CHAPTER 11 - Amon

B right and early Thursday morning I go outside and find Collin sitting on my porch messin' with his phone, Mercy at his side. She wags her tail at me, then licks my hand. Collin turns his head up as he stands and pockets his phone. "Ready?"

I nod. "Yep. I'll get King from the kennel. Two dogs are better than one." I do that and a few minutes later I'm back and we head into the woods with the dogs.

King and Mercy could be related, that's how much they look alike. Mercy has a fluffier coat, and King is a good twenty pounds heavier than her, but they are both all-black German shepherds. And even though I was told that Mercy was a cadaver-school dropout, it must've been some kind of mistake because she's a helluva tracker and King has earned the highest certifications for both urban and wilderness search and rescue, so I'm pretty certain that we're gonna get to the bottom of this mystery in quick order.

"Did you bring the scent?" I ask Collin once we get a little further up the trail I saw Sawyer take.

Collin nods and pulls a pen out of a sealed plastic bag. He holds it out for the dogs and lets them get a sniff. Then he says, "Seek."

There is a pause here and I relish it. It's my favorite part of training dogs like this because they actually stop and think once you tell them a job. It's a small pause and if you're not looking for it, it flies by so fast most people miss it.

But I see it. Their brains are working. They're getting ideas. And then they're off.

Neither of them are wearing bells, but Mercy and King work well as a team and one will go up ahead to stay on track, while the other will hang back so we can keep up and follow.

When Collin and I catch up, it's King waiting and Mercy is long gone, on track. Then King takes off again, and we follow.

I already know we're going to that old mine, but that was just a guess on my part. The dogs taking us there is the confirmation we need in order to take the next step.

When we come out of the woods and the mine is directly in front of us, Mercy and King bark, then sit. Their signal that the track has ended.

Collin studies the rocks covering the entrance. There are quite a few big boulders that we'll never be able to move unless we get a front loader out here. He looks at me and shrugs. "It doesn't make much sense, Amon. If the scent ends here, and here is a wall of rocks, then where did Sawyer go?"

It's a good question. "He had to have gone in, obviously."

"When you followed him, did you see any missing rocks to indicate he went inside?"

"No," I admit. "But he probably knew I was following him and doubled back."

"Hmm." Collin considers this.

And while he does that, I grab one of the smaller rocks, about the size of a bowling ball, and pull it out. Behind it is nothing but darkness. But that's just proof that there's a space back there.

Collin bends down, snapping a flashlight off his belt and clicking it on so he can shine it into the hole I made. "There's a door. It's only a few feet in. Steel, definitely locked because I can see a little lit-up security pad. But I don't think Sawyer went in. At least not this way."

I lean in and he moves out of the way so I can see, and sure enough, he's right. "You think there's another door and Sawyer disappeared through there?"

"Maybe." I straighten back up and so does he. "But there's a creek over there. Maybe Sawyer just left this track on purpose? Or suspected he was being followed so he doubled back in the creek?"

I look over at the creek. It's only twenty feet or so. "He suspected I was following him yesterday and took precautions? Wouldn't the dogs go to the creek if this was the case?"

Collin shrugs. "There's probably a million ways to trick a dog, Amon. And I know yours are all extra-special smart, but doubling back is the logical answer. If there was another way in, why would Sawyer bother coming out here at all? Why not just go straight to that door?"

He's right. I think Sawyer's interest, and by extension, Charlie's as well, is due to the fact that they do not have access. "Well, what should we do?"

Collin thinks for a moment, then clips his flashlight back on his belt. "Let's leave it alone for now. I'm sure we could remove enough rocks to get in there, but then what?" He shrugs. "We can't break that door. We'd need a front loader or some explosives to do that. And we don't have either of those things."

"So we just let it go? We just let him come up here and do secret shit on our fuckin' land and pretend it's not happening?"

"I didn't say that," Collin says. "I'll talk to Ryan and see if we can get some equipment up here. We'll get that door open, but it's not happening today, Amon."

"It goes to Blackberry Hill, doesn't it?"

"Probably."

I let out a breath. "Should we call General Forbe?"

Collin considers this, then shakes his head. "Nah. It's really none of his business what we do up here, is it?"

"It's not," I agree.

"So fuck him. And fuck Charlie. I'm tired of this shit. We bought this land to get away from them and now it's starting to feel like we're just digging ourselves in deeper."

Part of me feels guilty about this because I was the one who showed Collin the compound back when we were looking for real estate—on the suggestion of Charlie Beaufort, I realize. But I was so excited about coming home, I didn't really question Charlie's motives. It was a serious mistake, but it can't be undone now. We're here. And we're staying here.

So I just sigh. "Yeah. It does feel that way."

The next morning it's raining buckets so there is no chance of doing anything out at the mine, and it's Friday, so the guys only have half a day of dog testing before they are released for the weekend. I do my part in the testing—which takes place in the big outbuilding when the weather's bad—and then turn my attention to more intriguing things.

The continuation of my courtship of Rosie Harlow.

This involves a ride down into Disciple and an unscheduled meeting with Jim Bob Baptist. Ester Adkins, Rosie's great-aunt, is typing away on her keyboard when I enter the little stone building that acts as the government office of Disciple.

"You wipe those muddy feet, Amon Parrish." Ester says this without even looking up from her computer tasks. "I am not a maid and I do not do floors."

I chuckle. Some things never change. But I do wipe my feet before I approach her desk.

"Can I help you with something, Amon?" Ester doesn't look at me. Just keeps going about her business.

"Does Jim Bob have a minute? I need a favor."

Ester stops typing and then tilts her head down so she can look up at me from over the top of her glasses. "Is this Revival business? Because it's Friday, Amon. And we only do Revival business on Fridays."

Ester will tell you this no matter what day you walk in, but it's fine. Because it actually is Revival business. "It is, Ester. It is."

"Well, go on in then." And she nods her head towards the thick, maple double doors that lead to Jim Bob's office.

So that's what I do and on the other side of those doors I find a contemplative Jim Bob standing in front of the large window behind his desk with his back to me. Jim Bob is a big man. Big as in muscular and imposingly tall, not heavy with extra weight. I suspect he had his share of traveling when he was my age because there's a picture of him all dressed up in military police uniform sittin' on his desk.

It's not facing out, so I suspect most people don't even know it's there. And hell, maybe it isn't no more. But I was in this office nearly every week when I was a teenager and at least a dozen of those times I was alone because Jim Bob was busy elsewhere. So I would sit in his desk and poke through it like the heathen criminal I was wont to be and I always paused to reconsider our mayor when I looked at that picture of him.

In fact, that picture might actually be where I got the idea to join the marines.

I walk up to the desk and clear my throat. I have not talked to Jim Bob since that whole fiasco up on Blackberry Hill when Collin chewed his ass out on the helicopter ride home. So I'm maybe a little bit nervous. "Jim Bob? Can I have a moment?"

He turns his head, but his massive body stays where it is. "Amon. What can I do for you?"

I look out the window to see what's got him so pensive. It's a nice view of the Revival tent up on the hill. Since it's raining, all the scaffolding is up and there are white lights shining dimly against the contrast of the sky, which makes the whole thing appear very fairy-like since the sky is dark purple and gray, covered in thunderheads. "Well, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor."

Jim Bob turns, smiling. Which surprises me because I thought he might be a little put out about this favor. He waves a hand at the chair behind me, then takes a seat behind his desk, making the old leather chair creak from his weight. "Have a seat, Amon. Would you like a cigar?"

I sit and decline the offer. "No, thanks."

"Well, what can I help you with?"

He's still smiling, and this kinda worries me. So I ask this question first. "Are you mad at me?"

"Am I mad at you?" He leans forward a little, putting his elbows on the desk. "No. But I'm not gonna lie, I am disappointed that you boys don't want to continue a tradition that is so important to this town."

I nod. Because I can see his point. "Well, the fact is, I'm here to ask you if I can participate in the Revival next weekend."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Fourth of July?"

"Oh, wow. I guess I hadn't realized it was coming up so quick. But… yeah. That's what I'm asking."

"Why?" His brow furrows. "Why now? I mean, you boys did basically tell me to go fuck myself."

"We did." There's no point in denying that. "But you see, Rosie Harlow and I are starting up a thing and I would like to surprise her next weekend by showing up at the Revival in costume. So we can have a date. You know, the way Collin got one with Lowyn."

Jim Bob frowns. "The Revival is not a fantasy dating service, Amon."

"I know that. I'm not trying to be disrespectful or nothing. I just want to make Rosie happy."

Jim Bob leans back again, letting out a long sigh. "Well, I like Rosie. She's Ester's grandniece, after all so I feel like she's family. And I want the best for her, of course, so… I will let you participate. On one condition."

Here it comes. But I was prepared for this, so I'm ready to negotiate. "What is it?"

Jim Bob smiles big. "You stick around for the whole season."

"As security? Because I will, but I'll be alone. Collin won't?—"

"No," Jim Bob interrupts. "Not security, son. As a player." He smiles big again. "A major player. How about that, Amon Parrish? I'll rewrite the script for next weekend, putting you in character, giving Rosie a complimentary part, and I'll even throw in a big ol' basket on her front porch bright and early on Sunday morning with a costume change inside."

I picture this. I picture my date with Rosie happening just like it did for Collin and Lowyn. It was a pretty good day. "Can we do the dance?" I ask.

Jim Bob nods, his grin wild now because he knows I'm gonna agree. "Oh, I will make sure there is lots of dancing. I'll go all out, Amon. We'll give Rosie the date of a lifetime—which she deserves—and she'll be smitten with you for the rest of her life."

Again, I'm picturing this. Never in all my years of man-whoring around the world have I had such an elaborate date with a woman. But Jim Bob is right, Rosie does deserve this. "You got a deal, Jim Bob."

His eyebrows go up again. "No limits? No questions? I mean, what if I cast you as a Depression-era farmer and her as a downtrodden wife?"

I shrug. "It's not about the costumes or the role-playing. It's about Rosie and me. I'm only asking for an opportunity here, Jim Bob. Making it special is up to me."

He stands up and extends his hand across the desk. "You've got yourself a deal."