Page 102 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
The anguish in Dana’s eyes slices through me. Carson hurt his brother, but I don’t think we’re dealing with a bullying older sibling. Just a kid who’s going through a lot and lashing out. Unfortunately, the person he’s lashing out at most is the least deserving target. Dana will deal with that.
“So you went for a closer look,” I say. “To prove Carson was wrong.”
“No. I was mad, but I knew better. I saw the bear-man to the west, and I went in the forest to the south. I wasn’t going near him. I was just mad and wanted to get away from everyone.”
“And then?”
“The bear-man grabbed me. I never even heard him coming.”
“Are you sure it was the bear-man?”
He nods. “When I was grabbed, I saw claws and felt fur.”
We continue talking. Max explains that the bear-man carried him wrapped in a blanket, probably to stifle his scent. He’d put him down and make him walk now and then, and then carry him again. Messing up the trail for Storm. From the time Max was grabbed, he was gagged and blindfolded with his hands and feet tied.
“At some point, he took your jacket. Can you tell me about that?”
“He took it before he tied me up.”
“We found it in a clearing. He’d hung it up. Did he…” I struggle to word this without leading Max. “It was hung in a strange way. Do you know anything about that?”
“He took my jacket. That’s all I know.”
“Did he say anything about it?” I ask.
“He never talked.”
“Not at all?”
Max starts to shake his head and then pauses. “He told me to stay when he left the shack. It was just that one word. Stay. Oh, and he did say something when he grabbed me the second time—after I escaped. As he was strangling me, he said, ‘Sorry, kid. I hate to do this, but you’re too big a risk to—’ I didn’t hear the rest. That’s when I remembered I had a knife.”
“As he strangled you?” Dana repeats, her own voice strangled.
“I got away,” Max says matter-of-factly. “I stabbed him in the leg.”
I glance at Dalton, who has been silently standing in the corner.
“I need to ask you more about that,” I say. “I’m going to pretend to be you, and Eric is going to pretend to be your attacker. Can you lead me through what happened? Guide us, like you’re directing actors in a scene.”
Max does that. We take it step by step through the scenario. Once I have it figured out, I ask whether Max saw anything of the man during that encounter. It isn’t much. He was grabbed from behind and only caught a few details—that the man was wearing a bearskin, that his hands were the size of Dalton’s and that his skin was pale—like the flash of skin he’d seen when the man’s sleeve rode up before.
After that, I back up to get everything I can from the time he was held captive. I take down all those details, and I add them to what we know from the initial bear-man sighting—that the man in the bearskin was tall and broad, maybe even heavyset. Strong enough to carry a ten-year-old boy a long way, too.
Male. White. At least six feet tall. Muscular and possibly heavyset.
We continue talking. I get everything I can about all three attacks—when Max was first grabbed, when he was grabbed near Lilith’s cabin, and when he was nearly grabbed the last time.
Then comes the question I need to ask, as hard as it is. I have Dalton leave for that, and when I do, Max starts to fidget, as if he knows what’s coming.
The moment Dalton is outside, Dana says, “The man didn’t do anything, but he was going to.”
I look at her, and her mouth sets in a firm line. “I know you need that information from Max, but we’ve already talked.”
I consider. Then I ask Max to go outside with Dalton for a few minutes. This isn’t going to be a court case, and even if it were, I could take Dana’s statement first.
Once Max is gone, she exhales. “Thank you. That makes it easier. Max wasn’t touched sexually. The man didn’t undress him. He didn’t make Max touch him. But I think he was heading in that direction.”
She says that and then watches, waiting for me to challenge her, to demand proof, to ask how she could possibly know it when she hadn’t been there.
