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Chapter Six - Into the Woods


Later that evening, Lauren and I were getting ready to decorate the tree and I had strung the lights all on the branches only to find out that they weren’t working right once I plugged them in. The ball of lights we’d dug out had already been stapled to the edge of the porch roof and there were no back up tree lights so Lauren suggested a quick trip out to the 24-hour Wal-Mart to get some new lights, which turned into a two-hour shopping excursion as we wandered around the store arguing about whether or not I needed to take advantage of the buy-three-get-two-free sale on the Hanes underwear 12-packs.

I was glad we’d gotten the porch lights done already. It was freezing outside, about twenty-five degrees and a little rainy with a snappy wind that would creep up your back. I had the Jeep’s heat turned up as high as it would go and the seat heater on, toasting my buns. “Frig it’s cold out,” I muttered, “Colder than it was in Calgary.”

Lauren nodded. “Next year, we do Christmas in Key West,” she said with a shiver.

We were driving home with our spoils (no new Hanes for Nick, in case you were keeping score), admiring the lights that downtown Franklin had put up for the holidays, glowing all festive and merry from the light posts and the big tree in the center of the huge roundabout. I came to a stop at the red light at the corner of 5th and Main and was looking at the big lit up NOEL blocks on the roof of the Starbucks when one of the pedestrians passing by caught my attention.

It was Ethan the Sbarro thief. He had a guitar strapped to his back and a messenger bag on his hip, wearing the same threadbare jeans and worn bomber jacket as he’d been wearing both the other times I’d seen him. But the difference was he looked like he was frozen half to death, his lips tight, fists balled up in his pockets, hunched over like he was trying to retain any shred of heat he could manage. “Hey,” I said, pointing out the window as he reached the far curb, “Hey, that’s the Sbarro kid.”

Lauren leaned forward to look. “He looks cold.”

“Yeah,” I said. I looked at her. “Should we offer him a ride?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

So when the light turned green, I put on my blinker and hung a left and slowed as he was walking past the Frothy Monkey. I unrolled my window. “Ethan,” I called. He didn’t look up. “Ethan!” I said louder. That time he did look up, looked toward the coffee shop, then turned back to look at me. His eyes lit with surprise. “You need a lift, buddy?” I asked, leaning out the window.

He hesitated, “I’m okay…” he said.

“You sure?”

He’d paused on the sidewalk, fists still buried in his pockets. His nose was all red.

“You look like you’re frozen half to death,” Lauren shouted, leaning forward to see him, “Please let us give you a ride sweetie.”

Seeing Lauren, he shrugged and walked over, pulling the back door open and sliding in, leaning the guitar against the seat beside him. “Thanks,” he said as he pulled the door shut.

“Not a problem at all,” Lauren smiled.

I pulled away from the curb.

“I’m Lauren,” she said, “Nick’s wife.”

“Cool. You must be Nick, then,” Ethan said, looking at me.

I realized I hadn’t even told the kid my name. No wonder he’d hesitated at the offer for a ride. “Yeah,” I said, “I’m Nick.” I wasn’t used to having to tell people who I was. I mean, most people already know when they met me so when someone actually didn’t have a clue it kind of threw me off a bit. “Nick Carter,” I added.

Ethan nodded. “Cool.” He looked around. “Nice Jeep.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “So where are we headed?”

Ethan hesitated, “I… uh… you can turn up here at Margin to Murfreesboro Road. If you wanna drop me off at Pinkerton Park, that’s cool, I’m just up Eddy Lane a bit, I can walk from the park.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lauren chimed, “We’ll bring you home, it’s not problem.” She turned in her seat to look back at him. “That’s a long walk for so late at night,” she commented, “Do your parents know you’re walking all that way in the dark?”

Ethan shrugged, “I mean, I’m fifteen, not five.”

“Yeah,” Lauren nodded. She looked at me.

I got the feeling she was trying to get me to say something the way she was looking at me, so I glanced in my rearview mirror at the kid. “Nice guitar,” I said.

This wasn’t what Lauren had been aiming for. She looked frustrated.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You play? I asked.

Lauren was looking out the window now.

“Yeah, some,” he answered. He paused, “Wait. I know you from someplace.” He squinted his eyes.

I smirked, “Well, I’m told I look like one of the Backstreet Boys,” I quipped.

“Nawh that ain’t it,” Ethan shook his head.

I looked at Lauren, who was stifling a laugh.

Ethan tilted his head. “Wait. I know. You look like that one dude in that movie -- that movie with Kaley Cuoco. The Sleepy Hollow rip off.” He nodded, “Yeah… yeah, he was like an asshole jock. That was on ABC a couple weeks ago for Halloween.”

“Yeah. That was me,” I answered, “And also I’m a Backstreet Boy.”

“No shit.” Ethan nodded, “Cool. You never know who you’re gonna bump into ‘round here.”

I was pulling up by Pinkerton Park, and I put my blinker on for Eddy Lane. He reached for his seatbelt. “Seriously guys, you’re okay, you can drop me here. I can walk from here.”

“I want to make sure you end up home okay,” Lauren answered, her voice firm.

Ethan ran his hands over the neck of his guitar. “Okay…” he murmured.

“Which house is it?” I asked.

“Uh… just… keep goin’, I guess,” Ethan replied. “It’s… it’s up here on the, uh, right.”

But there wasn’t any houses on the right. Only a giant corporate building.

We were just about to the end, where Liberty cuts off Eddy, when Ethan said, “Okay there. Sorry, I meant the left. Just… you can stop here. Thanks for the ride.” I put my emergency flashers on and pulled to the side of the road. A car that had come up behind us passed us as Ethan climbed out and grabbed his guitar.

“Merry Christmas,” I said.

“Merry Christmas,” Lauren added.

Ethan smiled and nodded, “Thanks. Y’all too. Later. Nice meeting y’all.” He closed the door and started walking towards a squat green house on the left.

I started to shift into drive, but Lauren’s hand shot out and stopped me.

“Wait,” she commanded. “I want to see him go inside.”

“What? Why?” I asked, letting my hand drop away from the stick.

“He doesn’t live here.”

“What do you mean he doesn’t live here?” I asked, confused, “He just said --”

“I don’t care what he said, Nick,” Lauren answered, “He doesn’t live here.”

“Then why would he have us drive him here?”

“I don’t know. But this isn’t his house.” She leaned forward, watching.

Ethan walked slowly up the driveway, hands on the strap of his guitar. He glanced back as he reached the walk way up to the door and waved. Lauren waved back. He smiled and walked up to the stoop, where he stopped and looked back again. He waved again. Lauren waved again, too.

“See?” Lauren asked. Ethan was digging in his messenger bag, glancing up every couple moments to see if we were still there.

“He’s looking for his keys,” I said.

“He doesn’t have keys, Nick,” she said. “I’m telling you, that kid doesn’t live here.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want us to know where he lives,” I suggested. “I mean, we’re strangers. He doesn’t know us from Adam.”

Lauren shook her head.

Then, as we watched, the front door of the house opened and a big guy was standing in the door frame. “See, look, there’s his dad or something to let him in. Maybe he just lost his keys.” But I’d no longer got the words out of my mouth than it became clear the guy was yelling at him, and Ethan bolted, running ‘round the side of the house, across the neighbor’s lawn and down the limited access road that led into Pinkerton Park to the Harpeth River.

“I told you!” Lauren said. “Drive down there. We gotta make sure he’s okay.”

“Lo… we can’t stalk the kid.”

“Nick, we can’t leave him out in the cold, either. Did you see that jacket? It wasn’t heavy enough for cold like this. He’s going to freeze to death!”

I pulled a Y-turn in the road, and turned down the Harpeth River access road until we met the closed gate and I put the Jeep in park. “Now what?”

“C’mon.” Lauren undid her belt.

“Jesus, you dunno what’s out there, that’s the woods,” I said.

“What are you afraid of? Running into a wild rabbit or something? It’s not like there’s bears and wolves in downtown Franklin, Nick.” Lauren climbed out of the Jeep, slamming the door shut and tugging on her coat and scarf as she climbed over the little access gate.

“Fuck,” I muttered, and I grabbed my own coat and skull cap and jumped out, yanking the skullie over my head, locking the Jeep behind us. I jumped the gate and jogged to catch up to her, because she’d already made some headway. “What’re we gonna do, search the woods ‘til we find him?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then what?”

“I dunno.”

“I’m glad this plan is fully thought out,” I said.

Lauren paused walking. “Nick, we can’t just leave a kid out in the cold. We’ll bring him home tonight if we have to. We have extra rooms.”

“He could be a serial killer rapist or something.”

“Nick. He’s fifteen,” Lauren said.

“Dexter started when he was like eight,” I pointed out.

“Dexter was a TV show.”

“I’m just saying.”

“He isn’t Dexter.” Lauren started walking again.

I sighed and followed after her.

The Harpeth River access road goes down a slight hill before splitting in a fork, one way leading to the walking bridge that crossed over the river on a trail that followed the train tracks out to First Ave downtown, and the other followed the Ewingville creek out to the Pinkerton Park playground area. Lauren headed toward the tracks.

“He could’ve gone either way,” I pointed out.

“There’s nothing down that way other than the playground,” she said, “I’ve jogged this trail before. I mean it’s been awhile, but I know there’s no shelter of any kind that way, unless he’s camping out in the play castle.”

“And there’s something this way?”

“I mean, there’s all kinds of little buildings along the tracks,” she answered.

I hate being in the woods to begin with, but being in the woods at night is even worse. I know we weren’t really in the woods, more like among some trees, but it still felt like the woods and I found myself looking around into the shadows, uneasy. “Lo, he could be anywhere.”

“Ethan!” she called out.

I sighed. She wasn’t going to give up ‘til we found the kid. “Ethan?” I joined her, pulling out my phone and turning on the flashlight feature so we at least had some light to see where the hell we were going with. We walked and called his name, stumbling over rocks and roots in the path ‘til we got to the spot where the tracks crossed the river. The path dropped down to one side of the bridge that supported the tracks, down to the river level, and there was a small, worn out-looking foot bridge there that didn’t look like it’d been replaced since the flood in 2010. Lauren’s sneakers slid on rocks as she went down the drop in the trail, and I hesitated to follow her. I hate that unsure footing feeling, a massive part of why I hate hiking - besides just the whole being in the woods bit, that is - but finally I slid down the little hill behind her. She was standing at the foot bridge. “C’mon, Laur. Use your head. That thing doesn’t look safe at all,” I said, catching her wrist to stop her. “Wherever he is, he obviously doesn’t want us to find him or knowing where he went.”

“I just hate the thought that he’s out here all by himself,” she said.

“I know,” I answered. “But you aren’t his mother. We aren’t going to find him if he doesn’t wanna be found at this point, Lo, we could’ve passed him a hundred times going through those woods,” I shrugged.

Lauren stared out across the river, at the trees and the dark over there, and sighed, frustrated. “You’re right,” she said.

We turned back to the little hill and started back up the path.

“What do we do now, though?” she asked.

“I dunno, we’ll call the police, maybe they can come out here and help him somehow,” I suggested.

“Don’t call the cops,” came a voice behind us, making us both jump. I turned, illuminating Ethan with the cell phone’s glow. He came out from behind some trees to the side of the tracks carrying his guitar, “Please. Not the cops.”

Lauren and I looked at each other.