Mr. Mort came out of Doc’s a few minutes later with Doc right behind him. They were staring at a piece of paper and pointing. Then Mr. Mort made his way back to the truck.

He got in just as Doc made it into his own car. Then he pulled up next to the Doc’s car and rolled down the window. Doc did the same and they both leaned out at each other.

“Tell Bob I’m dropping the kids off at Frank’s. I think I’m onto something, Doc.” Mr. Mort reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his notebook. He scribbled on the page for a second and folded it up and handed it to Doc. “Give him that. I’ll leave further word with Frank when I figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Don’t you think you had better wait for him?”

“I doubt there’s time... it’s started.”

“I really think you should wait for Bob before pursuing this, Mort.”

“We’ll see.” Mr. Mort rolled up his window and looked over at me and Joe. “You two didn’t want to go to school today anyway, now did ya?”

“But Chief will be mad–” started Joe. Me, I didn’t care.

“He’ll be mad at me, son. Don’t you worry.”

“You goin’ after the tiger alone?” I asked him.

“That depends,” he answered. Then he smiled at me. “Have you seen me in any of those dreams?" 

“No, sir,” I let him know.

He smiled even wider. “Tell me something, Kelly. These dreams, are they all the same?”

“The one with Hank was different on account it weren’t in the Dead Place.”

“Dead Place? Your father mentioned that. Tell me what it’s like.”

I started off telling him about the first time I dreamt it, when it was just the tiger and me. Then when Billy got into his trouble and Mary Lou was there. And finally when Hoove went and got himself caught up. That was the one I kept having lately. I told him about how the tiger got out, about the guards, about the Preacher and Sam ... How Sam was still stuck in the tree but how he tried to help me anyway. Then how the bird took out his eye. And finally how Hoove tried to save me and the tiger got him.

It took all of Main street and the north service road to tell him the dream. We turned down Coach's driveway and  he parked the truck and cut off the engine. But aside from that he made no moves- just sat there staring out the window. After a while he turned to me.

“Was there anything in the dreams that was shared? I mean that was in both the Dead Place dreams and the dream at the bleachers?”

“You mean besides the tiger and the bird?”

“Yes.”

I looked at him and started to think about it, but I couldn’t think.

“Take your time, honey.”

“I don’t know Mr. Mort. I don’t think so–” I started, then it hit me. I knew what he was getting at. It was the bleeding tree.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asked. “You got it?”

“The tree,” I said soft. For some reason I started to shiver. Mr. Mort saw it and drew me closer.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right. I have just one more question.”

“Yessir?” I said, but I felt the tears starting up behind my eyes and they made the words hard to choke out.

“Have you ever seen that tree before?”

“No sir, I...” I started. But somehow it was too familiar.  “I just don’t remember.”

At that Joe broke in, “Sergeant?”

Mr. Mort turned to Joe. “Yes?”

“When she saw Mr. Blackney kill Preacher, she went blank.”

“Your father filled me in on all of that.”

“Did he tell you how she’d just take off?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’d run... I mean she’d bolt. Start running blind. Chief would find her wandering around. She wasn’t aware of where she was- or what she was doing. A couple of times he found her in the Berritts. Some times he found her at Miller’s Pond.”

“The pond was where the preacher was found. Is it far from the Berritts?”

“The Berritts takes up most of the woods between Middleton and Berritts Hills. But the part of it he found her at is way north, just this side of Springdale, in the Grange.”

“I see.”

There was a knock at the window on his side and we all looked up at Coach who was staring at us.

Mr. Mort opened his door and Coach backed out of his way. 

“Frank,” Mr. Mort told Coach.

“Mort,” nodded Coach. “What’s going on?”

Mr. Mort looked at him. “Hank and Huey are missing.”

“My god,” Coach told himself.

“I was supposed to take the kids to school today and watch them,” Mr. Mort saw us and motioned us out of the truck. Then he turned back to Coach. “But I think I have a lead.”

“Which is?”

Mr. Mort motioned to the cabin, “Mind if we talk about it inside?”

Coach nodded and led us back to his cabin. He opened the door and held it open. Me and Joe made our way to the back to stare out Coach’s big window at the dogs. Mr. Mort and Coach hung back and started whispering at the front door. I wondered if Mr. Mort had the piece of the puzzle that had me stumped– the piece that would make sense of the mess in my head. I left Joe by the window and walked slowly to the kitchen where Mr. Mort and Coach stood a foot apart.

“You can’t be sure it’s the same tree.”

“I realize that ... but the similarities...” Mr. Mort said before he noticed me. His eyes locked onto mine and he said, “There is one way to be sure,” he told Coach. “Kelly, I’d like you to do one more thing for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could you draw me a picture of the tree from your dreams?”

“But I can’t even draw a stick man.”

“Do the best you can.”

I frowned at him, “Billy’s the draw-er,” I let him know as Joe came up behind me. “I can tell him what it looks like and he can draw it for me.”

Mr. Mort looked over at Coach. “That’s not a bad idea.”  “Take a seat, Kelly,” Mr. Mort told me and motioned me to the kitchen table after Coach left to find Billy. I sat down with Joe next to me and waited. Billy showed up a few minutes later with his paper tucked under his big arm and pencils clenched in his hand. He smiled at me and shook his head “howdy.”

“Hiya, Billy,” I told him and gave him back the smile.

He sat down next to me and spread out his paper after setting the pencils neatly on the table. Then he turned his water blue eyes on me.

“Mr. Mort wants you to draw a tree, Billy,” I told him. His eyebrows came together as he looked up at Mr. Mort.

“Not just any tree,” I let him know. “It’s the one from my dream.”

Billy looked back at me. Then nodded that he got it. I took a sheet of his paper and using one of his pencils, went about showing him what the tree sort of looked like.

“It was way big Billy. It’d take six of me holdin’ hands to go around the whole thing. And the branches grew out like this.” I drew the way they looked but it wasn’t very good. Billy picked up a pencil himself and started drawing what I had down. Only his looked more like branches; more like roots and more like a tree than the bunch of squiggly lines I had down on the paper. I went about pointing out the way the branches spread out, and the roots started halfway up the tree’s trunk. I even pointed out the shape of the leaves and the way the branches bent towards the ground. Halfway through the drawing Billy stopped. He gently set his pencil down and stared at the paper, his face slowly loosing color. He looked up, the color coming back to his face as his anger took hold and he went crazy mad! He jumped out of his seat and stared harshly at Mr. Mort and Coach.

“What’s the matter Billy?” I asked him. “You’re almost done. It looks good,” I let him know.

He started shaking his head from side to side, hard enough to make his hair stand up. And his jaw was set tight, his teeth clenched. Coach went to him and tried to calm him down. He talked real softly to him so that only Billy could hear. It seemed to work.

I looked back at the picture we had started together and shivered. Coach led Billy back to the table to finish the drawing, but Billy braced his hands against the edge of the table top and whipped his head back and forth. He planted his feet and there was no way anyone was gonna get Billy closer to the drawing.

I looked up at Mr. Mort who watched Billy with obvious interest. He crossed the room slowly and picked up the picture and studied it. Then his eyes peeked over the paper and landed on Billy. Billy looked back, his own eyes filled with fear.

“Have you seen this tree before, Billy?” Mr. Mort asked.

Billy backed away from him and into his pa. Billy was trapped.

“Have you seen this tree before?” Mr. Mort tried again.

Billy wouldn’t answer. He just stood his ground, trapped between his pa and Mr. Mort. Coach put a hand on Billy’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, son.” Coach's voice was low and directed at Billy. It was the same voice he used on me the day Joe got himself spotted by the tiger. “Answer Sergeant Moss.”

Billy whipped around to face his pa. He shook his head hard and tried to pull free, but Coach held him. Billy could have easily gotten loose. He was a lot bigger than his pa. But he would never go against him. He loved his pa too much.

Instead, Billy went up to Mr. Mort and grabbed the picture. He came back to the table and sat down with a thud. Then he grabbed a pencil and went to work on the tree. He broke two pencils in half and three lead tips, before he finished. But he did finish, and without a single other word from me. He even drew in the hole and the blood. He stood after he finished and shot both his pa and Mr. Mort a hot  and angry look; a look I’d never seen on Billy’s face before- it didn’t look right on him. Then he left the room. We all heard the slam when Billy left out the back door.

I studied the picture. “It’s the tree in the Dead Place all right,” I let them know. I looked up at Mr. Mort who was still staring towards the back of the house and the noise that seemed to hang in the room like an echo.

“He going to be all right?” he asked Coach.

“I’ve never seen him like that."

“Can I ask you something, Frank?”

Coach looked up at Mr. Mort. “Yes,” he said soft-like.

Mr. Mort thought up his words. “Has Billy always been...”

“Retarded?” Coach busted in. “Yes.”

But Mr. Mort wasn’t going to let it drop. “I was going to ask if he has always been mute? But I remember last time I was by this way he was talking. It was a struggle. But he had words.”

At that Coach shot him a look. He stayed that way for what seemed a long time. His eyes narrowed in on Mr. Mort, his eyebrows came together. Then his expression came back to normal. “He was born slow, Mort. He was saying short sentences by the time he was eight. He had a slight stutter, but he was learning speech. But that suddenly changed. He stopped talking, and because he stopped, I never found out what happened.”

“When was this? When did he stop talking?”

“Not long after you met him.”

“Spring of '23?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus,” whispered Mr. Mort. Then he narrowed his look on Coach. “Charley Stevens.”

“You think he saw it?”

“I don’t know for sure. Only Billy will ever know for sure. But it would explain things.”

Coach nodded.

“Who’s Charley Stevens?” I asked.  The question pulled their eyes off of each other and planted them on me.

“Let’s see that picture,” Mr. Mort said avoiding my question. He took the paper into his hands and his expression shifted. I could see a trace of what looked like fear in his eyes. “Is this the tree you dreamt about?”

“Yes, sir. It’s exactly the tree,” I stood up and went to his side to get a better view of the picture. “See... there’s where all the blood came out.” I pointed to the hole Billy drew into the trunk of the tree.

Mr. Mort nodded, then handed the picture to Coach. Coach examined it and handed it back whispering, “Christ...its…”

“It’s exactly the tree,” Mr. Mort said copying my words.

“You think this case has something to do with that one?”

“I don’t know for sure. I’d like to go over there and check it out. Would you mind keeping the kids this afternoon?”

“Of course not.”

“Can I use the phone?”

Coach nodded, "Help yourself."  

Mr. Mort walked to where the phone was fixed to the wall. We all watched him pull a small notebook from his shirt pocket and flip through the pages with the phone’s receiver stuck between his chin and shoulder. He found the page he wanted and twisted a finger in the dial to make his call.

“Sara,” he said into the phone at the operator. “Please ring me the schoolhouse.”

He waited as she did as he asked. When he had the connection he said, “Donaldson? This is Sergeant Moss. I’m calling to let you know that both the Broden children will not be attending class today... Okay, tell them to go home, I see no reason for guarding the school...uh-huh...uh-huh. That too. I would also like to get their class assignments for today. They can do them over here. I’ll wait." 

I did not like the way this talk was going. I thought for sure we’d get the day off, but I guess Mr. Mort didn’t want Chief too mad at him. He started scribbling notes down on the top sheet of his notebook, all the while mumbling, “Uh-huh.”

Then one more “Uh-huh” was followed by a “Good-bye, Donaldson, and thanks.”

Mr. Mort hung up the phone and looked at me and Joe. He came over to us and after ripping out the paper from his notebook, he handed the whole pile to Joe. He likely didn’t trust me. 

“Those are today’s assignments,” he told Joe. “Make sure you do them or your father will have my head.” Then he smiled at us. Joe smiled back, but I didn’t.

“Hey?” he said at me. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’," I griped.

“You thought you were going to get the whole day off, didn’t you?”

“A kid can hope,” I let him know. At that he laughed.

“Don’t worry, you could probably finish that in a couple of hours and have the rest of the day to do as you like.”

“I guess.”

Mr. Mort smiled and patted my head.  “Cheer up,” he told me. Then he turned to Coach. He handed him the picture Billy drew him and said, “Make sure Bob sees that when he gets here. Tell him that’s where I went.”

“You sure its a good idea? Going after Fred alone?” Coach asked. I got the feeling he thought it was a bad one. 

“I don’t feel I have a choice, Frank. Bob’s going to be looking for Hank and his brother for God knows how long.” He looked quick at me, then turned back to Coach. “Besides, I think Blackney has started his end game. I don’t know how long we have before he makes his final move, and I don’t feel ready. I want to get ready.”

Coach stared at him, then nodded. “The stakes are pretty high, Mort. Load your hand.”

Mort cracked a smile that didn’t stay into play on his face for very long. “I’d keep them in all day, Frank.”

“You think he knows they’re here?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows. Personally, I think he’s been planning our every move.  I’d try to be ready. Maybe give him a surprise of our own."

“All right."

“May I take a couple of dogs with me?” Mort asked. “One of them being Gaylord. Bob should bring Bailey, that way we’ll be able to find each other out there.”

“That’s a good idea. They’ll also let you know if Fred’s in the area... keep him from getting the drop on you.”

“Don’t think I wasn’t counting on that.”

Coach nodded at me and Joe. “Watch them while I go harness up the dogs.”

“You bet.”

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