The morning after the dream was a gray one. I didn’t mind so much, it was winter, and my mood seemed to match the way the outside looked just fine. The tiger was out. It wasn’t in my head like I hoped. The dream was real no matter what Chief tried to explain it away as.

It was still early– the sun not even clearing the Simpsons’ place. The wind was still blowing cold air between the crack in my window jam where TJ’s baseball broke the frame. I pulled the red sweater free from the rocking chair in the corner of my room. After shoving my head through the middle, I went back to the window and waited, pulling my hair free from the collar.

Through the window I watched old Mr. Grady deliver his ice, block by block. Up the street Mr. Buckner was hollering out collecting his rags and junk. Nathan Bellamy was snuffing the street lamps with a long pole attached to a cup. But they were not the ones I was waiting for. I was waiting for George Baker, our paperboy. I needed to see what it said about the tiger slipping his cage. Chief said he didn’t have all the details yesterday, but maybe the papers would. But it was our bad luck to be living on the wrong side of the street. We were on George’s return trip.

It wasn’t ten minutes later that I spied Mike rounding the corner of the Police Station, paper tucked under his arm, even though it was Saturday. Mike lived just up the stairs from George; he always got his paper first. I pulled my boots on and stood off the floor. I slipped out of the house without a sound as the rest of my family still slept. They had stayed up too late waiting on me to fall asleep. Especially Chief. It wasn’t until I saw him nodding off, that I decided to fake it.

But even after Chief put me to bed the dream was there, like the Dead Place, ready to take over, keeping me from any hope of sleeping.

Mike was sitting at his desk when I closed the office door. His chair was leaning against the wall, front two legs off the floor. The newspaper was spread open across his lap. He had his feet on top his desk and was wearing his cowboy hat today, rather than the baseball cap he sometimes wore.

He looked up at the sound of the door closing.

“Squirt?”

“Hiya, Mike,” I told him.

He looked at me, suspicious like. “Isn’t it kind of early for you?” Then he checked his watch. “It’s only 5:30.”

I didn’t answer. Just looked at the paper on his lap. He noticed my looking and quickly folded it up and placed it on his desk, bringing his chair to the floor.

“What brings you down here at this hour?”

“Please, Mike. Can I read your paper?”

He looked at it lying on his desk. It wasn’t right away that he answered. But after a while he said, “Kelly... I don’t know. You want the comics?”

“No, sir. You know what.”

He looked back at me and tried again, “The sports section?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Gee, I don’t know, Squirt. There’s really nothing in there worth reading.”

“Mike,” I looked him square in the eyes. “I know he’s out.”

“Chief told you?”

“Yes, sir. He told me. But I want to see if the paper has more. So’s I’ll be ready, Mike.”

He sighed. “I guess you’re right. You should be informed.” Then he looked at me sharp. “Just one thing...”

“Sir?”

“Nobody can know what another man is thinking, or what he will do. Not even a fancy head shrinker. Just remember that when you read that article.”

“I will, Mike.”

He handed me the paper and I took it to Chief’s desk.

The story was on the first page. There was even a picture of Uncle Fred. The paper started out talking about what the tiger did to Mary Lou, only the paper still thought it was Uncle Fred- Mr. Fred Blackney, they called him. Then later in the article, they just called him Blackney, like that was supposed to make him less of a person. I skimmed the story until it got to what I wanted to know. The tiger broke out during a fight the prisoners had on work detail. “Blackney” grabbed a pick-ax from one of the other prisoners and after first chopping his shackles in half, hacked two guards to death with it. The work detail was out by the new section of road they were adding to Jackson County and that whole area was covered with woods. By the time the guards broke up the fight and regrouped, “Blackney” was already deep in the trees. He “eluded” the guards and the hounds by slipping into the section of the Gainesville River that ran through that part of the county. 

I skipped down a little further to find the part with the head doctor in it. If Mike was warning me over it, it must say something important.

Dr. Burgess Freedman was the head shrinker assigned to Fred Blackney’s case. It didn’t seem to me that he had much to say. He had been treating “Blackney” for the last six months. In his opinion, “Blackney” was dangerously violent, and criminally insane. He wouldn’t go into any details of “Blackney’s” condition. Doctor-Patient rules or something. But when asked his opinion on what Mr. Blackney would do next, the doctor said he expected him to head to Middleton. The reason being that the doctor felt “Blackney” had unfinished business here. The basis for the doctor’s opinion came out during several sessions the doctor conducted with the escaped prisoner. The Doctor mentioned obsession with someone who he would not name, in Middleton. I knew who. The dream was pretty clear. The tiger was coming for me. I saw it in his eyes the day Chief fought him. I could still see him at the rail-yard whenever I closed my eyes, killing Preacher. I could still see the blood. I wondered if I’d be able to escape to my safe spot deep inside myself. Would it work again? Maybe this time the tiger knew how to reach me, even there. This time Uncle Fred wouldn’t be able to stop him, because the tiger did him in.

It was the last thing the doctor said that made me cold–it was his opinion that Blackney was “driven.”  He would not be stopped until he completed his goal or was killed attempting to complete it. The man was dangerous, because he was extremely intelligent and highly motivated. And worst of all, the man lived in delusion. He did not respond in expected ways. His delusion carried him- directed him. The doctor was afraid that the only way to catch Blackney, would be to invade that delusion- an achievement any sane man would fail.

I wondered if the delusion was the same as my dream. The Dead Place. Did the doctor know about the Dead Place? Was that the tiger’s delusion? I felt my arms turn to goose flesh. I looked at them and saw the hairs standing. I had to believe Chief would be able to catch him. If not, I was a goner.

I set the paper down on the desk. When I looked up, Mike was staring at me. I could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. I turned the pages of the paper until the section was through, eyeing Mike as I set the pages aside. I pulled the sports section free of the wad on Chief’s desk and turned away from Mike to read it. I couldn’t let Mike know I was scared. I didn’t want anyone to know. It was my problem.

I was halfway through the baseball stats when the station phone rang. I watched Mike answer it.

“Middleton Police.”

Mike looked at me. “Calm down, boss,” he said into the mouthpiece. “I know... I understand.” Mike was having trouble getting though to Chief.

I looked back at the paper. 

“Chie–” he started. “You through?” There was a pause. “Chief, she’s here ... I don’t–Came to read the paper ... yeah.... Sure.... All right.”

I looked up. Mike was looking at me. “I understand. Don’t worry.” Mike hung up the phone.

He came across the room and set his hands on the top of Chief’s desk, then leaned over, staring sharply at me. “You left the house without telling your pa where you were going?”

“He was sleeping, Mike. I didn’t want to wake him.”

“He told you about Black– I mean your Uncle Fred?”

“Yessir.”

“You didn’t think it was necessary to tell him when you left?”

“I guess I should have.”

“I guess so.”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t think–”

“Kelly, I believe now is the time to do that an awful lot. Get my meaning?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mike took in a deep breath of air; let it out slow; then crossed the room to the stove that sat in the corner. I watched as he took the coffeepot from it and poured coffee into his mug.

“Is he mad, Mike?” I asked him.

Mike took a sip from his cup. “Mad? No. I don’t think so. But I think you scared the hell– I mean he sounded a bit riled.”

“He stayed up half the night with me,” I let him know. “I just thought he could use some sleep, is all. I didn’t mean to scare 'im any.”

Mike nodded and walked to his desk. He set his cup down and picked up some papers. “He’ll be here shortly,” Mike told me. “You’re to stay here until he gets in.”

“All right. I’m only halfway through the projected batting averages for next season anyway.”

Mike smiled, then looked down at the papers he picked up earlier. I had finished with the batting averages and had starting reading the coverage on horse racing when the phone rang again.

“Middleton Police.” Mike’s expression changed. “Hank? ...  Yeah? No one said–”He stopped to listen. It was a long time before he answered. “I’ll be there. What time?”

I waited for the answer. I still liked Hank, no matter what happened before. I could see his point of view. He was trapped just the way I was. The Dead Place snared him just as tightly, only he didn’t realize that’s what it was. 

“Eleven-thirty,” Mike said. “I’ll be there.”

Mike hung up the phone. He sat down in his chair and looked at me from across the room.

“Hank gettin’ out today?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” Mike answered. He rubbed his chin; then scratched the back of his neck. “He asked me to pick him up at eleven-thirty.”

“Can I go with ya?”

“I don’t know, Squirt. I don’t think Chief would want me taking you to a prison.”

“Why not?”

“Not a nice class of people there.”

“Oh,” I said. Then I turned my mind back over to the sport’s page.

* * * * *

Chief replaced the receiver and stared at the phone. His heartbeat was still racing from the panic that had controlled him since seeing his daughter’s empty room. He had searched the remaining areas of the house with no luck. It was too early for her to be playing with any of her friends. Chief’s mind raced. Somewhere, in its deep recesses, the image of Fred Blackney carrying his child out of the house and into the woods became vivid.

He phoned the station, hoping Mike would be there. They had agreed to work every weekend until the escaped criminal was apprehended. He would need help searching for his daughter.

It was an incredible relief when Mike had informed him that Kelly was safe at the station. Now he stood by the phone to sweat the remaining adrenaline from his body.

The phone rang as Chief was still regaining his composure.

“Hello,” he whispered into the phone, his voice hoarse from the earlier fear.

“Is this Chief Broden?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Chief Broden, this is Dr. Burgess Freedman from the Melrose Facility for the Criminally Insane. Chief, we need to talk.”

Chief caught his breath.

“Chief, are you there?”

“Yes,” Chief Broden whispered into the phone. “I’m still here. I was about to call you today, as a matter of fact. I was hoping to meet with you this afternoon.”

“When?”

“Melrose is roughly five and a half hours from here. I can leave in about an hour,” Chief pulled away from the kitchen to note the time on the grandfather in the hall. “It’s six now. I could be there around twelve-thirty–one o’clock.”

“That will work out fine for me,” answered the doctor. “I’ll see you then–”

“Doctor,” Chief cut him short. “Is there something I need to know now?”

“Sir, I think your daughter is in a good deal of danger. I’ll fill you in later, but make sure she’s safe before you leave today. Blackney could be there by now. I believe he may be after her.”

“Why do you say that? She wasn’t the one who sent him up. It couldn’t be revenge.”

“Revenge? No, it’ s not revenge. It may be worse than that. I’ll explain when you get here.”

“I’ll be there,” Chief said and hung up the phone. He retreated up the stairs, showered and dressed, his mind still on the words of the doctor, still remembering his panic of the morning. His instincts as a father held true. He was correct in assuming the danger. Now all he had to act on his assumptions.

By the time Chief was dressed and ready, Maggy was in the kitchen starting breakfast. She informed him, as he passed by the kitchen door on the way to the den, of her and Elly’s plans to go shopping for the wedding, and to make the arrangements for the church, flowers and cake.

“We’ll probably be gone until four,” she said from the kitchen as Chief walked by the door a second time on his way to the front door.

Chief paused at the door. “I’m riding over to Melrose today, Maggy. I’ll be gone until late.”

Maggy was drying her hands on her apron as she entered the hall.“You want us to cancel? I mean to look after Kelly?”

“Let me see if Mike will mind guarding over her today. If not, you can go.”

“Call me and let me know what he decides,” she said.

“I will. I’ll see you later,” Chief said before leaving her standing in the foyer. She watched him cross the street to the Police Station.

When Chief opened the door he noticed Mike was sitting at his desk, the file from the case of the previous summer was spread before him. The young deputy was examining the papers with a high degree of concentration and motivation. Chief directed his glance at his daughter who was studying the morning newspaper. She looked up as he walked through the door.

At first she didn’t say a word. He wondered if it was because of the article.

Then she said, “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“You scared the living hell out of me, Kelly. Don’t you ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” she said and looked down.

“I know you’ll try, pumpkin,” Chief answered her. Then he crossed the room to where the coffeepot rested. He lifted his mug from the table beside the stove and poured himself a cup. From there he called his deputy over.

“What is it?” Mike asked when he was standing next to Chief.

“Dr. Freedman called the house after you hung up.”

“That early?” Mike sensed Chief’s alarm.

“Mike I have no right to ask this of you, but I need someone to look after Kelly while I’m out of town. After this morning, and after what the doctor said on the phone, I’d prefer it be someone who can handle a gun. Mike, I’d feel a lot better about leaving if I knew she was with you.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, boss-man.” Mike smiled, more to put Chief at ease than finding any humor in the matter.

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Don’t give it a second thought. I’d be happy to watch her for you,” Mike answered then asked, “What did Dr. Freedman say, exactly? He was kind of vague in the paper.”

“Let’s just say all my parental fears may not be so far off the mark.”

“Then she is in real danger? You sure? She wasn’t the one who testified. How could he want revenge against her?”

“Freedman said it wasn’t revenge he wanted. Then he got vague again.” Chief took a deep breath. “But he was sure enough of the danger to call me at six in the morning.”

“I see your point.”

“I just wish the point wasn’t so sharp and aimed at my child, Mike.”

“Well, don’t worry about a thing today. Just bring back details from that doctor. I’d like to help in nailing that bastard.”

Chief smiled. “Thanks,” he said, setting his mug aside. He pulled his wallet free and pried a few loose bills free and tried handing them to his deputy.

“Chief I don’t need that for Christ’s sake.”

“Take it. It’s for lunch. Maggy and Elly won’t be back until after four. I don’t want my kid to starve,” Chief answered and shoved the bills in the deputy’s hand.

“This is an awful lot of green for lunch. How much does that kid eat anyway?”

“Not near enough,” was the answer as Chief removed his mug from the table and brought it to his lips.

“I’ll pay you back,” Mike said.

“The way I figure it, Mike, it’s I who owe you a dept and no amount of money will ever cover it.” Chief set his mug down a second time and turned to his daughter. “Kelly, would you come here please?”

She set the paper down and walked slowly to her father.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m going to be gone all day today. I want you to stay with Mike. You are to do exactly as he says– when he says it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered. Then she turned to Mike. “Is that all right with you, Mike?”

Mike smiled at her, his smile easy and natural. “Just don’t be a pain in the neck.”

That made Kelly laugh. “I won’t. Then her expression changed in thought. “What about Hank?”

“Hank?” asked her father turning to the deputy.

“I forgot. I promised Hank I’d pick him up at eleven-thirty. I could send someone else.”

Chief thought. “No, that’s okay. Take Kelly with you.” he said and turned to his daughter. “But you are to stay in the car until Mike comes back out. Do you understand?”

“Yessir. Mike is boss. If I act up he tells you and you tell my butt. I understand just fine.”

Chief smiled and shook his head at his daughter. “As long as you understand,” he said. “Now,” he added, bending lower. “Give me a hug and I’ll be on my way.” 

Chief hugged his daughter and looked up at Mike. “Call Maggy and let her know you’re watching Kelly today,” he said and rose. “Thanks, Mike,” he said and headed for the door. Both Kelly and Mike watched the door swing shut behind him.

*  *  *  *  *

The low hanging clouds of the morning had burned off by mid-day. The sun shown brightly, bringing sharp edges to the world it touched. There was a gentle breeze that blew from the north keeping the temperature just below fifty-three degrees. Outside it was a perfect Spring day, but inside the patrol car, the greenhouse effect of the glass windows caused Kelly to relinquish her sweater.

“How far away is it, Mike?” she asked.

He looked down at her sitting next to him, her small form all but swallowed by the hugeness of the seat.

“Not too far, Squirt. About two hours north. We’ll hit Springdale first, then there’s Potterstown, then after that Bridgeport. That’s where Hank is.”

“Where’d Chief go?”

“Oh, he had some business west of town.”

“He’s going to talk to that doctor man, isn’t he?”

Mike didn’t answer. He choked his initial response, which was to turn and look at the girl. He kept his eyes on the road in front of him. “Why do you ask?” he said to the road.

He felt the child’s eyes on him. “Because I think the doctor knows about the Dead Place.”

At that Mike did look down at her. He was struck by the child’s sadness, the resignation in the bright blue eyes. Eyes half covered by long wisps of blond hair.

“The ‘Dead Place?’”

“Where the tiger hunts from. Didn’t Chief tell you?”

Mike’s throat felt dry. He looked back at the road and said, “No, we skipped that part. What is this ‘Dead Place,’ Squirt?”

“I go there sometimes,” she answered. Her voice was low. When again Mike looked down she was staring out the window turned away from him.

“It’s going to be all right. Pretty soon, there won’t be any reason for a ‘Dead Place.’ I promise.”

“I know, Mike,” she told him. “I’m not worried.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Kelly.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, her blue eyes catching the sunlight. The irises appeared to flash.

“You’re a brave kid, Squirt. I think I would be afraid if I went to a dead place from time to time."

“You would?”

“Sure I would.”

“What would you do about it? I mean if you went to a dead place from time to time. What would you do about it?”

“Well... I’ don’t know. I guess I would try to figure out why I keep going there. Maybe there's something I need to put to rest in the dead place. Or maybe it's something I need to take out with me. Examine it. Maybe once the thing is out of the dead place I could see it for what it really is.”

“Is that what I need to do, Mike?” she asked him. Mike felt her eyes on him again.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Mike pulled the cruiser through a sharp bend in the road. The bend was followed by a second hook curving in the opposite direction. It was after making this turn that he saw the state highway patrol car parked at the side of the road. In front of it were a second highway patrol and three Springdale squad cars.

“What do we have here,” he whispered and slowed the cruiser. He noticed a car had wrecked, nose down in the ditch. He stopped the cruiser and turned to look behind him. “No skids,” he said too low for even Kelly to hear. Mike put the police cruiser into first and drove to the front of the line of police cars and parked.

“Kelly, I want you to stay in the car. Keep your eyes forward and lock the doors when I get out. All right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you need me for any reason,” Mike said sliding out of the door. He leaned inside. “Honk the horn.”

“Okay, Mike.”

Mike stood up and waited just long enough to witness Kelly locking all four doors. When she turned to face the front, he proceeded to make his way down the embankment and into the woods. Once off the road and level with the car he noticed its condition did not resemble a car driven from the road by accident. The car was only mildly dented and scratched. Not smashed. It appeared to have been pushed.

“What happened?” he asked one of the highway patrol officers.

Before the officer had a chance to answer, one of the officers from Springdale interjected. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m sorry,” Mike said. He extended his hand. “Mike Flannery, Middleton Police Department.”

“Out of your jurisdiction aren't you?” the Springdale man responded, ignoring the hand.

“Did you say, Middleton?” asked the older of the three highway patrolmen. Mike noticed the sergeant’s bars.

“That’s right,” Mike answered.

“I know Chief Broden. We worked a case together years back,” said the sergeant. “He’s a good man.”

“He is that,” nodded Mike.

“Name’s Moss,” the sergeant said extending his hand.

Mike hesitated at the name. “Good to know you,” Mike answered shaking the hand offered. “Do you mind if I take a look–”

“Of course we mind,” replied the Springdale officer. “This is Springdale’s jurisdiction-”

“Lighten up, Mark,” the sergeant said turning to the Springdale man. “I have a feeling this may be more his jurisdiction than any of ours. Come take a look deputy.”

Moss led Mike to the car. It was a midnight blue four-door Packard sedan. Kid-leather interior. This close it was clear the car had been beached. On the ground next to the sedan a body covered with a thin blanket rested. The officers had already removed it from behind the steering wheel. They were presently waiting for the coroner to arrive.

Sergeant Moss removed the blanket they had lain over the body to keep the bugs away. He watched as Mike examined the corpse. Moss could see Broden’s training in the young deputy. When Mike was through with the body he examined the car. Again great care was taken. Not a grain of dust was disturbed, yet the deputy had thoroughly examined every square inch of the vehicle. His investigation continued over every pouch and pocket the car possessed. Even the glove box was examined in minute detail. Moss smiled to himself. It was as though Rob Broden was right there with him.

“Well?” Moss asked. “Is it your man?”

Mike turned from the Packard. “He choked him first, followed by a quick shake of the head. Snapped the neck instantly. The way an animal does it. Mr. Vanderburgh there,” Mike indicated the body, “wasn’t killed here. No sign of a struggle and in order to get him here, Blackney would have to do the driving. A fine car like this... I seriously doubt Mr. Vanderburgh would willingly give up the keys to a stranger. There wasn’t enough time for him to score a firearm to hold the victim hostage. I would guess he is unarmed at this point. He may have a knife, but I doubt it... not his style. He likes to be personally involved with his kill–”

“You make him sound like an animal,” noticed the sergeant. 

“Little Kelly Broden calls him ‘the tiger.’ She’s the one who saw him kill. I think she knows better than most, what he is.”

“I heard about all that business. How is she?”

“She’s a tough kid. She’ll be fine.”

“So what else do you make of that,” the sergeant said, changing the subject. After being saddled with the Springdale boneheads all morning, the deputy’s approach was refreshing.

“Well, I think the reason he went light on this guy is that he didn’t want to mess up the clothes he stole off the body. This guy doesn’t look like the type to pick up a stranger in a prison uniform. My guess is Blackney scored some clothes somewhere between here and Melrose. They probably didn’t fit well, which is why Vanderburgh here bought it. Obviously the shoe size wasn’t a match,” Mike indicated the man’s Italian leather loafers still on the man’s feet. “Do you have someone patrolling for the actual murder site?”

“Not yet. Fixin’ to do that myself after the coroner gets here.”

“Could you send a report to Middleton?”

“Now just a minute,” interceded the Springdale man. “This is our case.”

Mike swung to face him. “What is the problem?” he demanded more than asked.

“You have no juris–”

“What does jurisdiction have to do with a report? I’m not arresting anyone.”

“I just think you should butt out of this case–”

“Listen, Mark is it? I’ve got a ten-year-old girl up there fearing for her life from the bastard that did that. If you want to cry jurisdiction, cry it somewhere else. Protecting that kid up there is my jurisdiction as well as responsibility! More so than yours. I’d love to turn that son-of-a-bitch over to you but I’d be afraid a jackass like you would completely fuck it up! Your case? Fuck you and your case!” Mike turned to Sergeant Moss. “Can I talk to you?”

Moss motioned him up the bank to the first highway patrol car in line. “Don’t let Mark get to you, son. He’s an ass and everybody know it- including him.”

“What’s his problem anyway? If I was in his shoes, I’d be begging for the help.”

Moss shrugged. “He’s never had a case that he could sink his teeth into. He’s bucking for promotion, and has nothing in his dossier. Capturing and returning an escaped psychopath, well that would about push him into the top slot.”

“Politics,” Mike muttered. “Son of a bitch. As if we don’t have enough to worry about.”

“I’ll make sure you get a copy of our report. It’d be a damn sight more accurate than anything those boneheads from Springdale can put together.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Mike said. 

The sergeant watched his face. He read doubt. “What is it?” Moss asked.

Mike turned towards his own car. He could see the blond hair of the back of Kelly’s head. She was still facing forward.

Mike returned his attention to the Sergeant. “I don’t understand why that car is there. Why didn’t he just drive it to where he wanted to go? The man was a salesman. Blackney would have known that. Hell, salesmen are the first to tell you what they do. Anyone could be a potential customer. And that Vanderburgh guy was successful. It would be weeks before the car could be traced as stolen. Why here? We thought he was going back to Middleton. Unfinished business is what the head shrinker said. Damn it Sergeant Moss, it doesn’t make sense.”

Moss baited. “He passed Middleton by for a reason.”

“He’s biding his time,” Mike said in a distracted voice. “Or he’s not headed to Middleton because he knows we’d expect him. If he drags it out long enough we might get careless. For god’s sake, he’s got all the time in the world.”

“Even so,” said Moss. “He picked this road for a reason. This direction. You said it yourself. He was the one that drove that car down there. He’s on the run, but he’s not aimless.”

Mike turned to face the older man. Moss saw Mike’s eyes widen as the facts clicked into place. “That’s right. He was headed this way on purpose. We were thinking it was Kelly he is after. Maybe he still is. But he’s already passed up Middleton. So he’s going somewhere else first. He’s going where I am headed now.”

“Where’s that?”

“To pick up his son, Hank. It was Hank’s testimony that put Blackney away.”

“You think he’s going to ask his son for help?”

“Hell no,” replied Mike. “That’s the last place he’d find help. I think he means to kill Hank.”

“His own son?”

“They stopped being father and son a long time ago.”

Mike left the sergeant and headed for the patrol car. He tapped on the glass to get Kelly’s attention. She slid over, unlocked the door, and then slid back in place. She was looking at him when he slipped in the car beside her, eyes bright, blue, and vulnerable.

She gave him an oppressed smile and returned her attention out the front window. Mike slid the car into gear and pulled out onto the deserted road. In his rearview he noticed a black sedan pull into the line of cars. The coroner.

Kelly was silent during the remainder of the trip to Bridgeport. Mike, for his own reasons, also remained quiet. His mind mulled over all the possibilities and implications of the recent murder site. It was twelve-fifteen before they pulled through the first checkpoint of the Bridgeport Correctional Institution.

The institution was a minimum-security facility. Mostly inmates convicted of white-collar crime were incarcerated here. It was a small prison that looked more like a college campus than a place that harbored convicts. Mike pulled up to the front gate. A guard booth was placed at the entrance to acknowledge those that crossed the line. Mike produced his credentials and gave Hank’s name as the prisoner for release. The guard looked Hank up on a roster and, once locating the name, ushered the deputy into the perimeter of the facility. After crossing two additional checkpoints, Mike was in a fenced-in parking area completely closed off from both the prisoners and the surrounding area by storm-fence and razor wire. Mike pulled up to the office complex adjacent to the parking lot. On the side of the brick building was a brass plaque inscribed with “Warden."

Mike parked the patrol car in front of the building and turned to Kelly.

“Stay here,” he said. “And again, lock the doors.”

She nodded and waited as he climbed from the car. He watched as she locked his door, and then turned towards the warden’s office.

The office was connected to the rest of the compound by a tunnel of razor wire and fencing. Mike passed through the tunnel behind the Warden. A large set of keys, held by an armed guard allowed them access to the compound. Flanked by an additional set of guards, Mike and the Warden entered the prison barracks.

Hank was sitting on a cot reading when Mike arrived at his cell; a small duffel sat next to him. Hank looked up.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mike explained. “There was a little road trouble.”

“No problem. I appreciate you doing this,” Hank told him, rising to his feet. He picked up the duffel and crossed the cell to the cell bars. One of the guards released him with a slight turn of a key. 

There was minor paper processing to do before Hank was completely free, and that was accomplished back at the Warden’s office after Hank was given the conditions of his parole. Once outside the office doors, Hank took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet air of freedom.

“So what’s next?” Mike asked him as Kelly unlocked the doors.

Kelly jumped out of the front seat to allow Hank the legroom.

“Hey, little sis,” Hank said turning to the child. “Did you come to see me home?”

“Uh-huh,” she said and gave him a bright smile.

“Well, I do appreciate it, sis,” he told her and smiled back. He crouched down level to the girl. “I’m sorry about what happened. I truly am.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll never be able to make that up to you. I’m ashamed of what I did. And I’m especially ashamed of what I said to you.”

Kelly looked at him closely. She reached out and hugged him, feeling his own arms circle her, hugging her back. “It’s okay, Hank,” she said quietly in his ear. “I forgive you.”

Hank squeezed a little tighter and let go. There were tears in his eyes. “I appreciate that. It means a lot to me.” Hank held the back door open for her. He waited as she climbed inside before slamming the door shut.

Mike guided the automobile out of the parking section, past the checkpoints and out onto the open road. All the while his eyes searched the surrounding countryside. An action that went unnoticed by either Hank or Kelly.

“So did ya miss me, sis?”

“I sure did, Hank. Mike won’t eat my carrots like you used to.”

“What?” asked Hank. He looked at Mike, who was turning several shades of red. “Won’t eat her carrots for her? Mike, ol’ pal,” Hank went on. “Didn’t anybody teach you that if you want to get in good with a girl, you have to get on the good side of their sisters? I guess dating has become a lost art after all. Maybe I should give you a few pointers, eh, chum?”

“Whatever you say, Chum.” Mike’s answer swung towards the caustic side.

Hank looked at him and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Hank shook his head. “Nothing, Mike.”

“So what are your plans now that you’re a free man?” Mike asked to change the subject.

“Well,” answered Hank. “I guess I need to get the Buick and the truck out of county hock, then drive over to Juvie and pick up Huey.”

“He at Springdale?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s on the way, Hank. I could swing by now and save you a trip.”

“I didn’t want to ask,” admitted Hank. “But I sure would appreciate it. I’d hate to leave him there longer than necessary.”

“Not a problem,” Mike said and drove down the road. “I’m only sorry I couldn’t do anything to keep him from going there.”

“You tried, that’s the important thing, right? So what’s happening in Middleton these days?” Hank asked, his tone light.

“You didn’t hear?” Mike asked as he glanced into the rear-view mirror to check on Kelly. Hank noticed the reflex.

“Hear what?”

Mike looked at Hank briefly before responding. “Your old man jumped his cage.”

The expression on Hank’s face alone was enough to prove that it was original news to him. 

“No,” he whispered. “When?”

Mike again darted a look at Kelly. Hank followed his glance.

“Last night, about 5:30,” Mike answered after returning his attention to the road.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” whispered Hank, too low for Kelly to hear. But Mike heard.

It was an hour’s ride to the Juvenile Home. The facility had originally been built with two wards- The Springdale Juvenile Home that housed mainly wards of the state that were not necessarily orphaned, but temporarily abandoned for many different reasons; and the Springdale Juvenile Delinquent Center that housed children accused and arrested for criminal activity. However, as hard times fell the area found itself with far more abandoned children than delinquents. It became increasingly more difficult to keep the children separated as the wards filled up and the funds dried up. Many innocent children now shared their rooms with boys accused of crimes, some as severe as manslaughter- and little was done to distinguish one group from the other.

Mike pulled the black and white into an unguarded parking lot. He parked next to a brown sedan with state plates and after shutting down the engine, turned to Kelly.

“You can come in this time,” he told her, convinced this facility was safer than an unguarded parking lot and knowing there was a chance the tiger lurked in the woods just beyond the parking area.

“I’ll stay here, Mike,” she answered from the back seat. “I don’t want to go in there.”

Hank had noticed Mike scanning the woods when they pulled into the lot. And again when he shut down the car. It didn’t take much intuition to assess the danger.

“Tell you what, Mike,” he said. “Why don’t I go in and get him. I already had a lawyer draw up all the appropriate paperwork, its right here.” he indicated the duffel. “You can stay with her.”

“You sure you won’t need any help?”

“There shouldn’t be any problem,” Hank answered.

Mike watched from the car as Hank disappeared into the brownstone building. He turned to Kelly. “You okay, Squirt?”

“Yes, sure, Mike, why?”

Mike shrugged. “Its a blue day, isn’t it?”

Kelly nodded, her blue eyes filled with tears. “I feel ‘im, Mike. Like he’s there... hunting me. I can’t shake it.”

Mike sighed. “I know. But it’s going to be okay. We’ll catch him. Don’t worry.”

Kelly swallowed. “Okay, Mike.” 

Mike leaned over the seat and took her hand. “I mean it, Squirt.”

Kelly nodded and looked through the front window passed Mike.

Mike turned around as the front door opened and Hank returned with his brother in tow. He pushed his way out of the squad car and opened the back door to let the boy inside. Neither he, nor Hank noticed the vehement stare Huey flashed Kelly, nor her flushing under it. Neither noticed how Kelly shoved her way deeper into the car towards the opposite end of the seat to escape the boy’s fierce glare.

Hank returned to his side of the Chevrolet, opened the door and seated himself next to Mike. As Mike pulled out of the parking area, Hank began to question Huey about his time at the Home. Mike noted the genuine concern Hank expressed for his brother’s welfare. Mike wondered what that kind of caring was like.

It took just a few miles for Hank to learn that Huey’s time had been rough. For this, Hank blamed himself. It had been his mistakes that had placed the boy in the Home in the first place. He could feel the scars of guilt as the boy talked about his experiences at the Home. About the boys who made knives, used them to steal from the other, weaker children. About the gangs they formed to keep from being victimized by their peers. And as the boy talked, Hank sensed the change in him. He had become hardened, almost brutish, emotionless, as he relayed the events. Hank could tell that Mike noticed the change also. Then Huey fell silent.

Hank felt the crush of that silence as though a blanket smothered him with shame, failure, and guilt. He pushed those emotions aside and concentrated on the road before him. Then he asked Mike, “How is Maggy?”

“Fine,” Mike answered after a measured glance at Hank.

“So you two are dating?”

Mike looked at him. Then after returning his gaze to the road, he said, “Really none of your business.”

Hank laughed. “No, it really isn’t. But then I have a small town mentality. I like to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong. To stay involved in other people’s lives as much as possible to forget my own sorry one.”

“Is that so?”

“Let’s have it, Mike.”

“I really don’t think this is appropriate conversation,” Mike said and glanced in the rear-view for Kelly. But she was no longer in view.

“I just want to know that she’s all right.”

“She’s fine.”

“Then you are going out?”

Mike shot a glance at Hank. “All right. All right, yeah, we’re going out.”

Hank smiled. “I knew it’d work out for you. I’m really glad, Mike. I always knew Maggy deserved better.” Hank turned and looked out the window.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike asked growing confused. Realizing that Hank had used the exact words Mike had used mere months ago, when describing Hank’s relationship with Maggy. When he thought Hank was the man to give Maggy the future she deserved. A future Mike would never be able to afford.

Hank threw up his arms, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Mike turned. Hank was slouched in the seat, his knees resting on the dash, legs dangling below, arms folded in his lap. He was wearing a starched white shirt and blue jeans. He wasn’t the same man Mike had once considered an “ass-hole.” He couldn’t tell if Hank had changed because of prison, but he doubted that. Prison usually changed a man for the worse, despite the fudged rehabilitation reports. Mike believed it was the removal of the burden of Hank’s secret life that left him to be more himself. In this man, Mike felt he could actually find a friend.

“Do you love her?” Hank asked.

“Yes,” Mike answered without hesitation.

“That’s good to hear,” Hank said, then looked up from his hands. “Because if you were just stringing that girl along, I’d have to hurt ya.”

At that Mike looked over at Hank. This time it was Mike who laughed.

“Can we change the subject now?” Mike asked.

“It was just getting interesting.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Both men were far too wrapped up in their conversation and their own thoughts to notice Huey slide closer to Kelly. He moved with the style and slink of a wild cat. After he had achieved the difference between him and the girl he unfolded his palm. Resting beneath the fingers was a small hand-made knife. He showed it to the girl and put the index finger of his free hand to his lips.

When Huey was sure Kelly understood he moved closer, eyeing the front seat to make sure the men were still involved in their bull-shit conversation about the bitch's older sister. They were. It made Huey sick to listen to his brother: the betrayer of his father, of their family– of their life!. His father had disowned Hank. He had told Huey as much the night before when he came to Huey’s window.

His father had told Huey what he expected him to do– instill fear. He would do that now. Huey’s father said what was to be: he and Huey would live together forever once scores were settled. Together as a family. As father and son. Once those scores were settled.

Huey leaned closer to Kelly, his knife pressed to her side, just above the top snap of her faded overalls. The pressure of the knife was enough to cut through her shirt; the blade kissed her skin. He put his lips to her ear and whispered. He told her of his father’s plans.

Kelly tried to pull away, but Huey pushed the blade deeper and cut a shallow scratch in her side. She could feel the sting of the cold steel, and the wetness of her blood. She was cornered in the back seat. Huey’s eyes were that of the tiger, she had seen that when he got into the car. Now he had claws and threats. She didn’t dare try for Mike’s attention. Huey could just as easily slide the knife into Mike’s back. But she couldn’t stay trapped this way either. She couldn’t bear up under the weight of his words, or the sharp pain of the blade at her side. She tried for inside. She moved as far into the door as possible and turned away from Huey. She looked out into the moving blur, focusing on nothing, making the world appear to move even faster. But Huey’s words continued to trap her, and prevent her from even the sanctuary inside her mind. “Your father’s next...your father’s next...your father’s...” Kelly’s eyes filled with tears as she stared blankly out the window mesmerized by the flow of the world whipping by.

“You know, a while back I heard your old man cut out on you?”

“Boy,” Mike noticed. “You go from one sore subject to the next. Maybe you ought to brush up on your people skills.”

“Yeah, I know. In prison everyone is so wracked for something new and different to talk about that conversational boundaries don’t even exist. So is it true?”

Mike took his time to answer. Deciding whether to tell Hank something so gut-wrenchingly personal. Something he had buried a long time ago. He had never forgiven his father for leaving him, especially the way he had done it. Mike took a deep breath.

“One day...my father came home from work; he took me aside and asked if I wanted to go for a drive with him. I was six at the time. He was drunk–”

“Of course. They always are,” put in Hank.

“You want to hear this or not?”

“Yeah. I’m listening.”

“Well I went with him. I didn’t like him driving when he was like that; a drunk ran down my mother when I was four. It was just me and the old man after that.”

“Probably my old man that ran her over,” mused Hank.

“If you’re going to keep butting in–”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“We got in my father’s Ford and drove west, away from town. As we went he told me how he’d lost his job. The mortgage on the house had been overdue for months. They were taking the house the next day. He went on and on about his hard luck. How all I did was want things from him. Clothes, food, shelter, you know, the usual things spoiled brats wanted,” Mike’s voice was becoming bitter as he remembered the drive. It was hot. Steam from the dirt road rose in wavy lines. The road appeared wet from a distance only to become dusty dry as the distance was met. Passing cars wavering in the steam to appear as though underwater.

“Then, about 200 miles later, halfway through the desert, he pulls to the side of the highway and tells me to get out.”

Hank looked at him. Mike could feel Hank’s eyes burning into him, staring a hole through to his brain. Mike’s skull itched.

“Just like that?” Hank finally asked. His voice betrayed a new awareness, even a little camaraderie.

“Just like that,” Mike answered.

“Shit,” whispered Hank. “He waited until you were halfway into the desert?”

“I guess he wanted to make sure I didn’t follow him. Find him. I don’t know. It didn’t matter. A farmer picked me up and drove me to the next town.”

“Didn’t matter, huh?”

“Nope,” Mike said, still lost in the retrospect. He had seen his father’s flat bed parked at a bar when the farmer dropped him off. He had gone to the window to peer in. His father was seated on a round stool in front of the bar. From Mike’s angle he could see his father’s profile, the mug of beer and the whiskey shot that sat in front of him. His father did not see him. Mike turned and walked away. He never looked back.

“I never told anyone that story.”

“Why’d you tell me?” Hank asked.

“I guess I finally figured out that it just doesn’t matter.”

Hank was silent. He had run out of conversation. Something he never thought would happen on the outside. He thought about his own father. He was out now. Somewhere. And Mike had Kelly with him. Hank thought that was strange when he saw her get out of the car to allow him the front seat. He guessed Mike was guarding her for the day. Chief Broden had reason to believe her in danger. Hank was afraid Chief was correct in that belief. After Mary-Lou’s death his father had changed, or maybe it was before Mary-Lou was killed. It had all been gradual until that killing. He watched as his father slowly slipped away. His mood swings became more frequent, his darker mood remaining a little longer each time. Each kill was worse than the last; and the constant preoccupation with the Broden’s. With Kelly Broden in particular.

It was miles down the road before Hank spoke, his voice quiet, almost brooding. “Did you ever stop to think,” he said, “that maybe... maybe your old man’s ditching you was probably the kindest thing he could have done for you?”

“No,” Mike answered. “I never thought about it that way.”

“I wish mine was that kind,” Hank whispered to the front windshield.

Again silence filled the black and white as it covered the miles.

“There’s a café up ahead about a quarter of a mile,” Mike remarked, breaking the silence. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving. What do ya say? My treat.”

“I couldn’t let you do that,” answered Hank. “I’ve got some green. I’ll buy, to pay you back for the ride.”

“You’re going to need that to fix up that shack of yours. Chief gave me some bills this morning. Like usual, he gave too much.”

“All right,” Hank said. “But I get the option to pay you back.”

Mike looked at him. “You? You still haven’t paid your parking ticket from a year ago.”

“Oh great. Bring that up again.”

“What do you say, Squirt?” Mike asked over his shoulder. “You hungry?”

There was no answer, which caused Hank to turn in his seat. Kelly was staring aimlessly out the window. Hank had to catch his breath. The expression, or rather lack of an expression, he remembered well. He shifted his attention to his bother who was pretending not to notice Kelly’s indifference. His very manner excreted guilt.

“What did you say to her?” Hank asked him.

Huey looked at him and did an intentionally bad job at feigning innocence. This enraged Hank.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HER!” Hank screamed at him, emphasizing every word.

“What’s going on?” asked Mike, who couldn’t see Kelly from his position in the front seat.

Hank turned to him. “I think you’d better pull over.” 

Mike pulled to the side of the road and threw the stick into neutral. He turned to notice Kelly was behind Hank pushed up against the door.

“Squirt?” Mike said. He still failed to get her attention. She portrayed only the empty stare.

Hank reached behind him and gently pulled her chin until she faced him.

Both men saw the tears well up in her eyes until they filled the socket and cascaded down her cheeks.

“Kel–” Mike started, but before he could finish she shoved the door open, spilling onto the dirt from the sheer force and desperation of her flight. She was five yards away before Mike had his own door open.

Mike ran after her and caught her just before she could duck into the woods. He grabbed her by the elbow and centrifugal force swung her around to face him. Seeing him she jumped into his arms and buried her head into his chest.

Mike looked back at the car. Huey was out of his seat and Hank had him cornered against the front of the car. 

“What did you say to her!” he screamed again.

“I didn’t say nothin’!”

“Liar! You said something all right. You’d better tell me what!”

“Or what!”

Hank grabbed the boy by the shoulders and pinned him against the car.

“Tell me!” he screamed, his face inches from the boy’s.

“You don’t scare me. Pa’ll fix you!”

“Fuck Pa! What did you say to sis?”

“You care more about that bitch and her stinkin’ family than you do about me or pa. Fuck you!”

At that Hank struck the boy, hard across the cheek. From where Mike stood he could hear the blow.

Huey broke away from his older brother. Tears in his eyes, he held his face. The bruise was already rising.

“My god,” whispered Hank. “What have I done?”

Huey whipped back to face his brother, venom in his eyes. “You want to know what I said. Fine! I told her the truth. Pa’s gonna get her! He told me. He’s gonna get her and rip her stinkin’ head off! Just like that Preacher!” Huey  brutally glared at Hank. Saliva dripped from his mouth. “Just like your bitch! That Mary-Fucking-Lou!”

“Hue-”

“He’s gonna pay her back!” Huey went on. “Her and YOU! He’s gonna get you too, Hank. You betrayed us! You fell into bed with them. You’re not part of this family!”

“You’re not part of that family either, Hugh. Dammit, not you! I’ll kill him for this. Not you Huey!” Hank shouted. There was pain in his eyes at seeing his failure. He had tried to protect his brother from their father’s curse. But now, in the end, that taint had reached the boy; his father had come to claim him.

“And that’s not all I tol’ that little bitch,” Huey raved on. “Her father’s next!”

Mike felt Kelly tighten. He rubbed her back to calm her, but she tried to twist free.

“Pa’s gonna get him too! Then we’ll be a family. Me an’ him. Not you,” he turned to Hank. “’Cause you’ll be dead– rotting on the ground. Rat-bastard!”

“Is that what you want?” Hank asked his brother. “You want Pa to kill me? Like the others?”

“You broke up the family, Hank,” Huey said. The force of his ranting subsided. His eyes again welled tears. His voice became a whine. “Why Hank? ... Why’d you do him that way? Why’d you break us up like that?”

“I didn’t Hugh,” Hank answered, his voice powerful and unwavering. “He did! Can’t you see that? He did it to us. Let him go, Hugh. We’ll be a family. You and me.”

“Go away! You’re not my father!” Huey screamed and tried to run. But Hank had him by the arm. He pulled him back and slammed him against the car.

“Damn it Hugh!”

“Let me go! You just wait. Pa’ll fix all of you!”

Kelly twisted free at Huey’s last statement. But she did not try to run from Mike. She calmly looked at Hank and Huey. Huey’s eyes were directed at her.

“Especially you,” he said calmly, but with intense malice. “Pa especially wants you. You caused all of this. You turned my brother against Pa and me. It was you. And Pa’s gonna fix you for sure!”

“Don’t you know? Couldn’t you tell?” Kelly asked from Mike’s arms. “Your pa’s dead.”

At that all eyes were on her. Nobody was prepared for her next statement: “The tiger killed him.” There was no infliction in the tone. It was a plain statement with incredible ramifications.

“You’re lying. It isn’t true! I saw him– he came to see me. My pa came to see–”

“That wasn’t yer pa, Huey. It was the tiger, couldn’t you tell? He’s using you,” Kelly told him calmly.

“Shut up!” screamed Huey. “He’s not dead, you’re crazy.”

“I’m sorry, Huey,” Kelly said. There was a note of sadness in her voice. “I wish it weren’t true, either.”

At that Huey tried to lunge, but Hank held him in place, fighting off the boy’s struggling by sheer size.

Mike removed his hands from Kelly’s shoulder. In her bare sleeves she was shaking from the cold and he had intended to give her his jacket. It was then that he noticed the blood- a dark red smudge on the girl’s shoulder where his hand had been. He looked at his palm and saw the blood there. It wasn’t his.

“Kelly,” Mike said softly. She looked at him. “Are you hurt?”

He bent down to examine her when he saw the blood on her side. “What happened?” he asked. 

Kelly noticed the same note of concern that usually came form her father.

She looked down at the red stain on her white cotton tshirt. Then she looked back at Mike. Calmly and dispassionately she said, “Huey’s got a knife.”

Mike glanced over at Huey and Hank just in time to see Huey reach behind him in an awkward manner. He saw the sudden flash of steel as it caught the sunlight.

“He’s got a knife!” he shouted at Hank.

Hank pivoted on his right heel in time to dodge the upward slice of the blade. He grabbed Huey by the wrist of his knife hand and slammed the hand against the side of the patrol car. Huey would not let go. Hank slammed his brother’s hand again, with more force, and again even harder until finally the boy relinquished the blade. It fell with a thud to the ground where it lay, impotent.

“Is this what it comes down to?” roared Hank. “Look at us! My god, Huey,” Hank said. He looked back at Mike. His expression was one of complete dejection. He looked at the knife on the ground, then at his own two hands. He hadn't completely dodged the upper slice of the knife and his forearm was bleeding from a shallow wound.

“This is my legacy,” he said to Mike, the pain cut so deep in his face that Mike wanted to turn away. “This is what my father left me.”

Huey was also looking at the ground. He had just tried to kill his brother. Tears seeped from his eyes and dripped aimlessly to the ground, only to come to rest next to the knife he had made in the Home. All the fight had drained from him. He wrenched the back door open of the black and white Chevy and crawled into the back seat.

Mike examined Kelly’s wound once the shouting had stopped. He noticed it was shallow and not severe. He’d have the doctor give the child a tetanus shot when they returned to Middleton. Hank was still leaning against the side of the patrol car.

“Do you want some time to talk to him?”

Hank looked up, his eyes moist. “No,” he said. “We’ll do that when we get home.”

Mike nodded. He led the girl back to the car where he retrieved the first aid supplies from the trunk. Mike proceeded to disinfect and temporarily bandage the wound. Once he had finished, he looked up to notice that Hank was still leaning against the side of the car, staring at the ground.

Mike pulled up on his way to the front. “We need to slap a bandage on your arm, too, Hank?”

Hank looked at the shallow cut on his arm. The blood was already clotting. He shook his head and returned to the deputy.

“Not necessary.”

“Hank,” Mike interjected. “If you need somebody to talk–”

“I know where to find you,” Hank finished before pulling the door to the back seat open, he looked up at Mike. “Thanks,” he said. “For more than you know.” Hank slid next to his brother, who was looking dead ahead, focusing on nothing relative to the outside world.

Mike led Kelly to the passenger door of the front seat. He opened it for her and helped her inside. She sat quietly, staring straight ahead into the dying sun.

The black and white pulled away from the curb and into the deserted country highway. They headed into the sun and Mike pulled his sunglasses free from his breast pocket. He shook them to open them before securing them on the bridge of his nose.

Tire tracks were left behind at their departure. A small hand-fashioned blade sat benignly next to them. On it was a small drop of salty water that caught the sunlight and split it into a rainbow of colors.

A beefy hand reached to the ground and picked up the knife. It noticed the water and wiped the blade clean on a pinstriped sleeve.

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.