The Copper Box by Suzanne Bratcher

The Copper Box by Suzanne Bratcher

Author:Suzanne Bratcher [Bratcher, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781649170781
Publisher: Scrivenings Press LLC
Published: 2020-06-30T22:00:00+00:00


Paul’s first call was to the hospital: “No, no motorcycle accidents. No, no teenaged boys admitted in the last twenty-four hours.”

His second call was to Dan’s cell phone. When the older boy answered, Paul said, “I want to thank you for letting Scott spend the night Monday. He and I needed a timeout. We had a pretty intense discussion that afternoon.” Intense discussion, who was he kidding?

“No problem, Dr. Russell. I like Scott. He’s pretty grown up for his age.”

“He’s not with you now, is he?”

“No. Haven’t seen him since the other night.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is?”

“Sorry. What’s up?”

“All I know is he’s angry at me, justifiably so, I might add. I’m afraid I left him on his own emotionally when Linda died. I don’t suppose he told you anything that might help me understand?”

“No. We ate pizza and played some chess. He seemed okay.”

He seemed okay. Paul had to admit the phrase just about summed up his parenting for the last year and a half. “Thanks, Dan. If you ever change your mind about accepting payment for the time you spend with Scott, just let me know.”

“Won’t happen. Scott’s my man. If I hear from him, I’ll tell him to call you.”

Paul started calling Scott’s friends. Jason’s house. “No, Scott isn’t here. Jason’s at a softball game. I’m sure Scott isn’t with him. We haven’t seen much of Scott lately.”

“Do you know the name of a kid who goes by B.T.?”

“The one with dark shaggy hair and tattoos on both arms?”

“That’s the one.”

“No, sorry. Jason won’t have anything to do with him.”

Curt’s house. “Not here.”

“B.T.’s name?”

“Sorry.”

It was the same at Bobby’s and at Tim’s.

Finally, because he couldn’t leave any possible source of information untapped, he dialed the number for Madison’s house. Madison was the closest thing to a girlfriend Scott had ever had, and Paul liked her a lot. As he listened to the phone ring down the mountain in Cottonwood, he realized why he was reluctant to ask Madison about B.T. It was almost as if by linking Scott’s name with the other boy’s, he would reveal a shameful secret. But there had been nothing secret about the motorcycle.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Janet. It’s Paul Russell.” He knew good manners dictated some sort of small talk like thanking Madison’s mother for the work she and Madison’s dad were doing with the youth group or asking about their vacation plans, but he was too tense, too focused on the task at hand. He let himself off the manners hook and blurted, “Is Scott there?”

“No.” Janet paused. “You don’t know where he is?”

Paul wasn’t sure if the hint of criticism was in her voice or only in his imagination, but he struggled to keep from sounding defensive. “Scott and I had a misunderstanding, and I’m not sure where he went.” Yesterday. Or where he spent the night.

“I imagine you’ve tried calling him.”

He wanted to snap at the woman. Did she think he was a simpleton? Patience, he told himself. Patience, she’s only trying to help.



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