Page 41 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
“I am with a patient,” April says.
“Your sister.” It’s Kendra’s voice. “I know. She’s needed at the town hall.”
“She is presently occupied—”
“It’s important.”
I stand. “I’d better go.”
“It will take two minutes to test—”
“Whatever the results are, they won’t help me bring Max home,” I say, and hurry out the front to follow Kendra.
* * *
“Yolanda found it,” Kendra says as we walk. “She sent me to grab you and Eric, but someone saw him heading out with Storm and you heading to the clinic.”
I don’t ask what was found. Maybe she’s waiting for that obvious question, but whatever it is, I want to see it before I hear more. Get a clean first impression.
When I notice movement in the forest, I stutter-step to a halt. My brain screams, “Max!” Then I see Storm’s bulky form and try not to be disappointed.
“Eric!” I call. “We’re needed at the town hall.”
He cuts through the thin barrier of trees and catches up just as we reach the building. Kendra murmurs that she’ll head back to the search party, and we climb the steps.
Yolanda is alone in the town hall. She’s seated at the desk, and if I inwardly grumble that it’s our desk, then that’s only proof of how upset I am after that conversation with April.
The fact that April’s right only makes it worse. I should have gotten those gynecological answers. The only thing stopping me was my own fear. If I didn’t get answers, I could keep hoping that initial diagnosis was wrong or my body had repaired whatever damage had been done, and whenever we wanted kids, we could have them.
Which is not what I need to be thinking about now.
Yolanda rises as we come in, and she steps from behind the desk. There’s a bag in her hand. A clear plastic bag. Inside is a piece of paper.
“This was under the door,” she says. “It wasn’t there twenty minutes ago. I went out to grab my morning snack”—she waves to a coffee on the desk—“and it was here when I got back.”
I read the note.
ask dana where her son is.
“For fuck’s sake,” Dalton growls. He turns to Anders. “Tell me that whoever was keeping Louie under house arrest screwed up.”
“Because otherwise,” I murmur, “we have an even bigger problem to deal with.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kenny was the one assigned to Louie-watch. We have a house-arrest apartment set up for exactly this purpose. It’s windowless, with a single door. That door leads into a small room where, if we deem it necessary, someone can stand guard.
Down south, Kenny was a high-school math teacher. In Rockton, he was the town carpenter and head of the militia, and he’ll continue the former here for certain and the latter if we decide we need a militia, which I suspect we will. He’s grown close to April, and if I’m hoping they’ll grow closer still, well, that’s taking a while.
Louie is inside. Kenny swears he didn’t drift off. When he’d gotten sleepy, he’d worked on carpentry designs for a chest he wants to build for my organization-loving sister. That kept his mind active, which meant he stayed awake. There’s also no sign that Louie left.
I still bring Louie to the town hall for questioning. Giving me something to focus on keeps me from dwelling on the fact that I don’t feel good … and the likely reason for it.
I sit behind the desk. Louie glances around. He’s clearly looking for Dalton, who left again, searching with Storm.
“It’s just us.” I lift my phone. “And a voice recorder.”
“How come you guys get phones?”
