Spirit of a Hunter (2 page)

When Scotty reached the fence, Tommy lifted him, backpack and all—he was so light!—to the top of the stone wall, then changed his grip and helped him over the iron spikes.

As he checked his son over, as he looked into that innocent face, a chicken bone of breath lodged in Tommy’s throat. What if he couldn’t do this? What if he failed Scotty again? What if all he managed to do was lead his son into a deeper hell?

“Dad?”

Tommy forced a smile. “Hey, champ, are you ready for our big adventure?”

Brown eyes bright with anticipation, Scotty patted his backpack. “I got everything, just like you said.”

Well, what’s it going to be, Ranger? Action—or another excuse?

Rangers lead the way
.

Tommy folded Scotty’s small hand in his. Time to set a proper example for his son.
Be a man, Tommy
. He did an about-face on his past and focused on his mission. “Let’s roll.”

* * *

T
HIS MORNING
.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Nora Camden pushed open Scotty’s bedroom door and peeked in, anticipating her son’s protesting grumbles. He wasn’t a morning person.

Scotty had the covers up over his head, still hard asleep. He’d had a rough couple of days, and he’d desperately needed a decent night’s sleep. She hated to wake him up, but the Colonel didn’t have much patience with her interference or Scotty’s asthma. He accused her of coddling the boy and making Scotty weak. As if a child could will himself well. As if a mother could watch her son suffer without doing everything she could to help him.

“It’s almost nine.” Nora added a lilt to her voice, hoping to lure Scotty out of hiding. “I talked the cook into letting me make some of your favorite blueberry pancakes. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen. Come on. Up and at ‘em.”

No movement from the bed. “Scotty?” Had his asthma flared up again? How could she not have heard? Heart knocking, she rushed across the golden oak floorboards. “Did you have a bad night, sweetie? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She reached down to shake her son awake. Her hands sank into the lump on the bed and a gasp sucked all of the room’s air into her lungs. She whipped off the denim comforter and found a fleece blanket vaguely shaped like a body. “This isn’t funny, Scotty.”

She dropped to her knees and skimmed a glance
under the bed. “I know you don’t want to go to James Enger’s party, but that’s no reason to hide from me.”

Another of the Colonel’s attempts to get Scotty to fit in to the proper social circles. She snorted. As if offering up his grandson as prey to a bully would win anyone anything. Unfortunately, Nora had to weigh her battles and, on this one, she’d retreated.

She dusted off the knees of her black wool slacks—
Camden women are always proper, Nora
—and tilted her head at the closet door standing ajar. Scotty liked to hide there to read forbidden comic books with a flashlight. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her amusement at his act of civil disobedience. “You don’t have to stay long. I promise. We’ll go late and, as soon as you’ve had cake, you can call, and I’ll pick you right up.”

She jerked open the closet door. Empty. Frowning, hands on hips, she whirled toward the center of the room. “Come on, Scotty. It’s time to come out.”

Where would he have gone? It wasn’t as if he could leave the grounds. Not with the dogs and the alarm system ready to betray any attempt at escape. Even in this 13,000-square-foot house, there weren’t that many places to hide from the Colonel’s all-seeing eyes.

Maybe he’d sneaked into the family room for some cartoons. He’d better hope the Colonel didn’t catch him or he’d have to endure another lecture on mass media’s corrupting influence.

Nora’s lips quivered into a smile. On the other hand, maybe that had been Scotty’s plan all along. A lecture would make them even later for James’s party, and
Scotty really hated James Enger. The Colonel didn’t give the boy enough credit for smarts. She turned and headed out of the room.

That’s when she spotted the note on Scotty’s desk.

After his name, he’d doodled a smiling stick moose with giant antlers.

“Oh, Tommy, what have you done?” Why had he taken Scotty when he had visitation this afternoon? Was he off his meds?

She closed her eyes and squeezed the note tight. If she told the Colonel, he’d find Scotty, but Tommy would lose his visitations, and those visitations were what kept her ex-husband sane. And she didn’t want Scotty to grow up not knowing his father. A child needed to know both his parents loved him. A child needed his family.

Her knees lost their locking ability and she sank onto the desk chair. Tommy was trying to tell her something with this note, but what? She ironed the piece of paper on the desk with the side of her fist until it was perfectly flat again. In spite of everything, Tommy adored their son. He wouldn’t hurt Scotty. But if Tommy was off his bipolar disorder meds, he could be unpredictable. A pick
of ice stabbed her heart. Would he be able to take care of Scotty then? What if Scotty had another asthma attack?

She bolted to Scotty’s night table and rifled through the drawer. Scotty’s inhaler was missing, but the disc of Advair was still there. She splayed a hand across her chest. “How could you do this, Tommy?”

Don’t panic. Not yet
. Scotty had his inhaler. He was due for a new one soon, but this one should last a couple of days. And he would be okay without the other meds for a day. Swallowing hard, she clenched the purple disc. He had to.
Please, please, don’t let him have another big attack
.

“How could you? How could you? How could you?” Gritting her teeth, she searched Scotty’s room for what was missing. His red backpack. His yellow fleece jacket. His camouflage pants. His hiking boots. Tiny bits of armor that would have to protect her son in whatever shortsighted foolishness Tommy had led him into. She batted at the runaway tears.

Tommy had put her in a sticky spot. But maybe she could rescue both father and son from the Colonel’s sure punishment. She had to stall. Buy them time.

And find them both. The sooner, the better.

Back at the desk, she rubbed at the writing on the note as if it were a magic lamp. Tommy had given her the map. All she had to do was figure out the key to his insanity.

Scotty’s okay. He’s with his father who loves him. Everything will be okay
.

She hung on to that thought and let it pulse a backbeat as she tried to decipher Tommy’s code.

“Band on the Run” by Wings. She plunked her elbows on the desk and raked her hands through her hair.
Think! What does it mean?
Did he want her to focus on the title or were the lyrics part of the key? Was he running with someone else? Why was he running in the first place?

She dug her fingers into her scalp. “Route 66” by Bobby Troup. Was he really taking Route 66 or was he going two thousand miles or was it the kicks part she was supposed to make something out of?

“Deep Water” by Richard Clapton. She rubbed the heels of her palms against her pulsing temples. Was he drunk? Heading to California?

She fisted both hands into her hair and pulled. What was it with all the road songs? None of this made sense.
Tommy, help me out
.

“Where’s the boy?”

Nora started and spun the desk chair around, instinctively blocking the note from the Colonel’s view. He stood in the doorway, suit-clad body army-straight and stiff, white hair—what was left of it—cut military-short around the shiny pink dome, brown mustache and eyebrows accent marks on an already well-punctuated face.

“I thought he was with you.” Of course her treacherous cheeks had to blush, giving away her lie. “You shouldn’t force him to go to a party he doesn’t want to attend.”

The Colonel’s nostrils flared at her inappropriate challenge. “James Enger is a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of him. It’s never too early to make connections.”

She knitted her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting like a nervous recruit. “I’m sure Scotty’s around somewhere. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I want him dressed and ready to go in ten minutes.” The unspoken
or else
hung in the air.

“Yes, sir.”

Shoot. What was she supposed to do now? Give Tommy up? No, not yet. There was still time to keep the peace.

As the Colonel left, she whipped back to the note. A fist of panic gripped her chest.
You can work through this, Nora
. Deep River. Maybe Tommy had taken Scotty for a hike along the Flint River. They loved to hike together, but two hours of visitation every other Saturday didn’t give them much time. Not that she wanted Scotty stuck on the side of a hiking trail while having an asthma attack.

She shook her head.
Don’t go to the worst-case scenario. Find them. Bring them home
. She dashed to her room, slipped the note, Scotty’s Advair and a fresh inhaler in her purse, then headed toward the garage. Her lips disappeared into her mouth as she listened for the Colonel and tiptoed along the precisely cut diagonal limestone tiles in the hallway.

She was reaching for the key to her Mercedes on the pegboard by the garage door when the Colonel marched into the hall, steps thundering.

“Where’s the boy?” he asked.

“Scotty’s already in the car. I, uh, had to go back for something. We’re heading off to the party. As ordered.” Shoot, her face was flaming again.

The Colonel waved an envelope. “He forgot James’s present.”

“I’ll take it.” She reached out for the check.

The Colonel jammed it in his breast pocket. “I’m driving.”

Double shoot. The Colonel stepped past her, the drumming heels of his boots a reminder of his power, and into the garage where half a dozen cars were parked. “Where is he?”

“In my car.”

Oh, great, now she’d have to make Scotty look like an ungrateful grandchild to cover her lie. She pretended to look in the backseat, then under the car. “Scotty? Come out right now!”

“You need to keep a tighter hand on that child. A boy needs to know who’s in charge. All this lack of discipline leads to insubordination.”

“He’s just a boy.”

“He’s a Camden. He has obligations. A reputation to uphold.” Blocking her escape with his broad shoulders, the Colonel flipped open his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button. “Prescott is missing.”

Nora bit the tip of her tongue to keep herself from pleading Scotty’s case. That would only make things worse.
Choose your battles
. Better to wait until she’d found him.

The Colonel’s already ramrod-straight body stiffened. “I’ll take care of it. Find the boy. Bring him to me.”

Siccing hired muscle after a ten-year-old boy. Her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse. What was
wrong with him? The bruiser would find Scotty all right, scare the snot out of him, then hand him to the Colonel. And the Colonel would feel obliged to punish Scotty for his unsoldier-like behavior. She couldn’t let that happen.

Breathing in courage, she shored up her defenses. The thug might be good at tracking, but Scotty was her son, and she understood how his mind worked—and Tommy’s, too, as fried as it was. The muscle would scour the estate, but she already knew Scotty and Tommy were gone. Key tight in hand, she wended her way around the Colonel’s Cadillac toward her car.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Colonel barked at her.

“For a ride.”

“Now?”

“I need fresh air.” In spite of her best effort for a show of strength, she squirmed into position behind the wheel and reached for the armor of the door.

The Colonel grasped the top of it in one hand and denied her a shield. The pointed end of his icy stare pinned her against the bloodred leather upholstery. He knew. She swallowed the series of hard knots notching her throat. He knew she was holding something back. He knew that she wasn’t telling the truth.

“If you’re abetting Tommy’s folly, you’ll pay the price.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You lost the boy.” In the cavernous garage, the Colonel’s voice rumbled in warning.

“He isn’t lost.”
He’s with his father
.

The Colonel’s gaze slitted to a knife edge. If she
wasn’t careful, she’d end up filleted. “I don’t want you anywhere near that boy until I’ve had a talk with him about responsibility.”

More like a hazing. A snort escaped her. “He’s not a soldier. He’s a little boy.”

“He’s a Camden.”

Reminding her once again that only his benevolence allowed her to stay at the mansion. But what choice did she have? Scotty had never signed on for this tour of duty. If she tried to leave, the Colonel would use all of his influence to take her son away from her. The threat of loss ripped through her, leaving her clutching the edges of her seat to keep balanced. At least this way, she had a say. She could protect her son—the way Tommy’s mother never had. The way her mother never had.

Nerves rattling, she ratcheted her chin up one notch…two. “I know where he likes to go when he’s scared.”

The Colonel’s face quivered in a purple mottle. “You’ve turned him into a sissy boy.”

I’ve made him into a sweet, mostly happy boy
. Knowing her chances of searching for Scotty depended on the Colonel’s goodwill, she submissively lowered her head. “I’ll bring him home.”

“See that you do.”

With a shaky hand, Nora cranked the engine over and backed out of the garage bay. She stopped at the gate and waited for the iron monstrosity to lumber open.

The situation was getting worse. Every year the Colonel expected more out of Scotty, and his expectations
were beyond Scotty’s age capacity, especially with the asthma factored in.

She had to get her son out. Somehow. She had to find a way. But how? A sea of tears formed in her chest, swirled into a hurricane and threatened the back of her eyes with landfall. Dumpster-diving for food was no life for a sick boy. How could she get him the medicine he needed, the education he deserved, the safe home every child should have?