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P. Garrett Weiler

Copyright 2012 by P. Garrett Weiler

Smashwords Edition

Never before in his twenty-three years had Bill Dixon felt so completely helpless. Even though the sheriff’s department had mobilized to find little Ned Brady, Dixon’s impotence swiftly became desperation. The search had gone on all day, but not so much as a footprint had been found.

He stood with one arm around Jenny Brady and watched night darken the nearby forest. Fat snow flakes fluttered down through light from the living room.

We’ll find him, Jenny. Try not to worry.”

She turned to look up at him. “Oh, he’ll be just fine. I was only on the phone for a few minutes. I’ll have to watch that little scamp closer. But he’s going to be pretty hungry by now. He’s a growing boy you know…just barely five-years old.” She touched Bill’s hand on her shoulder. “You must be half starved yourself, Billy. I’ll make some sandwiches and coffee.” Smoky-blue eyes smiled up at him. She brushed a whisp of light, almost blonde hair into place, then went towards the kitchen.

Dixon watched her walk away. Was she just insulating herself from the danger her son faced? Was it just defensive denial? Jenny had always been a little distant, her world view a bit shifted from the norm. In this grim situation, though, he sensed something else at work.

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