the Run on Route 66 to Deep Water and into Graceland.
Talking Heads: 77.
Love, Tommy.
After his name, he’d doodled a smiling stick moose with giant antlers.
“Oh, Tommy, what have you done?” Why had he taken Scotty when he had visitation this afternoon? Was he off his meds?
She closed her eyes and squeezed the note tight. If she told the Colonel, he’d find Scotty, but Tommy would lose his visitations, and those visitations were what kept her ex-husband sane. And she didn’t want Scotty to grow up not knowing his father. A child needed to know both his parents loved him. A child needed his family.
Her knees lost their locking ability and she sank onto the desk chair. Tommy was trying to tell her something with this note, but what? She ironed the piece of paper on the desk with the side of her fist until it was perfectly flat again. In spite of everything, Tommy adored their son. He wouldn’t hurt Scotty. But if Tommy was off his bipolar disorder meds, he could be unpredictable. A pick of ice stabbed her heart. Would he be able to take care of Scotty then? What if Scotty had another asthma attack?
She bolted to Scotty’s night table and rifled through the drawer. Scotty’s inhaler was missing, but the disc of Advair was still there. She splayed a hand across her chest. “How could you do this, Tommy?”
Don’t panic. Not yet. Scotty had his inhaler. He was due for a new one soon, but this one should last a couple of days. And he would be okay without the other meds for a day. Swallowing hard, she clenched the purple disc. He had to. Please, please, don’t let him have another big attack.
“How could you? How could you? How could you?” Gritting her teeth, she searched Scotty’s room for what was missing. His red backpack. His yellow fleece jacket. His camouflage pants. His hiking boots. Tiny bits of armor that would have to protect her son in whatever shortsighted foolishness Tommy had led him into. She batted at the runaway tears.
Tommy had put her in a sticky spot. But maybe she could rescue both father and son from the Colonel’s sure punishment. She had to stall. Buy them time.
And find them both. The sooner, the better.
Back at the desk, she rubbed at the writing on the note as if it were a magic lamp. Tommy had given her the map. All she had to do was figure out the key to his insanity.
Scotty’s okay. He’s with his father who loves him. Everything will be okay.
She hung on to that thought and let it pulse a backbeat as she tried to decipher Tommy’s code.
“Band on the Run” by Wings. She plunked her elbows on the desk and raked her hands through her hair. Think! What does it mean? Did he want her to focus on the title or were the lyrics part of the key? Was he running with someone else? Why was he running in the first place?
She dug her fingers into her scalp. “Route 66” by Bobby Troup. Was he really taking Route 66 or was he going two thousand miles or was it the kicks part she was supposed to make something out of?
“Deep Water” by Richard Clapton. She rubbed the heels of her palms against her pulsing temples. Was he drunk? Heading to California?
She fisted both hands into her hair and pulled. What was it with all the road songs? None of this made sense. Tommy, help me out.
“Where’s the boy?”
Nora started and spun the desk chair around, instinctively blocking the note from the Colonel’s view. He stood in the doorway, suit-clad body army-straight and stiff, white hair—what was left of it—cut military-short around the shiny pink dome, brown mustache and eyebrows accent marks on an already well-punctuated face.
“I thought he was with you.” Of course her treacherous cheeks had to blush, giving away her lie. “You shouldn’t force him to go to a party he doesn’t want to attend.”
The Colonel’s nostrils flared at her inappropriate challenge. “James Enger is a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of him. It’s never too early to make connections.”
She knitted her hands in her lap to keep them from fidgeting like a nervous recruit. “I’m sure Scotty’s around somewhere. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”
“I want him dressed and ready to go in ten minutes.” The unspoken or else hung in the air.
“Yes, sir.”
Shoot. What was she supposed to do now? Give Tommy up? No, not yet. There was still time to keep the peace.
As the Colonel left, she whipped back to the note. A fist of panic gripped her chest. You can work through this, Nora. Deep River. Maybe Tommy had taken Scotty for a hike along the Flint River. They loved to hike together, but two hours of visitation every other Saturday didn’t give them much time. Not that she wanted Scotty stuck on the side of a hiking trail while having an asthma attack.
She shook her head. Don’t go to the worst-case scenario. Find them. Bring them home. She dashed to her room, slipped the note, Scotty’s Advair and a fresh inhaler in her purse, then headed toward the garage. Her lips disappeared into her mouth as she listened for the Colonel and tiptoed along the precisely cut diagonal limestone tiles in the hallway.
She was reaching for the key to her Mercedes on the pegboard by the garage door when the Colonel marched into the hall, steps thundering.
“Where’s the boy?” he asked.
“Scotty’s already in the car. I, uh, had to go back for something. We’re heading off to the party. As ordered.” Shoot, her face was flaming again.
The Colonel waved an envelope. “He forgot James’s present.”
“I’ll take it.” She reached out for the check.
The Colonel jammed it in his breast pocket. “I’m driving.”
Double shoot. The Colonel stepped past her, the drumming heels of his boots a reminder of his power, and into the garage where half a dozen cars were parked. “Where is he?”
“In my car.”
Oh, great, now she’d have to make Scotty look like an ungrateful grandchild to cover her lie. She pretended to look in the backseat, then under the car. “Scotty? Come out right now!”
“You need to keep a tighter hand on that child. A boy needs to know who’s in charge. All this lack of discipline leads to insubordination.”
“He’s just a boy.”
“He’s a Camden. He has obligations. A reputation to uphold.” Blocking her escape with his broad shoulders, the Colonel flipped open his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial button. “Prescott is missing.”
Nora bit the tip of her tongue to keep herself from pleading Scotty’s case. That would only make things worse. Choose your battles. Better to wait until she’d found him.
The Colonel’s already ramrod-straight body stiffened. “I’ll take care of it. Find the boy. Bring him to me.”
Siccing hired muscle after a ten-year-old
