Page 76 of Forever Gone

Rain had fallen most of that morning. Connor sat in the passenger seat of the old pickup, holding a paper bag of sweets his mother had told him not to finish before they arrived. His father drove with one elbow against the door and the radio tuned to a ball game.

The deer came from the right.

There had been a heavy impact, followed by the sound of something striking the side of the truck. Connor remembered the bag leaving his lap. Sweets scattered beneath the dashboard. His father stopped, swore once, then reached behind the seat for the rifle he kept there during hunting season.

The deer lay near the center line, trying to rise.

One rear leg bent beneath it at the wrong angle. Blood ran from its nostrils and mixed with the rain. Connor’s father ordered him to remain in the truck.

He got out, walked close, and fired.

The sound passed through the cab as if the doors were open.

Afterward, his father dragged the animal to the roadside. Connor watched through the rain-streaked window as the body slid over the pavement. One of the deer’s eyes remained open, catching the gray light. It seemed to follow them when his father returned to the truck.

The rifle went behind the seat.

His father sat for several seconds without starting the engine.

“That had to be done,” he said.

Connor nodded because he understood that an answer was expected.

They drove on. Neither of them mentioned the deer again. His father turned the ball game back up and told Connor to pick the sweets from the floor before they melted into the rubber mat.

Connor had loved him. The man taught him to fish, change a tire, and hold his ground when other boys tried to push him around. Parenting had not come naturally to him. Tenderness arrived disguised as instruction, and fear was something a boy was expected to swallow before anyone noticed.

The SUV’s radio cracked with static.

Connor jerked upright and struck his knee beneath the steering column.

“Sheriff, come in.”

Cheryl’s voice filled the cab.

He grabbed the handset. “Go ahead.”

“Where are you?”

Connor retrieved the paper from the floor. “Out looking for numbers in a haystack.”

A pause followed. “What does that mean?”

“I got the coordinates from Mercer’s cell-phone company. They told me where Linda’s phone last connected to the network. I’m somewhere west of Talon Road trying to decide whether their idea of precise matches mine.”

“Any sign of her?”

“Not yet.”

The paper trembled slightly between his fingers. Connor set it on the passenger seat.

Cheryl said, “I hope you find her.”

“She might’ve ditched the phone. She was pretty pissed at her husband when she left.”

“Men are trying.”

“That cuts both ways.”