F. Wilson - Secret Circles

Would you care to describe it for me?”

“You know exactly what it looks like.”

“Do I? „Artifact‟ is such a vague term—it could be anything. But if you won‟t describe it, can you perhaps tell me what it might be used for?”

Weezy frowned. “Used?”

“Yes. What did it do ?”

“It didn‟t do anything that we know of.”

“Then what possible use could it be to the Order? Why would we want to … steal it?”

Her voice rose. “Because it‟s proof that there‟s a Secret History of the World, something your order and other groups like it want to remain secret!”

As Mr. Drexler‟s smile broadened while he stared at Weezy, Jack edged to the left for a peek through the doors. He saw fringed rugs on the floor—Persian carpets?—dark, indistinct paintings on the walls, a large fireplace with a lot of curios set on the mantel above it. The one in the center looked—

Jack felt his neck muscles bunch as he took a step closer for a better view.

Eggers reappeared then, frowning at Jack as he blocked the space.

But not before Jack spotted a black object similar in size to the pyramid he and Weezy had found—the one that disappeared. This thing seemed to have a pointed top.

Their pyramid?

He hid the thrill jolting through his nerves as Mr. Drexler turned to him.

“Your friend is a most entertaining young lady. I would love to stand here and discuss her Secret History of the World and other wild imaginings, but duty calls.” He lifted his gaze and inclined his head toward a place somewhere behind them. “And besides, your lost man is up and about.”

Jack turned and saw the man staggering along Quakerton Road toward the bridge. He heard a click and turned back to see the Lodge door had closed. It appeared Mr. Drexler was done with them. Perhaps they‟d stopped being “entertaining.”

“No!” Weezy cried as she started banging on the door. Her features were tight and her eyes wild. “Open up! Let us in!”

He touched her arm. “That‟s not going to help.”

For an instant she looked as if she was going to pound on him instead of the door, then her shoulders slumped and she nodded. He was afraid she was going to cry, but she took a breath and started down the walk.

“Let‟s go.”

He‟d never seen her like this. What was with her, anyway?

8

They caught up to the lost man at the edge of the swollen lake. “Where‟re you going?”

Jack said.

“Thirsty.” He looked at them with glazed eyes, then pointed at Quaker Lake.

“Need a drink.”

“That‟s probably not such a good idea,” Weezy said. She seemed back in control

again. “Might make you sick.”

“Come on.” Jack pointed to the bridge. “Let‟s get you across. There‟s an

ambulance on the way.”

A sheriff‟s cruiser pulled up just as they reached the other side. Deputy Tim

Davis hopped out and helped the man to the car where he sat on the rear seat with his legs outside and his feet on the ground.

“The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.”

After handing him a bottle of water, with advice to drink slowly, Tim turned to

Jack. He‟d dated Jack‟s sister, Kate, in high school, so they knew each other pretty well.

“Where‟d you find him?”

“He sort of found us.”

“That‟s not answering the question.”

Jack glanced at Weezy and said, “Out by Old Man Foster‟s.”

Tim didn‟t look surprised. “That wouldn‟t be the land that‟s posted for „No

Trespassing,‟ would it?”

“Good thing we just happened by, huh?” Jack added a grin.

Tim didn‟t return the smile. He looked tense. “I suppose so. Don‟t go anywhere.

I need to talk to you two.”

“About what?” Weezy said.

“About the woods.”

“Why us?”

“Because you spend so much time there, you should be made honorary pineys.” Ordinarily he might have smiled when he said something like that, but his

expression remained grim. Jack wondered what was going on.

As Tim took out his note pad and began asking the man questions, Jack started

pulling Weezy aside to tell her what he‟d seen on the Lodge‟s mantel. But then he

heard the first question and it puzzled him.

“You didn‟t happen to see a little boy in there this morning?”

The man shook his head. “I didn‟t see anyone until I came upon these two.” Tim looked at them. “How about it? Did you see a kid?”

Jack shook his head and saw Weezy doing the same. “No, but—” But Tim had turned back to the man. He said his name was Ted Collingswood, a

broker in the Prince ton Merrill Lynch office. He‟d arrived in the Pines on Thursday, planning to spend a few days birding. He wasn‟t due back till today, so nobody would have reported him missing yet. According to his story, Jack estimated he was now at

least fifteen miles from where he‟d left his car.

By the time he started telling his tale of being chased up a tree by the “thing,”

about a dozen people had gathered. Jack shook his head, thinking how it didn‟t take

much to draw a crowd in Johnson, New Jersey, the most boring town on Earth. “Sounds like the Jersey Devil,” someone said.

Jack looked but it wasn‟t Eddie.

Tim said, “Sounds more like a bear.”

“Bear?” someone else said. “There ain‟t no bears in the Pines.” “Yes, there are,” Tim said.

“We‟ve got black bears. Not a lot, but we‟ve got

some, and this man was unlucky enough to stumble across one in the dark. Let‟s leave it at that, shall we? Let‟s not start getting all Twilight Zone about this. Bears can climb, and they‟re heavy enough to break branches a man‟s weight won‟t.”

A bear worked for Jack, maybe even explained the tracks around the pyramid. Everyone turned then at the sound of a siren as an ambulance roared up

Quakerton Road. They watched the EMTs load Mr. Collingswood into the back and roar

away.

And as it did, another sheriff‟s department cruiser pulled up and a deputy got

out. Jack didn‟t recognize him and couldn‟t read his name-tag from here. After a

whispered conversation with Tim, the new deputy leaned back against his car with his arms folded across his chest.

Tim was reaching into a button-down breast pocket of his dark blue shirt as he

approached Jack and Weezy.

“We‟ve got a serious situation here, and I‟m hoping you can help.” Uh-oh.

“Sure,” Jack said. “What‟s up?”

Tim pulled out a photo and handed it to them.

“Know who this is?”

Jack‟s stomach clenched when he saw the photo of a smiling little boy with

shaggy blond hair.

“That‟s Cody … Cody Bockman. What—?”

“He‟s missing.”

“The little guy we saw this morning?” Weezy said.

“You saw him?” Tim said.

The other deputy straightened from the cruiser and approached as Jack told of

his encounter.

“Last I saw him, he was pedaling toward his house. What happened?” “According to the father, the kid had just learned to ride his two-wheeler, and

was running it up and down their driveway this morning, going from the street to the garage in back. His dad went in to refill his coffee, and when he came back out, the kid was gone.”

“But where?” Weezy said.

“The dad ran up and down Jefferson and every other street in the neighborhood.

Not a sign of him.”

Jack drew a map in his head. Jefferson was his street. Its west end stopped at

the buffer woods along 206. The east end stopped at—

“The lake!”

Weezy‟s hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, no!”