hurt again,” Bradley said. “You have my word.”
Timmy wiped his arm across his face and nodded. “A man came,” he said. “He told me he wanted to take me somewhere and I told him no. I told him I had to wait for Mikey .”
He took a deep shaky breath. “He told me he put my bike in his truck,” Timmy said. “He said he needed my help to get it out.”
“And did you help him?” Bradley asked.
Timmy shook his head. “I was walking,” he said slowly, remembering. “I was walking up the hill and then something hit my head. He hit me with something. Then he grabbed me. And he… and he…”
He started sobbing, his little body shuddered uncontrollably. “I told him I wouldn’t tell!” he cried. “I promised I wouldn’t let anyone know that he hurt me. I just didn’t want to die.”
Suddenly, he took a deep breath and froze. He looked at Mary and Bradley, his eyes wide, dawning awareness spreading across his face. “And then he killed me?” he whispered slowly.
Wiping away a tear, Mary nodded. “Yes, Timmy, he killed you.”
“But I don’t want to be dead,” he said. “I’m only ten.”
“Who did this to you?” Bradley asked. “Timmy, tell me who the bad man was.”
Timmy looked over at Bradley and shook his head, his face filled with despair. “I can’t remember. I can only see the sun above him in the trees, shining down in my eyes, when he was hurting me,” he said. “I can’t… I can’t remember him.”
“That’s okay,” Bradley said. “You were very brave. You have helped us a lot.”
“Can I go home now?” he asked.
“Well, I think we still have some things to figure out,” Mary said. “But would you be willing to come home with me? Just for a little while.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “My mom says not to go with strangers.”
“Your mom is a very smart woman,” Bradley said. “But I think she would agree it would be safer for you to come with us, than stay by yourself in the woods.”
He looked slowly around the woods, and then looked at Mary and Bradley.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “Mike, um, Mikey Richards lives at my house.”
“ Mikey ?” Timmy said, relieved. “Oh, if he’s there, I know I’ll be safe.”
Chapter Eleven
Snow was piled up against the side of the barn and the main area of the farmyard had been cleared with the scoop on the tractor. The snow pile was almost as tall as the white fencing that surrounded the pasture next to the milking barn. Black and white Holsteins calmly pulled hay from a large round bale sitting in a metal hay feeder. A grouping of bird feeders behind the house were filled with sunflower seeds and there were several ears of dried corn nailed to flat boards for the squirrels to enjoy. A symphony of roosters crowing, chickens cackling and cows mooing filled the morning air.
Mike glided through the barnyard of his family’s farm. The scene was so familiar. He remembered pulling on rubber boots and sloshing his way through calf-deep mud to reach the barn and do the morning chores. He had actually enjoyed the earthy sweet scent of cow manure.
But this morning it was his mom who was walking back from the chicken coop with a wire basket of brown eggs in her arms. He fell into step next to her. She paused for a moment and slowly looked around.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
She looked confused. “Allen?” she called to Mike’s dad. “Allen, did you hear that?”
His dad came out of the barn, a grain bucket in his hand.
“Alice? Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I thought I heard something,” she said. “I thought I heard someone call mom.”
He walked over to her. “Are you hearing him again?” he asked softly.
She nodded, and brushed a stray tear away. “Yes, I could swear I heard him,” she replied. “You know, just saying ‘Hey, Mom,’ like he used to do. I guess I’m just hearing things.”
Allen put his arms around his wife and hugged her. “Memories.
Timmy wiped his arm across his face and nodded. “A man came,” he said. “He told me he wanted to take me somewhere and I told him no. I told him I had to wait for Mikey .”
He took a deep shaky breath. “He told me he put my bike in his truck,” Timmy said. “He said he needed my help to get it out.”
“And did you help him?” Bradley asked.
Timmy shook his head. “I was walking,” he said slowly, remembering. “I was walking up the hill and then something hit my head. He hit me with something. Then he grabbed me. And he… and he…”
He started sobbing, his little body shuddered uncontrollably. “I told him I wouldn’t tell!” he cried. “I promised I wouldn’t let anyone know that he hurt me. I just didn’t want to die.”
Suddenly, he took a deep breath and froze. He looked at Mary and Bradley, his eyes wide, dawning awareness spreading across his face. “And then he killed me?” he whispered slowly.
Wiping away a tear, Mary nodded. “Yes, Timmy, he killed you.”
“But I don’t want to be dead,” he said. “I’m only ten.”
“Who did this to you?” Bradley asked. “Timmy, tell me who the bad man was.”
Timmy looked over at Bradley and shook his head, his face filled with despair. “I can’t remember. I can only see the sun above him in the trees, shining down in my eyes, when he was hurting me,” he said. “I can’t… I can’t remember him.”
“That’s okay,” Bradley said. “You were very brave. You have helped us a lot.”
“Can I go home now?” he asked.
“Well, I think we still have some things to figure out,” Mary said. “But would you be willing to come home with me? Just for a little while.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “My mom says not to go with strangers.”
“Your mom is a very smart woman,” Bradley said. “But I think she would agree it would be safer for you to come with us, than stay by yourself in the woods.”
He looked slowly around the woods, and then looked at Mary and Bradley.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “Mike, um, Mikey Richards lives at my house.”
“ Mikey ?” Timmy said, relieved. “Oh, if he’s there, I know I’ll be safe.”
Chapter Eleven
Snow was piled up against the side of the barn and the main area of the farmyard had been cleared with the scoop on the tractor. The snow pile was almost as tall as the white fencing that surrounded the pasture next to the milking barn. Black and white Holsteins calmly pulled hay from a large round bale sitting in a metal hay feeder. A grouping of bird feeders behind the house were filled with sunflower seeds and there were several ears of dried corn nailed to flat boards for the squirrels to enjoy. A symphony of roosters crowing, chickens cackling and cows mooing filled the morning air.
Mike glided through the barnyard of his family’s farm. The scene was so familiar. He remembered pulling on rubber boots and sloshing his way through calf-deep mud to reach the barn and do the morning chores. He had actually enjoyed the earthy sweet scent of cow manure.
But this morning it was his mom who was walking back from the chicken coop with a wire basket of brown eggs in her arms. He fell into step next to her. She paused for a moment and slowly looked around.
“Hey, Mom,” he said.
She looked confused. “Allen?” she called to Mike’s dad. “Allen, did you hear that?”
His dad came out of the barn, a grain bucket in his hand.
“Alice? Are you okay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I thought I heard something,” she said. “I thought I heard someone call mom.”
He walked over to her. “Are you hearing him again?” he asked softly.
She nodded, and brushed a stray tear away. “Yes, I could swear I heard him,” she replied. “You know, just saying ‘Hey, Mom,’ like he used to do. I guess I’m just hearing things.”
Allen put his arms around his wife and hugged her. “Memories.