Page 80 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
We leave Sandy’s body where it lies and go back to meet up with Mr. Rogers. We arrive at the meeting spot to find he’s already there with the other security guy and a third one, a young Black man I believe I’ve seen before.
When we arrive, Joe takes Mr. Rogers aside to tell him what we found. Then Rogers returns and tells both of the other security guys to stay right there, awaiting further instructions.
Rogers looks from me to Dalton, and says, “Well, you two might as well come along.”
We do that. There’s no conversation on the way. Joe must have mentioned that we have a child missing, and yet Rogers says nothing about that. Not his concern. And now that we’ve found his missing man, I have to wonder whether we’ve made the wrong play here.
We wanted to lead him to the dead man so we could get answers, and also so we didn’t need to worry about avoiding that area in our own search—which we aren’t going to do when Sandy’s murder is almost certainly connected to Max’s disappearance.
But by finding Sandy, we’ve incinerated our excuse for searching off our own territory. We can’t say we’re also looking for their man. Therefore, if they grant us permission to hunt for Max there, it’s a favor, and these are not people I want to owe a favor.
I won’t worry about that now. Whether Rogers allows it or not, we’ll search where we need to search. The only question is whether we ask permission.
Finally we reach the spot. We let Joe and Rogers go in first. There’s no curse of shock or disgust or grief. No sound at all.
We follow and stay on the periphery, keeping Storm with us.
Rogers turns to us. “I will admit that I know nothing about life in a place like this. Can I presume I’m looking at signs of an animal attack? Something with claws? A bear or big cat?”
“May I come closer?” I ask.
He nods, and I leave Storm with Dalton as I approach. I bend beside the body and examine the wounds.
“They’re clean cuts,” I say. “That’s not consistent with an animal attack.” I glance at Dalton.
“Yeah, I don’t even need to come closer,” Dalton says. “No animal did that. Something’s been eating him”—there are more signs of that today—“but those other wounds don’t make any sense for a predator. They’re going for your throat or your belly. Not carving up your back.”
“Looks like a blade,” I say.
“Hunting knife maybe?” Dalton says.
I shake my head. “Too small for that.”
“What about his own knife?” Dalton looks at Rogers. “We were told he had a pocketknife.”
“Possibly?” I say. “The wounds seem a little large for a pocketknife. The weapon isn’t large, but it’s not small either.”
“The guy who attacked him had a knife,” Joe offers. “That’s what he said.”
I hesitate, parsing that. Clearly whoever attacked Sandy here had a knife. But that can’t be what Joe means.
“Wait,” Dalton says. “This is the guy who saw the fellow in the bearskin?”
Rogers turns a very cold look on Joe, one that promises disciplinary action for that slip. Then Rogers hesitates. I catch the look he sneaks our way, assessing and deciding, and I pretend not to see it, solemnly intent on the wounds of the dead man before us.
“Yes,” Rogers says finally. “This is the employee who had a run-in with our local shaman. That isn’t a coincidence. After his encounter, we asked our men to stay inside the settlement limits unless going out to work. However, we did not enforce it. They are adults capable of making their own decisions, and I believe in allowing people to do that. Free will and self-determination.”
I say nothing. I also believe in free will and self-determination, while placing public safety above that. If this man—Sandy—chose to enter the forest after seeing what was out there, that’s his choice, right? If a resident of Haven’s Rock chooses to go into the forest after being warned, that’s their choice, right?
Seems logical. But how many times has someone broken our rules only to find themselves in danger and, on being rescued, blamed us for not being clear enough? And if we couldn’t have been clearer? Then why the hell were we—the experts—trusting newcomers to judge their own safety in the wilderness?
We must also acknowledge that someone breaking our rules isn’t only endangering themselves. People—including us—have been hurt finding them. They also run the risk of stirring up trouble—with predators or humans—that can follow them back to town.
Giving Rogers the benefit of the doubt, he’s treating his employees like adults and doesn’t have the experience to know that Sandy could have riled up someone in the forest who will now be a danger to everyone.
So I don’t react to his little speech. I just wait for him to go on. When he doesn’t, I say, in a neutral tone, “You’d advised the workers not to go out, given the circumstances, and this employee—the one who originally saw the bearskin-wearing man—didn’t listen.”
“He wanted another sighting,” Joe says.
