Clay followed his uncle’s directions. Teddy removed a cheap disposable camera from his vest pocket and snapped a picture, blinding Clay with the flash.
“Now let that big one go the way I taught you. He’s going to be plenty tired after that fight, so give him some help.”
Clay faced upstream, then lowered the big trout into the water, holding it steady so the current would flow through the fish’s gills. Then Clay gently rocked it back and forth to increase the trout’s oxygen intake. After half a minute, he could feel the fish’s strength return. It struggled to escape, and he let it go.
The stars disappeared as the sky lightened to periwinkle and then a rich azure. They decided to call it quits, hike back up to the trailer, and dive into bacon, eggs, and toast. It was a perfect morning, thought Clay. At least that’s what he thought before he saw his father’s squad car parked in front of Teddy’s trailer. That’s when Clay knew his mother was dead.
And now, thirty years later, Clay sees another squad car he didn’t expect to see, this one parked in front of Judd’s house. Different house. Different car. Different millennium. But Clay gets the same sick feeling.
CHAPTER 24
Clay is the first one out of Mike’s car and the first one to the door. He grabs the knob, twists, and pushes. It’s open. He steps into Judd’s small foyer and then the living room. Chief of Police Zoey Jensen sits in Judd’s recliner, her expression solemn. Straight-mouthed with eyes staring right at him. Clay goes numb, as if the world has stopped spinning and is about to explode. He opens his mouth to speak when Zoey’s eyes look to her left. Clay follows them to see Braedon stretched out on the couch, fast asleep under a blanket. He snorts, then rolls over onto his side. Clay responds by motioning for Zoey to step outside.
Judd, Mike, Clay, and Zoey walk away from the house and speak in hushed voices, hoping they blend into the sounds of the night and Braedon doesn’t wake.
“What happened?” says Clay.
Zoey looks at Judd and then Mike and then back to Clay and says, “When I ran into you earlier tonight, I knew you were up to more than just looking for Teddy. Something was happening or was about to happen. You were acting a little too casual. There was no desperation in your voice. No frustration. It was like you had everything under control, or at least thought you did.”
Clay doesn’t respond. Neither does Judd or Mike.
“So after you left the bar, I followed you. First to right here, and then again when you were tailing Judd.”
“How did you manage to tail me?” says Clay.
“It’s amazing how difficult cars are to see when all their lights are off. Especially when your focus was on following Judd. I parked a couple hundred yards behind you. Too far away to know what you were doing. Then when you took off toward the bridge, I moved up and watched you help Judd.”
“And you didn’t come to our aid,” says Judd.
“I was going to,” says Zoey. “But I witnessed your truck being stolen and I had to make a choice. And since whoever bopped you on the head most likely had something to do with Teddy’s disappearance, I decided to follow them.”
“And?” says Clay.
“And first of all, I had no intention of just leaving you there. While in pursuit of the suspects, I called both Officers Wahlquist and Kimmich. They did not answer their phones. I woke up Sue at home. She couldn’t track them down either.” Zoey turns toward Wahlquist and, for the first time since he’s met her, Clay sees pure police in her eyes. No quirky offbeat personality. No playful smile. “Where the hell were you, Mike?I saw you at Knut’s handing out meat raffle tickets. But when I called the bar a little later, they said you’d left.”
“On patrol,” says Mike. “Could have been on the road along Shady Creek. No cell reception there.”
“No radio reception either?” says Zoey. “’Cause Sue went to the station to try you.”
“I didn’t get a radio call,” says Mike.
Three pairs of eyes swing toward Mike. And three pairs of eyes know he’s lying.
“Let’s put a pin in that for now,” says Zoey. She takes in a big breath and exhales disappointment. She then turns toward Clay and Judd and adds, “I remained in pursuit of the suspects who led me into town. And that’s where things got a little dicey.”
Clay looks back toward the house where Braedon sleeps. He feels it in his body before he understands it in his head, but his brain catches up in a fraction of a second. “The boys on the bikes,” he says. Statement. Not a question.
“Uh-huh,” says Zoey in a flat monotone.
“What does that mean?” says Judd. “The boys on the bikes.”
“We’re talking about some kids who knocked you unconscious, threw your cell phone and keys into the river, and took Clay’s truck. And just before they left, they pulled three bikes out of the brush and threw them in the truck bed. Don’t worry, Clay. No damage to the vehicle. It’s parked safely around the corner from the community center. And your canister of cash is in evidence lockup at the station. How much is it? I didn’t have time to count it.”
Judd hesitates, then, verging on embarrassment, says, “Forty-five K. And there were three of them? Now that number makes sense. A multiple of three.”
“What?” says Mike. “Why didn’t you—”
“Later, Mike,” says Clay. Now it’s Clay’s turn to take a big breath. What he exhales is dread. “How was Braedon involved?”
