Page 50 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
“Yes.”
“We know he could be dangerous. We also are concerned that Lilith doesn’t seem to be home.”
“Yes.”
“But if I were going to kidnap a kid, and I knew the kid reported seeing Bigfoot in the woods? Hell, yeah, I’d use that.”
“Keep us chasing phantoms out here while they negotiate with Dana.”
“Yep.”
* * *
We’re back in town. We don’t call in the other searchers. We aren’t certain enough about our theory for that. We act as if we just came back to grab dinner, which we’ll eat at home before heading back out. Only we don’t head back out.
Instead, we make a call.
With Rockton, we were expected to report everything to the council, and we did our best to avoid it. The council wasn’t there to advise us. It wasn’t there to make the hard choices for us. It wasn’t even there to reprimand us when we misbehaved—though it did plenty of that. Mostly, it seemed to exist to tell us to stop. Whatever we were doing, stop.
Worried about the hostiles? Batten down the hatches and avoid them. Want to better understand what caused them? Stop. Just stop.
A resident goes missing? Sure, look for them, but not at the expense of letting town responsibilities slide because the missing person made their own choice to cross the town border. Insist on searching even when hope seems gone? Stop. Just stop.
A resident turns up dead? Suspicious circumstances? Are you sure they’re suspicious? Maybe you’re overthinking this. Insist on digging deeper? Stop. Just stop.
They had so much to hide, more than I think we ever fully understood. But living in Rockton had been a constant battle of wills, and our only saving grace was that the council was an absentee landlord. Sure, we were supposed to report to them, but what they didn’t know never did hurt them—and telling them could hurt others.
Now we have no council. Émilie is more than willing to help but also understands that we’re still licking our wounds, not ready to trust anyone, especially another voice on the end of a satellite phone. She has let us know that she’s there for anything we need, but we aren’t required to update her on any events in Haven’s Rock.
Now, though, we make that call of our own volition. We still do it with trepidation, worried about setting a precedent, but Émilie has resources we lack, and we need to use them if they can help residents.
We call her from our living room. Dalton is sprawled on the sofa with a beer, with Storm below him, dozing by the fire. I’m in my favorite chair, with my note pad, pen, and tea, legs pulled up and crossed.
I tell Émilie everything that has happened, starting with Max seeing a man in the forest. When I’m finished, she’s quiet.
“I know,” I say. “Our first child residents, and we’ve already lost one.”
“Not lost,” she says. “Taken. I’m certain of that. Max is a clever and cautious child, and Eric has been teaching him about the forest. He’s not going to wander off and get lost. If he had, Storm would have found his trail. He’s been carried off and, presumably, he’s being held somewhere.”
Presumably? She means hopefully.
Émilie continues, “I think you’re right that Max’s captor has used this ‘bear-man’ as a smoke screen. Yes, there is someone out there. Yes, that’s what Max and Gunnar saw. Whether or not it could be a hostile is impossible to say, and it hardly matters right now. There is someone out there, which is an absolute fact because it was independently confirmed by your neighbors. I hope this wild man isn’t responsible for Lilith’s apparent disappearance, but we have to set that aside. Max is our priority.”
“You think someone used the bear-man sighting to grab him. Possibly even imitating the bear-man to lure Max out.”
“No, that’s what you think, and I’m confirming it’s a valid theory. Which leads to your actual point for this call. Not to update me or to get my opinion but to see what I can add, as the one who knows all Dana’s details.”
I sigh. “You’re the second person today who’s called me out on my motives for talking to them. I need to up my game.”
“No, you need to find your game. Anyone who knows you realizes exactly where they fall on your scale of advisors, Casey, and unless their name is Eric Dalton, you probably have an ulterior motive for consulting them.”
“Well, I still do value your opinion.”
I swear I hear the smile in her voice as she says, “I know you do. But in this case, my opinion matters mostly because it will help determine whether I feel comfortable sharing confidential information with you two, which I would not if I thought your theory was wrong.”
“If you thought we were wrong, that would tell us we don’t need those details.”
“True.” A rustle and a click, as if she’s moving and getting out a laptop or tablet. “All right. First, while you didn’t ask, Dana isn’t running from a drug cartel. It’s not even organized crime, per se. It’s one very bad person with a very big grudge against her … and the resources to pursue her family until they get what they want, which is revenge.”
