The dog trotted beside Samuel as they headed back up the mountain, his tongue hanging. When they crossed a small creek Samuel stopped to let Red drink. A little rabbit hopped farther back into the brush, and a pair of squirrels scolded from the canopy above their head.
Samuel took a couple of steps upstream from Red and squatted down beside the trickling water to wipe the sweat from his face. As he leaned over to sweep his hand through the water, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. He’d always taken great pride in looking like his father, but now it was a reminder of their loss. He set his jaw as he sloshed the water on his face. Tears were rolling down his cheeks as he stood, mixing with the water droplets as he started back up the mountain with his dog. By the time he got back to the murder scene, cops were everywhere, and the ache in his chest was firmly entrenched.
*
Leigh’s silent vigil over Stanton’s body ended when the constable and his men arrived. Once she had given her statement, she had to watch from a distance as the crime scene investigators began taking pictures of everything from the name that he’d scribbled in the dirt to the position of his body. When the medical examiner rolled the body over and realized the shot had been a through and through, the crime scene officers began looking for a bullet, hoping it had hit a tree.
When Michael and Aidan offered to help look, their offer was rejected, so they went to stand beside their mother. They stood for a few moments before they realized she was too quiet, and began to get concerned.
Leigh’s expression was evidence of her contempt as she watched the officers stomping around the area and examining the trees in search of the missing bullet.
“Both of you, please, go help those fools find the bullet. It’s going to help us name the killer.”
“We offered. They told us to step aside.”
“Oh my God,” she muttered, as she ran a shaky hand through her tangled hair.
“You don’t think they’ll find it?” Michael asked.
She pointed.
“No. Just look at them. They can plainly see where Stanton is lying and a direct line of shot would be there.” She pointed toward the northeast. “And yet look where they’re at.”
Aidan frowned. “I don’t care what they said. I’m going to help search. This is ridiculous.”
“I’ll go with you,” Michael said.
They were on the other side of the clearing when Samuel came up behind his mother. He tied Big Red up and then slid a hand across her shoulder.
She spun immediately.
“Anything?” she asked.
“I found a cartridge casing, and then the trail ended a ways down. He got away on a motorcycle.”
“Where’s the cartridge?” she asked.
“I marked the trail and let it lie. I figure the crime scene investigators will need to bag and process it.”
Leigh paused for a moment, staring up at her second son, then she cupped his face. Her voice shook as she spoke.
“You and Bowie look so much like your daddy.”
Samuel pulled her into his arms.
“We love you, Mama. We’ll all be here for you and Jesse. Always.”
She drew a slow, shaky breath. There were tears on her face when she pulled away, but the fire in her eyes was even brighter.
“Do you have Bowie’s number on your phone?”
“Yes, ma’am. Do you want to call him?”
He watched a muscle jerk at the side of her jaw and then the tears began to fall in earnest.
“I can’t say the words yet. Will you call him for me? Tell him I need him. Tell him I said to come home.”
“Yes, I’ll call. I have to go find a signal. I won’t be long.”
Leigh watched him walking away and for a moment could almost imagine it was Stanton.
Oh my God. Stanton. How am I going to live life without you in it?
Two
Samuel tried to call Bowie but had to leave a message for him to return the call, then headed for Constable Riordan instead.
“Sir, I have some information for you.”
“I’m listening,” Riordan said.
“I took my dog and trailed the shooter all the way down the mountain until the trail ended at a set of tire tracks. It was some kind of motorcycle. I took pictures of the tread and of his footprints. Give me a number and I’ll send the pictures to you. Also, there’s a spent cartridge in the brush where the shooter stood. If you’ll get one of your investigators to follow me, I’ll show him where it is. I marked the spot without picking it up.”
Riordan’s eyes widened.
“Good job,” he said, and then added, “I’m sure sorry for your loss. Stanton was a good man.”
Samuel’s eyes were glassy from unshed tears, and his chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.
“Yes, sir,” he said, and waited.
The constable called out to one of the investigators, who came on the run.
“What’s up?” the man asked.
“This is Samuel Youngblood, one of the victim’s sons. He found a spent cartridge. Follow him to bag it.”
“Yes, sir,” the investigator said, and took off after Samuel, who was already walking away.