F. Wilson - Secret Circles

Tim nodded, his expression even more grim. “That‟s a big worry. The good news

is, we‟ve searched the bank and haven‟t found any sign of him or his bike. Still …” “There‟s that circus too,” the other deputy said. “A bunch of trucks and trailers

and RVs arrived last night.”

“You don‟t really think he ran away to join the circus?” Weezy said. Jack‟s throat tightened as he remembered threatening to sell Cody to the circus. The deputy made a face. “Not likely, but some real shady types in that crew.” Jack said, “I kidded him about that and he seemed to think it was a cool idea.” “We‟ll check it out,” Tim said. “But they‟re setting up half a mile north on the highway. I don‟t see a five-year-old who‟s just learned to ride without his training wheels making his way anywhere near there.” He looked down at his pad where he‟d

taken notes on the lost man. “That Collingswood guy … he shows up out of nowhere

just after Cody disappears. Could be coincidence, but I don‟t like coincidences.” “I‟m sure he‟ll turn up,” Weezy said.

“Let‟s hope so. We‟ve been asking everyone we can find if they saw a little kid

riding a brand-new, bright red bike. Walt says he thinks he saw a kid riding a red bike into the Pines.”

“Thinks?” Weezy said. “Did the kid he saw have blond hair?”

“You know Walt. He says he wasn‟t paying much attention, and even if he was, I

don‟t know how reliable he‟d be. He was in his usual state.”

Weezy‟s expression became defensive.

“Even in his „usual state‟ he knows what‟s going on around town.” Tim shrugged and looked around. “In all fairness, with this being the first dry

Saturday in a while, and with so many kids on bikes around here, you‟d have to be

looking for a specific kid to be able to spot him.”

His gaze ranged back and forth, pausing on each of them.

“You two were just in there. Think hard: Did one of you see even a hint of a little

kid on a bike?”

Weezy shook her head as Jack said, “I know Cody. If I‟d seen him, I‟d ‟ve

grabbed him.”

Still, he felt bad now for not following him home.

Tim banged a fist on the fender of his car. “Damn! It was a long shot, but still …” “That doesn‟t mean he‟s not in there,” Jack added. “He wouldn‟t have gotten as

far in as we were. You know how those firebreaks fork left and right all the time, even close in. He could be just a quarter mile from here but totally lost.”

“And unless you know your way,” Weezy added, “or know enough to follow your

tire tracks back, you can get lost in no time.”

Jack had a sinking feeling. “And stay lost.”

He thought about the day ahead of him. He was supposed to put in a few hours at USED, but he was pretty sure Mr. Rosen would let him off if he asked—especially if it

concerned a missing child.

He turned to Tim. “We‟ll go back in and ride around to see if we can find him.” Tim shook his head. “I‟d get my head handed to me for putting even more kids

at risk of getting lost.”

Weezy looked offended. “We wouldn‟t get lost.”

Tim nodded. “ I know that, and you know that, but the sheriff wouldn‟t see it that way. Besides, he doesn‟t want any more bikes in there tracking up the trails.” Jack thought that was stupid. They‟d be able to spot Cody‟s bike tracks before

anyone else. And they wouldn‟t get lost. Weezy could ride a new path and remember

everything about it, then add it to the map she kept in her head. Day or night, she

knew exactly where she was in the Pines.

Jack was less sure about himself. Certain trails he knew by heart, but he‟d never

be as at home in there as Weezy. The trails forked no matter which direction you were moving. You might try memorizing your turns on your trip in, but everything looked

different on the way back. Choose one wrong fork and you could wind up in unfamiliar territory, miles from where you planned to be.

Retracing your own tracks was the best way, and promised to be pretty easy

today—all the recent rains had smoothed out the sandy surfaces of the trails, leaving them blank, like new sheets of paper waiting for someone to write on them. Perfect for finding Cody‟s tracks.

Jack was opening his mouth to protest when a flash of light flickered to the west.

He saw the underbellies of storm clouds darkening the overcast. Thunder rumbled a

few seconds later.

Tim gave his fender an annoyed slap. “Just what we need. Another storm.

Perfect timing. Damn!” He turned to Jack. “All right, you guys, head home before it gets here.”

Shoving his smarter instincts aside, Jack said, “Let us ride in for a quick look

before the storm wipes out all the tracks.”

Tim shook his head. “No way. And you know better than that, Jack. The Barrens

are the last place you want to be in a thunderstorm.”

“But maybe we can pick up his trail. Once the rain comes through, it‟ll be gone.” “I know that, and I appreciate the offer, believe me. But I‟ve got my orders, and

even if I didn‟t, I‟d never forgive myself if I let you kids go in there and something happened. We‟ll take the cars in and cover as much ground as we can. But as for you

two …” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Home. Now. Git.”

They got.

Guilt followed Jack all the way home. He should have made sure Cody had got

back to his house. If only he‟d seen him all the way home and told his folks that he‟d been out in the street. But he‟d watched him turn onto Jefferson, and hadn‟t wanted to get him in trouble. All he could think about was that little kid out in the Pines, lost and alone. He could imagine how scared he had to be. And then to be caught in a

thunderstorm …

Poor kid.

9

That evening, Jack and Weezy were biking north on Route 206 under a clear sky.

The storm had broken hard and mean just minutes after he‟d reached his house. Mr. Rosen had called from USED to tell him not to bother coming in—the storm would keep away any potential customers. So he‟d spent the afternoon with his father and his frantic mother.

She‟d heard about Cody Bockman and hadn‟t been able to sit still. She kept wanting to get an umbrella and go out searching for him in the storm. It never reached the point where Dad physically had to restrain her, but it had gotten close.

Jack felt the same way. Maybe worse. Should have seen Cody home. The kid must have kept on riding right past his house to who knew where.

The storm blew off to the east about five o‟clock. As soon as the rain stopped, Mom dragged his father into the car to drive around, looking.

Jack had gone over to Eddie and Weezy‟s and they‟d biked toward the Pines for their own search. But a deputy had waved them off, saying they didn‟t want fresh bike tracks messing up the trails.

Jack told him they weren‟t going to find anything old after the way it had rained, but his arguments fell on deaf ears.

As they‟d ridden back through Old Town, Weezy suggested they go watch the circus set up.

Eddie begged off—not interested. Jack knew he didn‟t want to make the trip up 206.

“I think I saw the pyramid,” Jack said as they neared the field where the circus set up every year.

Weezy nearly fell off her bike as she gave him a wide-eyed stare.

“You what ? W-w-when? How?”

“Today, when we were talking to Mister Drexler.”

“And you didn‟t tell me?”

“I haven‟t had a chance. And hearing about Cody pretty much blew it out of my head until now.”