The Highwayman

Chapter 9: Find

Chapter 9: Find

June 7.

11:42 A.M.

Clarion County

Route 949

“It’s supposed to be easier than this,” Ridge said, driving on a dirt road, deep in the Clarion woods. “All I see are trees and a few boulders surrounded by trees.”

“How far are we from the college?” Damian wanted to sketch a specific picture on the white pad positioned on his lap. Maybe his gift could lead the two of them to the boy in the woods so they could process some questioning. A simple LEFT or RIGHT could assist in their cat and mouse game, and they could eventually learn of the young man’s whereabouts, closer to the Highwayman.

“Ten miles to the south. Why do you ask?”

Damian closed his eyes and pressed his number two pencil to the sketchpad on his lap. The pencil started to draw a field of growing knee-high corn and thick woods in the backdrop. His strokes were speedy and resembled a child coloring outside the lines of a black-lined picture of a mouse.

His lover stopped the Buick on the right side of the dirt road and let Damian work. Ridge watched Damian’s right hand tick numerous and small checkmarks across the sketchpad, creating a black and white picture. The urge to ask Damian where the locale was ate at Ridge but he didn’t want to interrupt Damian, leaving him to work.

Damian left out a light gasp as his hand buzzed over the white pad. Checkmarks turned into scribbles. His breathing intensified as he added their Buick to the sketch.

“It’s up ahead, isn’t it, guy? We’re almost there.”

Damian said nothing. Instead, he stopped sketching, rested his hand on his illustration, and relaxed his skull against the seat’s leather headrest. Following a two-minute wait, he whispered to Ridge, “Up ahead on the right. The pictures don’t lie.”

He listened to the Buick crunch of the dirt road, loosening rock beneath the tires. The road branched to the right and left. He watched Ridge out of the corner of his left eye as Ridge steered the vehicle to the right. “Almost there,” Damian said, which came across as a whisper and nothing more. “The boy in the woods is found.”

* * * *

The two German shepherds barked at the Buick as it pulled up to the one-story cabin in the meadow. Damian looked around and noticed the mounds of dirt, very little grass, and surrounding woods. The property looked uncared for, a dismal mess. There was nothing nice about the place, and it reeked of danger.

He watched Ridge park the Buick. The two men climbed out and made their way to the cabin’s front door. Damian knocked on the door.

A young man answered the door with flaming red hair. He was on the taller side and looked thin, but carried some muscle.

Damian flashed his badge. “FBI. Agent Truth.” He stepped aside and said, “This is Agent Tyson. We have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“About what?” the kid asked with a demure and confused look on his face.

“This guy. Have you seen him around here?” Ridge said, pulling one of Damian’s sketches out of his back pocket, presenting the Highwayman to MJ Fields.