THIRTEEN
Truman felt as if he’d had a door slammed in his face.
He tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter at the gas station as the attendant rang up his Doritos.
Back at Jefferson’s house, Mercy had made a phone call to her partner and then told him she had to leave. When he’d pressed for more answers, she’d shook her head. “Eddie says the bathroom mirror was broken at Enoch Finch’s home, but he didn’t notice the mirror when we were at Ned Fahey’s the other day, so we’re going to check.” She’d forced a stiff smile. “I’m sure I’m jumping to conclusions. I don’t want to waste your time with what is probably a wild hair. If it turns out to be something important, I’ll let you know.”
She’d driven off.
Leaving him with a hell of a lot of questions and no answers.
Broken mirrors.
He’d gone back to his office and Googled for crimes with the signature. No luck. He’d started to fill out a ViCAP request and realized “broken mirrors” wasn’t enough to create a useful search. More data was needed to narrow the field.
He’d have to sit on his hands until Mercy decided to share her information with him. He could call Sheriff Rhodes and put out some feelers. The man had worked law enforcement in the area for at least two decades and might know what Mercy was talking about.
But maybe it wasn’t a local crime she’d been reminded of. It could have been something she’d seen in Portland or during her previous posting.
Shit.
Frustration rolled over him as he dropped his change in the tip jar on the gas station counter.
“Later, Chief.”
Truman finally looked the scrawny attendant in the eye. “Sorry, Sid. I’m a bit distracted.” He kicked himself. It was a priority that he give his full attention to whoever was in front of him. Everyone deserved his respect. A large part of his job was knowing how and when to listen.
“I was sorry to hear about your uncle,” said Sid gruffly, dropping eye contact. His hair fell across his face, further hiding him from Truman’s view.
Truman was touched. It was the most personal thing the shy young man had ever said to him.
“Thank you, Sid. Enjoy your day.” Truman turned and nearly bumped into Mike Bevins.
“Hey, Truman, how’s it going?”
The men shook hands and bantered for a few moments until Mike’s sidekick stepped in the store.
Craig Rafferty looked away instead of meeting Truman’s gaze.
Asshole.
Some people in this town will never accept me.
He needed to accept that fact. Their reasons ranged from pure stubbornness to dislike of government officials. For some, the simple fact that he hadn’t been born on this side of the Cascades was reason enough to permanently view him as an outsider.
He wasn’t certain what Craig Rafferty’s reasons were, but his attitude toward Truman had been consistent since they’d met when they were teens.
Truman didn’t understand why Mike still hung around with Craig, but both men worked for Mike’s dad, Joziah Bevins, so Truman assumed Mike was just keeping the peace.
Truman nodded at Mike and headed out to his vehicle, remembering when he’d first learned what Craig was like.
“Go, Truman! Don’t be a fucking wuss!”
Truman backed up the steep slope with the rope swing in his hand, watching where he stepped in the dirt and weeds with his bare feet. He tightened his grip and held his breath as he dashed forward and leaped. The rope swung him far out over the fast-moving water, and for a split second he was suspended. He let go.
And fell and fell.
His skin stung as the freezing water slapped his body. Underwater, his lungs begged to suck in a breath, but he kept his mouth clamped shut. Bubbles surrounded his face and he pumped his arms and legs, propelling himself to the surface. He broke and gasped for breath.
Cold!
Cheers came from the guys on the bank. Truman shook the water out of his eyes and started to swim to shore. The current had already moved him far down from his entry point. His arms shook from the strain of fighting the current. Shouts made him look up, and he saw Craig Rafferty swing out over the water. Truman treaded water, enjoying the fear on Craig’s face and the huge splash. Cheers went up again, and Mike grabbed the rope as it swung back and worked his way up the bank. Truman took a few more strokes toward shore but kept an eye on Mike, waiting to see if he was going to flip upside down again.
Mike didn’t go. His gaze was fixed on the water. More shouts.
Four of the guys were pointing at the water and yelling.
Truman looked where they pointed, experiencing a split second of terror that a deadly river creature had appeared. Instead he saw Craig, facedown in the water, caught in the current and flowing rapidly downstream.
“Truman!” He heard Mike’s shout above the others.
He didn’t pause. He changed direction, putting himself on a collision course with Craig. His arms had tired and the cold water sucked the strength out of his legs. He pushed on, locking his gaze on Craig’s hair.
Lift your head!
Craig vanished below the water and panic lit up Truman’s chest. He tracked the course he believed Craig’s body would take and swam harder, pumping his arms and legs. Craig’s back surfaced and Truman adjusted his interception path.
Almost there.
Truman sucked in a deep breath and went underwater to use his strongest strokes. His fingertips touched skin. He lunged and caught Craig’s ankle. He let the current carry them as he worked his way up Craig’s body and turned his face out of the water.
“Craig! Craig!” He slapped the teenager.
Nothing.
There was no way to apply chest compressions as they shot down the river. Truman linked an arm around Craig’s neck and paddled one-handed toward shore. His progress was slow, the river rushing them farther downstream, but the shoreline eventually came closer.
“Crap!”
Big rocks littered the water where Truman estimated he’d finally reach shore. At the rapid rate they were moving, it would hurt when they hit one. He moved Craig to his other arm and braced his left arm to catch the rock.
The impact knocked the breath out of him, and he went under. He clamped his right arm around Craig’s neck, determined not to lose hold. He came up for air, and the rush of the water pinned him against the rock. At least they were no longer moving. His gaze estimated the distance to shore: fifteen feet.
So close.
But his energy was gone. He yelled at Craig and pinched his lips and poked him as hard as he could in the ribs. He welcomed the pressure of the water that held the two of them against the big rock, giving his muscles a small break, but now he had to fight to keep Craig above water. The current continually caught the other boy’s legs, trying to drag him past the rock. There was movement on the shore as the other guys arrived. They had cut the rope swing and one of them was tying it around Mike’s waist. Mike waded into the water, using the other big rocks to keep from being swept downstream.
“How’s it going?” he panted as he reached Truman and Craig.
“He’s not breathing,” Truman gasped.
“Are you okay to stay here if I pull him in?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He struggled to unfasten his arm from Craig’s neck. His arm had frozen in place. Mike grabbed Craig under the arms and turned onto his back.
“Pull me in!” he shouted. The guys on shore towed them away.
Truman watched Craig’s still face as they inched toward shore.
Open your eyes!
Two more guys waded into the water and helped pull Craig to shore. They circled around him on the bank, and Craig disappeared from Truman’s sight. Bare shoulders moved up and down as chest compressions were applied. Mike looked over his shoulder at Truman.
Truman couldn’t move from the rock.
One of the guys anchored the rope as Mike moved back into the water. “You stuck?” he asked as he reached Truman.
“Fuck yes. My legs can’t move. They’re numb.”
“Relax. Turn around.” Mike deftly maneuvered him into the same position he’d used to haul Craig to shore. Truman stared up at the blue sky and towering firs along the riverbank as Mike hauled him in.
He felt like a paralyzed baby.
Rocks grazed his butt and he rolled over to his hands and knees in the water. Every muscle shook. He tried to crawl the last few feet out of the water, but several hands grabbed his arms and lifted him to his feet. He stepped carefully, as no feeling was left in his feet from the icy water. He looked over and saw Craig on his side puking river water.
Relief nearly sent him back to his knees.
One of the guys slapped him on the back. “Nice job! You saved his life.” The others gathered around. More slaps on his back.
Truman couldn’t speak. He kept watching Craig heave and puke.
Mike led Truman to a rock and made him sit. Truman’s knees screamed as they bent. “You okay?” Mike asked.
“Yeah.”
“Craig’s gonna be all right.”
“I see that.”
“Nice job, hero.” Mike’s blue eyes crinkled as they smiled at him.
“Not a hero,” said Truman. “Any of you guys would have done the same if you’d been in the water first.”
“That water was fucking cold,” said Mike. “Comes straight off the Cascade snowmelt.”
“No shit.”
Craig sat up, wiping his mouth, and looked at the guys surrounding him. “What happened?”
“Truman saved your ass. You got knocked out in the water.”
Truman sat on his cold rock, feeling the water drip down his back and his lungs wince as he tried to take deep breaths. Craig barely met his gaze and then looked away.
Truman didn’t have the energy to speak.
Craig never looked him in the eye again after that. Truman had expected to be fully accepted after he’d risked his own life for Craig’s, but instead he’d been treated as an outsider even more than before. Mike tried to call him a hero a few more times that summer, but Truman put a stop to it. “I was in the right place at the right time. That’s not a hero.”
But now, more than a decade later, he thought about the incident every time he saw Craig Rafferty.
People are going to treat me however they decide. Nothing I can do about it.
He needed to ignore the people who wanted to keep him on the sidelines. There were plenty of good people in town who’d gone out of their way to make him feel welcome.
He was determined that Eagle’s Nest would be his home.