Perri O'Shaughnessy - Presumption Of Death

He was gone. Nina ran to Hitchcock, who crouched like a sphinx. Wounds on his neck and ear actively bled. Paul had gone to the other dog, stick at the ready, but it didn’t move. He poked at it. Nina saw its muzzle, flecked with saliva and blood.

“Dead,” Paul said.

Nate stayed back. “Dead dog,” he said in a high, anxious tone. “Hedgehog, there are wild boars around here. They rush out of the bushes with tusks. Or mothers with babies all in a row behind them.”

Paul came over to stand beside Hitchcock. He knelt down. “I’ll get the picnic blanket out of the back,” Nina said. They wrapped Hitchcock up and put him in the cargo area of the Bronco.

“I’d like to search the tent while Coyote’s gone,” Paul said.

“No, Paul. Please.” She didn’t say, it’s illegal. All bets were off, but they had to get Nate out of there safely and get Hitchcock to a vet. “Hop in back,” she told Nate, and he did.

Paul studied the tent.

“He almost shot you,” she said. “I don’t know why he didn’t pull the trigger.”

“I killed his dog.”

“You had to. Paul, if-if you want to go in there, I’ll wait out here with Nate and Hitchcock.”

“Stay here.” He jogged to the tent and entered. In about three minutes, which amounted to three years of nail-biting fear in Nina’s life, he came out.

Nina got in front and Paul climbed in back. Reversing, she drove them all out of there.

T HEY SWERVED THROUGH THE CURVES, NATE curled up in a corner of the back seat. He did not warm to Paul, who after a few minutes decided that Nate wouldn’t do anything rash and leaned over the front passenger-seat headrest to watch the road.

“Where should we take him?” he said eventually. “You got this figured out?”

“The sheriff’s substation,” Nina said. “Carmel Valley Village is the closest.”

“He might have relatives.”

“The authorities can notify them. And screen them. I’m not taking any chances. Nate? Nate?” Nina rolled up the windows and turned on the AC, so the Bronco was quieter. “Is he asleep, Paul?”

“No, he’s looking out the window. Hey, kid, Nina wants to ask you a question, okay?” In the rearview mirror, Nina saw Paul tap Nate’s knee. The boy turned that wondering, anxious, otherworldly face to them.

“Nate? You talked about your mother. Where is your mother?”

“Are you my mother?” His head cocked.

“No, where is your mother?”

“Home.”

“And where is home?”

“Markleeville.”

“Markleeville!”

“Did I say something wrong? Ring, rang, wrong. The mission has a big bell.”

“Nate, are you Washoe? From the Washoe tribe?”

“My mother says Washoe all the time. Washoe my shoe. It must be dirty.”

“Paul,” Nina said, “it would make sense. Danny was half Washoe. He would have hooked up with other Washoes who lived down here.” She was excited. Sandy was a Washoe elder. The tribe could help Nate. He would be identified, claimed, and protected by the tribe.

She asked questions, trying to find out how Nate had come to that godforsaken clearing in the woods to live with his brother, but Nate didn’t seem to know the answers. He would try to explain, but got sidetracked so quickly she couldn’t get the sense.

“We’ll call Sandy tonight and find out about him,” Paul said.

“Yes. Nate, Paul and I-we won’t let anyone hurt you. We are going to see that you have a bath and food and…”

“Ice cream!”

“Ice cream. And nice people to stay with while we call your mother.”

“But you’re the one that I love,” Nate said, sounding frightened.

“I’ll see you again soon.”

“He’s going to take some children.”

“What?” Paul said.

“He is. Take them in the van someplace. I heard. Who are they?”

Nina almost ran off the road. When she could, she slowed, pulled off, and stopped the car, then twisted so that she could see Nate. On his face was an expression of innocent inquiry.

Paul showed many emotions. He held up his hand, keeping Nina quiet, saying, “Nate, listen to me. Okay? Are you listening?”

Nate nodded.

“Coyote is going to take some children?”

“That doesn’t sound right. Did I say that?”

“How did you find out? About taking children?”

He appeared more confident. “He talked on the phone. Then he saw me and put me in the tree. Nailed me to the tree.”

“What did he say on the phone?” Nate looked out the window, and Paul tapped his knee again and repeated the question.

“He said nobody stiffs him and you better have the money ready next day.”

“What else did he say?”

“He said, you goddamn little weasel, you were listening to me. And put me in the tree. At night there are sounds.”

“Is that all you heard? All he said?”

“Birds. Squirrels. The sounds acorns make when they fall. Wee-zull. Weasel. Please freeze. Ice cream.”

That was all they could get from him. After ten minutes during which Nate degenerated into complete nonsense, Nina started up again, driving them to the sheriff’s department in the Village. Inside, Paul let her handle it. She quickly put on her invisible lawyer togs, insisting on talking to the station captain, insisting on filling out statements, insisting on having Child Welfare contacted while she and Paul waited.

They left Nate in the care of a sympathetic female deputy. He hadn’t had his ice cream yet, but they made a solemn promise he would get his wish soon. The sheriff’s office would talk to the D.A.’s office about getting a search warrant for the campsite and an arrest warrant for Robert Johnson, aka Coyote, for child endangerment.

“Don’t worry,” Nina said one last time, as Nate was led away.

“Mother told me, say yours truly. Yours truly,” the boy told her calmly. The police officer opened a door to a room where he could rest and Nina gave him a wave. He didn’t wave back, just observed her until the door closed.

Nina looked at her watch. Seven-thirty in the evening, darkness outside. “I think it’s safe to fall apart now, Paul,” she said. She opened the back door. Hitchcock woke up and wagged his tail, but his head was crusty with blood. “Good boy,” she said. “Brave boy.”

“I’ll drive home. Here. Climb in. Put your head against the window. You’re tired. Here’s my jacket. Use it for a pillow.”

“Should we have taken Nate back to the condo? I hate to think of him in that sterile-”

“He needs a shrink. He needs medication. He’ll get what he needs. You can check on him.”

“I’m so tired and so concerned about Nate.”

“We’ll check on him.”

“Coyote’s going to take some children. We have to do something.”

“We did what we could. We told the deputy. I’ll call Crockett’s office tonight and leave a message there too. Meanwhile, let’s get you home and get Hitchcock to the vet, honey.”

The next morning, Nina woke up without a memory of getting out of her clothes and into bed. She had fallen asleep in the car and had only a vague memory of Paul reassuring her about Hitchcock’s condition. Clouds hovered in the skies outside the windows and a brisk breeze ruffled the trees outside the bedroom window. She was alone.

Remembering Nate and Hitchcock, she sprang out of bed.

In the kitchen, Paul talked on the cell phone, stirring eggs. He wore the black silk boxers she had given him. The laundry must be getting dire. “That’s it,” he said. He hung up, said “Crockett,” and leaned over so she could hug him. The condo felt warm and safe.

“I got hold of the vet who saw Hitchcock last night,” Paul said. “The mutt needed seven stitches on his ear, and six on that nasty neck tear. They put him under, but we can pick him up later.”