “That’s pretty good.” And spit.
The name sounded familiar. Sure, Kate remembered Teddy Hicks. He was the driver who broke Owen’s collarbone and ended his racing career. Could it be the same guy?
Johnny came back down with a backpack. He opened it and took out a thermos, two empty beer cans, and a half-full bag of Kars salted peanuts.
“Whoever it is, I’ve got to believe he’s coming back,” Del said. “You don’t just walk off, leave a $250 tree lounge.”
Bill said to Johnny, “What’d you see?”
“Clear view of the lodge and the yard,” Johnny said. “Could look right in the bedroom window, see the alarm clock on the table next to the bed.”
Kate felt weird, uneasy, hearing that someone had been watching them, picturing the face of the sleazy guy from the other night and wondering if he was watching them right now. “I didn’t think anyone even knew we were here,” she said.
“Somebody did,” Del said.
“Or somebody didn’t,” Johnny said. “Maybe they were checking the place out to rob it.”
Bill glanced at Kate. “Where’s your friend?”
“He went back to Detroit,” Kate said.
“I saw him in Omena yesterday morning and I’d swear I saw him in Suttons Bay last night,” Bill said. “Driving the green Lexus with the broken taillight.”
He had the right car, but it didn’t make sense, Kate was thinking. Jack had called about one o’clock, saying he’d driven straight back and was staying with his sister. Bill must’ve been mistaken.
Johnny was hunkered down again, studying tracks at the base of the tree. He said, “Mrs. McCall, what size boot does your boy wear?”
Kate said, “Ten and a half.”
“I think someone was watching your lodge,” Johnny said, “saw your boy come through the trees and followed him.”
Kate felt a rush of panic. “Why would somebody do that?”
All three of them glanced at her like they knew something and looked away.
“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Bill said.
They hiked for over an hour, the sun rising, filtering light through the trees that in places were so close together, it was difficult to move through them. They followed the tracks up a slope to a ridge and then down to a ravine. Johnny and Dell stopped and told them the tracks ended at the stream, which was cold and clear, about five feet wide, with a fast-moving current that rippled the water. Kate could see the orange flash of brook trout gliding by, and remembered being at this very spot with Owen, watching the excitement on his face as he landed four ten-inchers they took back and Kate dusted with flour and sauteed for dinner.
Bill said, “How you doing? Want to rest?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Kate said, “let’s keep going.”
Johnny took a chub out of his pack and ate it, the air smelling of smoked fish. Del spit a gob of brown juice, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and drank from a small silver flask, holding it up, saying, “Anybody care for a snort?”
No one did.
Kate smoked a cigarette. She was tired, nerves raw from worrying and lack of sleep.
They crossed the stream single file over a fallen tree, Bill walking behind her, holding her hips, trying to steady her balance. But it felt like more than that to Kate, like he was looking for an excuse to touch her. She turned and said, “Bill, I think it would be better if I did this on my own.”
Bill said, “Sure, okay” and backed off.
Johnny picked up the trail on the other side. They hiked uphill for about twenty minutes and now stood on a ridgetop, Kate breathing hard, vowing to herself to quit smoking. The view looked like a landscape oil from a Traverse City gallery. There was a pristine farm spread out in the distance: a silo and a red barn and white clapboard house and outbuildings looking like pure rural Americana. Beyond the farm, she saw the deep green colors of the woods and beyond that, Lake Michigan shimmering blue in the distance.
Johnny scanned the woods below them with the binoculars. He said, “Something I want to take a look at.”
They hiked down to a clearing where the woods ended and a cornfield began, Kate wondering if it was the field where the accident happened. There was a two-track road carved out of grass and dirt that bordered the farmer’s land.
Johnny and Del followed the terrain down a hill to an area where the leaves had been kicked and scattered. They studied the ground, talking, interpreting what they saw.
Johnny said, “There was four of them all together.”
Del said, “Somebody was running after somebody by the look of things. We found two more sets of prints. I’d say one belonged to a girl by the size of it.”
Del and Johnny went over and talked to Bill in hushed tones, like they were trying to keep something from her.
Kate said, “Tell me what’s going on, will you?”
All three of them looked over at her.
Bill said to Johnny, “Go ahead.”
“Mrs. McCall,” Johnny said, “I could be wrong, but I think this is where they grabbed your son.” He pointed to the two-track road. “And that’s how they took him out.”
Kate said, “You don’t know for sure. They could be hunters.”
“Maybe,” Johnny said. “But the boy’s missing and someone was watching your place and these marks sure look like a struggle took place. Dragged your son across there to a vehicle they had and drove off.”
“Come on,” Kate said. “How can you be so sure?” It seemed impossible-none of it made sense. How’d they know Luke was going to be at the lodge when she didn’t know herself? And how’d they know he was going to take a walk in the woods? Or where he’d end up? “What would anyone want with a sixteen-year-old kid?”
“Money,” Dell said. “Oldest motivator there is.”