Prodigal

Chapter 31-1

31

Adam waited in the car until Luther took Dorothy inside, and then he waited a little more. He’d lost any chance of going under the radar, as JJ had hoped to do, when Dorothy pulled the gun in the parking lot. Emotions were doubtless running high for the whole community, and Adam didn’t exactly think he’d be welcomed with open arms once they figured out who he was. The last thing he needed was to set off someone else’s crazy.

He’d been telling the truth when he told Dorothy he wasn’t sure that Otto’d taken his little girl. But he also believed in what he’d seen. If nothing else, nearly dying had clearly done that for him.

He had to get a look at the maps inside.

Adam didn’t have any outstanding warrants—he’d be willing to bet that wasn’t the case for all the search volunteers—but that didn’t make him any less wary of going into the belly of the law enforcement beast. He helped himself to an Orioles baseball cap he found on the back seat. His head ached as he pulled the cap down hard, but that was nothing compared to the agony of getting out of the car and upright. He unlatched the door and pushed it open with a leg to minimize the movement in his torso.

Adam leaned against the car, letting the warm sun soak into his cold bones while he recovered and got his bearings. Mostly brick with white wood trim around tall windows, flanked by flagpoles but bearing no fancy plaques or statues, the War Memorial Building hadn’t changed since Adam’s childhood. The last time he’d been inside was for someone’s birthday party. He couldn’t remember who or when, but they were young enough that they blew on noisemakers with a sense of fun rather than irony, and Matchbox cars were the party favors of choice.

Built on a slope, the building had multiple levels and multiple entrances, for which Dorothy should be grateful. Adam imagined most of the activity was on the other side, where there was additional parking. That entrance was closer to the main kitchen and the biggest bathroom.

The front entry wasn’t raised more than half a dozen feet from the ground, but the designers had made the most of the distance with numerous shallow, broad steps. Adam kept slowly tap-tap-tapping his slippered feet on the concrete without feeling like he ever made any headway. He felt certain it was a fire hazard. To make matters worse, lifting his feet to ascend the steps took so much concentration, he kept forgetting to breathe.

Adam paused at the top, dizzy and breathless, just as the push bar handles rattled on the door. Adam dropped his head and looked away as a pair of men banged through the doors and lumbered outside. They ignored Adam, and he slipped inside after they’d passed.

He found himself in a transitional area, with a large, open assembly room to the right and a warren of smaller rooms to the left. Adam recognized the open room from the birthday party so many years ago, and stepped in that direction.

It was dim inside, all glare and shadows, with pools of light from the windows puddling on the dark, hardwood floor. A few long, folding tables broke up the open space, and the far wall was a mix of removable partition and solid, structural barrier. Beyond the partition lay a kitchenette, with a fridge and sink and plenty of counter space, but no actual cooking appliances, meant to supplement the workhorse, full kitchen downstairs.

Tables had been pushed up against the solid wall, and photographs were mounted on the wall itself. A couple of men—early forties, dressed in matching dark shirts and tan khakis with lots of pockets—stood in front of the tables.

Adam risked moving in for a closer look and found exactly what he was hoping for—aerial photos. It wasn’t all of Beecham County, but they’d covered more than enough ground to keep Adam’s eyes busy. Corresponding maps for the areas were spread out on the tables below—a mixture of National Forest, State Park, county road, state road, tax maps, topographical, and everything in between. Adam’s eyes locked on a gray area he recognized. Even with the early loss of leaves elsewhere, it stood out. His fingers moved over the maps until he found the corresponding spot on one of them.

“They’ve got all this stuff computerized downstairs, but sometimes it’s nice to be able to touch the paper,” said the man next to him. He had dark hair and a blue polo shirt that identified him as FBI. “What is that?” he asked.

Adam focused on the photo, trying not to make eye contact without being obvious about it. “Dead Hollow,” he said, holding his breath against the pain as he pointed at the corresponding map.

“And the trees are all dead? They didn’t just lose their leaves?”

The inane question shocked Adam into staring at the man. A narrow scar over his lip caught Adam’s eye. “They’re dead, in that big patch in the middle. I don’t know why. Some people say it’s because something toxic was dumped there, but nobody really knows.”

“Isn’t that where the boy was kidnapped twenty years ago?”

Crap.

Adam had talked himself into a corner now. At this point, it’d be suspicious not to answer. Perhaps if he satisfied the man’s—the agent’s—curiosity, he’d go on his way and leave Adam to review the photos. Preferably before someone else recognized Adam.

“Danny Carpenter was taken from here, just north of the dead patch,” he said, trying not to wince as he leaned across the table to point at the photos. “But locals call this whole big area Dead Hollow, from around that camp all the way out to the state road.”

“You must have known him—the Carpenter kid. You look about the right age.”

“Yessir,” Adam said, perhaps his first yessir since he was fourteen. He tried to shove his hands in his pants pockets, only to realize he was wearing scrubs. Nice. That’s blending in. “Yessir, it’s a small town. Everybody knew him.”

“Were you there—”

The man was interrupted when his khaki-clad companion appeared at his side and said, “Blake wants us.”

The two men left without another word to Adam, as if he were no more than a piece of furniture.

Adam breathed a pained sigh of relief and got down to the serious business of finding a cabin he’d only seen in his mind.