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Authors: William McNally
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sister.”
Joseph navigated the vehicle away from the island and deeper into the lake.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
D onald dialed his phone and waited for an answer.
“Hello.”
“Brenda?” Donald asked.
“Yes, who is this please?”
“This is Donald Jensen, Terry’s friend.”
“Oh, Donald.” Brenda sounded relieved. “I am so glad you called, I didn’t have your number. Have you heard from Terry or Abby?”
“No,” Donald answered. “I have been trying for days and haven’t been able to reach them.”
“I am driving up from Louisiana,” she said. “I expect to get there late this evening.”
“I am flying in tomorrow morning,” Donald replied. “I should get up to Silverton by late afternoon. Should we contact someone else?”
“I don’t know anyone else to contact other than the police,” Brenda answered.
“I will call them right now,” Donald said. “I’ll let you know what I find out. Have a safe drive and don’t worry, I am sure they are fine.”
“Thanks Donald,” Brenda said hanging up the phone.
“Sheriff’s office,” the voice on the phone line twanged.
“Hello my name is Donald Jensen. I am a friend of Terry and Abby James. They live up in the lodge outside of Silverton.”
“I know who they are,” Rita Haeckel said. “How can I help you?”
“I am afraid I have not been able to reach them for a several days. I am visiting tomorrow and cannot get in contact with them,” Donald said. “I was wondering if you could send someone up to check on them.”
“Surely,” Rita answered. “If you want to try back in a couple of hours, we can let you know what we found out.”
“Okay, thank you,” Donald said.
“Bye,” Rita chirped, gum clicking between her teeth.
Rita walked to the back of the office and found Ima pouring a cup of coffee.
“Deputy Rogers, we just received a call about the folks up at the James Lodge. Someone’s looking for them and has not been able to reach them by phone.”
“I will head up there right now,” Ima responded.
Ima grabbed her jacket off the coat rack. On the wall next to it was a tarnished brass plate that read, safety is everyone’s most important duty. Ima walked out the front door and surveyed the sky, rain was coming. She stepped off the curb and was startled by a crow flying overhead, its dark shadow barely visible in the gray sky.
Ima approached her truck and dropped her keys. She bent down to pick them up, and when she rose the crow was on the roof of her truck. She shooed the bird away and climbed into her truck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
T erry heard the sounds of an engine and tried to sit up.
“Help, please help,” Terry called out.
A horn sounded and he called out again, pounding his fist against the hull of the boat. He fell back, stared into the dull sky and lost consciousness.
Joseph and Abby heard Terry’s cries. They were close to the shoreline and the compass in the vehicle spun wildly.
“Help.” They heard the voice again, it was distant and weak.
Joseph did not need the voice or the compass. He was tracking his own way and had picked up the trail a few minutes earlier. The trail was getting stronger and he was confidant it was Terry’s. Joseph adjusted course until they saw the shadow in the distance.
“Abby, I think we have found him,” Joseph said.
“Thank goodness.”
Joseph pulled alongside the canoe and grabbed the side of the craft. Terry lay in a pool of bloody water and the sight of his twisted leg made Joseph’s stomach turn. Abby stood up and yelled to him.
“Abby!” Joseph said. “I need you to stay still and help hold the canoe.”
“We need to get him out of there,” she screamed.
“We cannot,” Joseph answered. “If we try to move him we’ll swamp us both, we need to tow him to one of the islands.”
She complied as tears streamed down her face. Joseph tied the canoe to the back of the ATV and moved forward with the canoe in tow.
“Look,” Abby said pointing
Joseph navigated the vehicle away from the island and deeper into the lake.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
D onald dialed his phone and waited for an answer.
“Hello.”
“Brenda?” Donald asked.
“Yes, who is this please?”
“This is Donald Jensen, Terry’s friend.”
“Oh, Donald.” Brenda sounded relieved. “I am so glad you called, I didn’t have your number. Have you heard from Terry or Abby?”
“No,” Donald answered. “I have been trying for days and haven’t been able to reach them.”
“I am driving up from Louisiana,” she said. “I expect to get there late this evening.”
“I am flying in tomorrow morning,” Donald replied. “I should get up to Silverton by late afternoon. Should we contact someone else?”
“I don’t know anyone else to contact other than the police,” Brenda answered.
“I will call them right now,” Donald said. “I’ll let you know what I find out. Have a safe drive and don’t worry, I am sure they are fine.”
“Thanks Donald,” Brenda said hanging up the phone.
“Sheriff’s office,” the voice on the phone line twanged.
“Hello my name is Donald Jensen. I am a friend of Terry and Abby James. They live up in the lodge outside of Silverton.”
“I know who they are,” Rita Haeckel said. “How can I help you?”
“I am afraid I have not been able to reach them for a several days. I am visiting tomorrow and cannot get in contact with them,” Donald said. “I was wondering if you could send someone up to check on them.”
“Surely,” Rita answered. “If you want to try back in a couple of hours, we can let you know what we found out.”
“Okay, thank you,” Donald said.
“Bye,” Rita chirped, gum clicking between her teeth.
Rita walked to the back of the office and found Ima pouring a cup of coffee.
“Deputy Rogers, we just received a call about the folks up at the James Lodge. Someone’s looking for them and has not been able to reach them by phone.”
“I will head up there right now,” Ima responded.
Ima grabbed her jacket off the coat rack. On the wall next to it was a tarnished brass plate that read, safety is everyone’s most important duty. Ima walked out the front door and surveyed the sky, rain was coming. She stepped off the curb and was startled by a crow flying overhead, its dark shadow barely visible in the gray sky.
Ima approached her truck and dropped her keys. She bent down to pick them up, and when she rose the crow was on the roof of her truck. She shooed the bird away and climbed into her truck.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
T erry heard the sounds of an engine and tried to sit up.
“Help, please help,” Terry called out.
A horn sounded and he called out again, pounding his fist against the hull of the boat. He fell back, stared into the dull sky and lost consciousness.
Joseph and Abby heard Terry’s cries. They were close to the shoreline and the compass in the vehicle spun wildly.
“Help.” They heard the voice again, it was distant and weak.
Joseph did not need the voice or the compass. He was tracking his own way and had picked up the trail a few minutes earlier. The trail was getting stronger and he was confidant it was Terry’s. Joseph adjusted course until they saw the shadow in the distance.
“Abby, I think we have found him,” Joseph said.
“Thank goodness.”
Joseph pulled alongside the canoe and grabbed the side of the craft. Terry lay in a pool of bloody water and the sight of his twisted leg made Joseph’s stomach turn. Abby stood up and yelled to him.
“Abby!” Joseph said. “I need you to stay still and help hold the canoe.”
“We need to get him out of there,” she screamed.
“We cannot,” Joseph answered. “If we try to move him we’ll swamp us both, we need to tow him to one of the islands.”
She complied as tears streamed down her face. Joseph tied the canoe to the back of the ATV and moved forward with the canoe in tow.
“Look,” Abby said pointing
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