we had them alone,” Emmitt said, “but they stuck to the party line. Those kids know something they’re not telling, <strong>and</strong> they’re scared. They’re in over their heads <strong>and</strong> don’t know how to climb out.” *** The voice kept fading in <strong>and</strong> out, making it difficult for Emmitt to hear all the words, but the fear came through loud <strong>and</strong> clear. “You gotta help me. I’m gonna be next.” Young, probably black, <strong>and</strong> most likely male, although terror raised the voice’s pitch to a near squeak. Cradling the receiver against his shoulder, Emmitt reached for a pad on his desk. “Where are you son?” “In the woods down by the river. He got a dog with him.” Emmitt had given his card to each of the boys after he <strong>and</strong> Phoebe questioned them at the church. It listed his direct office line <strong>and</strong> his cell phone. He’d figured the kids had discarded them as soon as he was out of sight. “How close to the church?” “I don’t know.” The kid cleared a gurgle from his throat. “I’ve been running a while.” The Yadkin River ran northsouth about a mile west of the church property. “You heading north or south?” His question was met with silence. “Are you moving with the river on your right or left?” “Right.” The voice sounded slightly stronger. “What’s your number?” Emmitt wrote it down. “You have my card?” “Yeah.” “Call me back on my cell. Keep moving in the same direction, <strong>and</strong> keep the river in sight. We’re on the way.” Emmitt fretted through the time it took to get patrol on the road <strong>and</strong> notify the sheriff’s office, hoping they had someone closer to the area than the WSPD. He sprinted to his car after catching Phoebe at her desk. She slid into the passenger seat as he turned the key in the ignition. Emmitt h<strong>and</strong>ed Phoebe his cell phone, “Keep him on the line.” They rode in silence except for the occasional word of encouragement Phoebe spoke into the phone. She told the kid to keep quiet, that she would do the talking. Emmitt cursed himself for blindness. He’d known the kids were scared, but not the source of their fear. Two cruisers from the sheriff’s office <strong>and</strong> a WSPD patrol car were already parked in the church lot when Emmitt skidded to a stop, spitting gravel from beneath the car’s wheels. One of the sheriff’s deputies stood beside his cruiser, microphone in h<strong>and</strong>. Emmitt jogged over, “Have they located Michaels?” The man shook his head, “There’s a lot of woods to search. Dogs are on the way. We’ve got a team working its way up the river from the south. Hope to catch him in-between.” “The kid says the Reverend has a dog of his own.” This information was relayed to the officers <strong>and</strong> deputies in the woods. Emmitt took his cell phone from Phoebe. “Find a place you can hide <strong>and</strong> stay put,” he told the kid. “Sheriff’s deputies are on the way up the river toward you, <strong>and</strong> a team is coming from the direction of the church.” Time crept past. Emmitt stared into the woods, as if by concentrating very hard he could manage to see what was happening a mile away. The sharp crack of gunfire broke the tense silence. Two shots echoed through the still, afternoon air. Emmitt gripped the phone, his words coming close to a shout. “Are you okay? Talk to me kid.” “What was that?” The young voice was a shaky whisper, but the boy sounded unharmed. Emmitt listened to the garbled voice from the car radio, “They’ve got him. Just stay where you are until you see the deputies coming up the river. They’ll bring you in.” *** three of them sat in Emmitt’s The car, Emmitt <strong>and</strong> the kid in back <strong>and</strong> Phoebe up front in the passenger seat. The kid was wrapped in a gray thermal blanket one of the deputies provided <strong>and</strong> was sipping on a cup of hot chocolate Phoebe scrounged from the church kitchen. The boy refused to set foot in the building. “I wanted to tell you when you were here the other day, but Lamont wouldn’t let me.” Emmitt’s suspicion that the lanky kid was the group’s leader was confirmed. “He said we’d all be okay if we just kept our heads down <strong>and</strong> our mouths shut.” “Juan, Deshawn, <strong>and</strong> Bryan were still part of the group when they died?” Emmitt asked. The kid stared into the cup clinched in his h<strong>and</strong>s, “At first we just thought it was some kind of strange happening. Reverend Michaels said Juan been backsliding, doing drugs on the sly, dissing the Lord. But Juan hadn’t let on to any of us, <strong>and</strong> we was pretty close, you know.” He looked up to meet Emmitt’s gaze. “When Deshawn died, Reverend Michaels said the police was coming out to talk to us. We should tell them we hadn’t seen Deshawn in over a month. That he dropped out of the program. He said if we didn’t, they’d shut the program down <strong>and</strong> we’d all be going to Youth Development on account of how the program was part of our probation. We was scared. None of us wanted to go away again. We did what he said.” “And after Bryan was killed?” Emmitt prompted. “Reverend Michaels said the police told him Bryan was into bad stuff that got him killed. Staying in the program <strong>and</strong> keeping to the ways of the Lord was the best way to stay safe.” The kid turned to stare out the car window toward the church. “We should’ve told what we knew. Maybe Bryan still be alive.” He glanced back at Emmitt as if for confirmation. “Any idea why Michaels did it?” Emmitt spoke softly, holding the kid’s gaze. “He say the Lord pulls out bad weeds so good crops can grow.” For the first time, Emmitt could see a glint of tears in the boy’s eyes. “I guess he figured some of us just too bad to grow.” � 70 <strong>Suspense</strong> <strong>Magazine</strong> September 2012 / Vol. 038
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