Victoria Falls by James Hornor

Author:James Hornor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green Writers Press
Published: 2019-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHARLIE AWAKENED TO THE SOUND OF A TRUCK IN THE driveway, and at first he thought it was the truck—returning a second time. But when he went to the window he saw his father getting out of his pickup truck and carrying in a sack of groceries. It was dusk, Charlie guessed five o’clock, and he now knew that he had slept for three hours while James had been away.

“How did you do?” Charlie was still at the top of the stairs and James was now standing just inside the door.

“I did just fine. Come on down and I’ll tell you all about it.”

As Charlie descended the stairs, he was relieved to feel that someone else was now in charge, and as he helped his father unpack the groceries, he was no longer afraid of the man in the truck or reporting Jenny’s disappearance to the RCMP or even of Heather’s disquietude. For reasons that Charlie could not quite describe, he felt safe and protected with his father actually there.

“Did you sleep?”

Charlie loved the way that his father put his son’s well-being above other concerns.

“Best sleep I’ve had in months. Any luck in the village?”

James continued to unpack groceries and set aside the chicken and the rice to cook for dinner.

“A Mountie happened to be at the convenience, and I gave him a brief account of Jenny’s disappearance. An RCMP detective will be by in the morning to begin an investigation. He said it would be helpful if you wrote down everything that happened—hour by hour.”

“Is that all he said?”

“He asked if either of us had actually checked the ski trail.”

“We checked the trail. She was abducted.”

“They might look at that as only a theory.”

“Why would she toss her phone in the woodpile?”

“They could say she put it down in the woodpile while getting logs for the fire.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Of course not. All I’m saying is that they will look at every possibility.”

“Then how about the truck in the middle of the night?”

“OK, just to play devil’s advocate, they might say that was a midnight dream.”

“What?”

“Just to be on the safe side, I would leave out the part you told me about imagining yourself breaking the windshield with a crowbar. That didn’t happen, but they might theorize none of it happened—that you imagined all of it.”

“So they think she’s still out there? Still on the trail?”

“All I’m saying is that they won’t assume anything. It’s their job to be systematic with any inquiry or investigation. Why don’t you work on the report while I fix dinner?”

Charlie acquiesced to his father’s calm and principled demeanor. It was as if he were connected to a homing device that kept him always on target, always on point. For as long as Charlie could remember, the man who had raised him, Richard Benjamin, had always been the opposite—subject to situation and circumstance, clever and cunning, but sometimes unreliable. He had a way of negotiating life that was based upon leverage and securing the quick advantage.

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