Page 29 of Mountain Man

I scrolled Reg’s number and got his voice mail. I tried again, then texted him. “Um…would you like me to contact your wife?”

“Rosie? No. Call the police. Chief Gorman will know what to do.”

Gorman?

I made a third attempt at Reg’s cell before googling the police station’s main number and asking to speak to the chief. Of course, he wasn’t in. The desk sergeant had questions for me, though. Was this an emergency? If so, call 9-1-1. If not, what was the nature of my call? Did I require medical assistance? Did I require legal counsel? Was I reporting a crime?

I hung up and called Cooper instead. He answered, thank fuck, and he was appropriately alarmed when I explained the issue, walking out of earshot to avoid upsetting Mr. La Rue.

“Oh, man. I’m in Fallbrook. Call Reg. I’ll forward his contact info. If he doesn’t answer, get Shawna to track him down. I’m sorry this⁠—”

The buzz of an incoming call interrupted him. I unceremoniously disconnected Coop’s call to pick it up. “Reg?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s Waylon. Look, I’m with your dad on the trail at the four-mile mark to Elmwood and⁠—”

“You’re with my dad?”

“I was jogging and⁠—”

“Okay. I know,” he intercepted. “I mean…I didn’t know you were jogging. We have a tracker on Dad, and it’s obviously not doing a damn bit of good. But I’m here. It’ll just take me a few minutes to reach you. Would you stay with him?”

“Of course.”

Mr. La Rue raised his bushy brows in question as I rejoined him in front of the sign. “I hope they’re taking this seriously. Are they sending an officer to investigate?”

“Yes. Someone is on the way.”

“Hmph. They take their sweet time, don’t they? Nothing’s an emergency unless it’s bleeding. Preventive measures save lives. You have to teach folks the right way, or they’ll make the same mistakes over and over and over and⁠—”

“Hey, Dad! I found you.” Reg bounded through thick foliage, his chest heaving as if he’d run a mile in under a minute. Like me, he was dressed in workout shorts and a T-shirt. While I admired his muscular quads and broad chest, I had a feeling his father would have preferred to see someone in uniform. Anyone.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled.

“I was looking for you,” Reg replied. “So was Mom. She thought you were watching TV.”

“I was, and then I went for a walk and saw this.” Mr. La Rue pointed at the sign, affecting an annoyed stance, though the fight seemed to go out of him like air from a freshly slashed tire.

“Four miles to Elmwood,” Reg read. “There used to be a white rock here with the number four painted on it. The original marker is half-hidden in the bushes now. We all carved our initials on it.”

“Yeah…I remember.” The defeated cast of his heavy gaze suggested otherwise.

“That floating dock in the lake is new, too. We didn’t have one in Wood Hollow till last summer. The one in Elmwood was so rotten, we got splinters every time we climbed on,” Reg rambled in a low soothing tone.

Father and son stood staring out at the water. To the casual observer, they might have been tracking the graceful glide of a great blue heron or taking in the sunset. But this was something else. A reversal of roles in slow sequence. A steady hand gently guiding a loved one out of harm’s reach, anchoring him with familiarity and soft-spoken reminiscence. It was kindness personified.

I froze, keenly aware that I was intruding on an intensely private moment. I didn’t want to make any sudden movements and break the spell. I kept quiet and waited for it to pass.

Eventually, Reg gestured toward town and offered his dad a ride home. It was more of a statement rather than an offer, but his words were so artfully chosen that it would have been impossible to refuse. I made room for them to pass by and met Reg’s grateful smile with a slight nod.

The exchange left me shaken.

I moved to where father and son had stood and surveyed the shoreline and the sun resting on the horizon like a ball of fire, releasing my breath on a slow exhale. I wished there was something I could do, but it wasn’t my place.

However, when I got home, I called my dad. Just because.

CHAPTER 10