Ethan scrambled up and over three large fallen trees. The roots sticking up out of the ground were taller than Ethan. The little stream had washed away at the soil until these towering trees had nothing left to hold onto. It was probably nothing more than a gentle breeze that knocked them over.
As Ethan carefully cleared the last trunk, he looked down the hill, trying to see through the thick trees. It seemed, here and there, that he could see glimpses of blue and green.
Still limping, he hurried along the bank. A smile spread across his face. His ankle seemed to hardly hurt at all. Another glance up. Yes, there was definitely a clearing up ahead. He could see green grass.
His stomach growled.
I wonder if mom saved any pancakes for me. Hope she’s not mad.
He wanted to run, but his ankle still felt a little unstable. With a little hop, he started skipping. One tender step on the sprained ankle, two hops on the good foot.
The slope began to flatten out. Ethan bobbed his head from side to side, his eyes searching through the trees. A flash of blue.
There it is. Mirror Lake.
He slowed down to a walk and took a deep breath.
The little stream emerged from the thick trees into a large meadow. The grass was tall and green in the marshy, muddy soil. The stream wandered across the meadow, pooling here and there.
As Ethan emerged from the trees into the meadow, he was still smiling. Immediately, his eyes began darting back and forth across the clearing. The smile turned to confusion. He limped several steps out into the clearing and then stopped dead.
His heart began to pound. He drew in a sharp choppy breath. His legs felt weak. He spun around taking in his surroundings.
The towering pines were so thick they seemed like a giant wall. Green grass and mud. But no campers. No tents. No lake. Nothing.
Slowly, Ethan wandered out into the middle of the clearing. His eyes searching up above the trees. He spun his head back and forth, circling all around the limited horizon.
Where’s Mt. Baldy? It doesn’t make sense.
His eyes continued to search for the distinctive peak that rises to the west of Mirror Lake. It is the tallest peak in the whole area. A large grayish brown peak that rises above the tree line, the only peak around that’s completely barren. Stephen had pointed it out to Ethan as they first arrived and began setting up camp. Ethan knew if he could spot the top of Mt. Baldy, he could head in the right direction.
Where is it!
Suddenly he felt dizzy. As he continued to turn, he lost his balance and stumbled, falling down on his hands and knees. Leaning down until his elbows rested on the ground, he dropped his forehead into both hands. He wanted to vomit.
Oh, man. What am I gonna do?
Ethan stayed on his elbows and knees for several minutes. Slowly he rocked back and forth. His tear-filled eyes shut tightly, his jaw clenched.
~~~~~~
The standard government issue telephone on Gabe Kealoha’s desk in the Summit County Search and Rescue office rang. Gabe leaned forward and pulled his large frame out of the chair where he’d been waiting.
“Gone and got his-self lost,” he said to himself. “Had a feeling.”
The phone rang again and he snatched the receiver up, “Yeah, this is Gabe.”
“Gabe, it’s Lloyd again,” the voice on the other end was serious.
“We’ve got a lost boy, don’t we.”
“I’m afraid so. It’s been at least 6 or 7 hours since anyone has seen him.”
“No sign of him up at Peterson?”
“No and there was a couple camping up there who would have seen him if he had been there at all,” Lloyd answered.
Gabe paused. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. His mind choosing carefully the next step.
“OK, Lloyd, I’ll tell you what. You’re gonna have campers packing up and leaving the Mirror Lake campground. You gotta talk to them. We need their names, phone numbers, and addresses. Find out if any of them saw anything.”
Although a lost child in the rugged wilderness of the Uintahs was not a regular occurrence, Gabe and Lloyd had been in the search and rescue business long enough to know the routine well. There were the immediate needs: a good description, determining precisely where and when he was last seen, and defining the grids to be searched. The next hour would be absolutely critical.
“I’ll get a hold of the on-call searchers. And I’ll call the media,” Gabe explained.
“And I’ll make the rounds at the campground,” Lloyd added.
“What about the family? Think they could they get some volunteers who could drop everything and come up here to help search?”
“I’ll check. Maybe extended family or people from their church.”
“OK. Call and give me an update every twenty minutes.”
“Will do, chief.”
~~~~~~
Stephen Jacobs felt a huge lump forming in his throat. He held Lloyd’s satellite phone up to his ear and listened to the distant ring. Another ring.
Please be home!
Ring … Ring … Click, “Hello?”
“Dad, it’s Steve.”
“Steve? I can barely hear you.”
“Yeah, Dad, we’re still up in the Uintahs.”
“How’s it going?”
Stephen paused for a second, uncertain of how to say what he had to say. “Dad … Ethan is lost.” A wave of emotion swept over Stephen as the words came out of his mouth. His chin began to quiver.
“Oh, no. Oh, no. Steve, what happened?”
“We really don’t know right now, Dad.” Sniff. “But I need your help.”
“Of course.”
Stephen gave his dad several names. Samantha’s brother, a couple of neighbors, some people from their church. Stephen’s dad wrote down the names in complete silence. Then he wrote down the instructions for the searchers. Again without a word. The two men paused.
When Stephen’s dad finally spoke, his voice was choked with emotion. “We’ll be praying for you, Steve.”
Stephen swallowed hard. “He went fishing early this morning. Then he was gone … We thought he probably hiked up to another lake nearby. But he wasn’t there. I don’t know where he could’ve gone, Dad.”
~~~~~~
Vince fumbled with the tent pole, turning it around, sliding it into the fabric of the tent. He pushed the pole trying to bow it up into place. The tent slipped away from him and the pole fell to the side.
Vince grabbed the second pole and threw it down into the dirt. He turned his back on the tent and walked down the hill.
Why wait, Vince? You don’t need a tent. You didn’t come up here for this. You know why you came up here.
He shook his head violently. “Shut up!” he screamed.
Vince wandered aimlessly for several minutes. He kicked at the dirt and swore under his breath. Making his way in a large circle, he soon found himself back at the crumpled tent. He stood over it for a minute or two. Finally, he grabbed the pole and gave it a second try. This time, the pole bowed up into place and Vince quickly secured the end of the pole to the base of the tent. The second pole slid easily into place and in another minute, Vince had his pack and sleeping bag tossed inside. After unrolling his sleeping bag, Vince cracked open another warm Coke. Then he laid down and stared at the shadows swaying on the side of the tent. Gradually, his eyelids grew heavy. He blinked slowly, then he was asleep. The memory came as a dream.
The scoutmaster’s old van was full of gear and boys. The smell of sweat, dirt, and campfire from a full week of camping was almost overpowering. The boys were franticly trying to find a sign or license plate that contained a “Z” to declare a winner to the alphabet game they had played most of the drive home. As they turned off the main road into their neighborhood, they all screamed in desperation.
Vince sat slumped against the window, pretending to be asleep.
Suddenly, all the boys went quiet and they stared out the front of the van.
Danny nudged Vince. “Hey, Vince, wake up. Something’s going on at your house.”
Vince opened one eye. Parked in front of his house were two police cars. Slowly, he sat up.
The scoutmaster slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Spackman home. “What do you suppose is going on, Vince?” the scoutmaster asked.
“I don’t know,” Vince answered as he squirmed with embarrassment. “Can we get my stuff out of the back?”
“Sure,” answered the scoutmaster as he put the van in park. He climbed out of the van as Vince slid the side door open. It took a minute to pull Vince’s duffle bag out from under some of the other gear. The scoutmaster kept glancing up at the house for any sign of movement. But all the blinds were drawn and he couldn’t see a thing.
“Well, at least the cop’s lights aren’t on or the sirens—so hopefully it’s not an emergency.”
“Yeah,” Vince replied weakly as he gathered up his sleeping bag and duffle. He glanced up to see all the other boys with their faces pressed to the van windows. Jimmy looked like he was laughing.
“Do you want me to stay and make sure everything’s OK?” the scoutmaster asked.
“No, that’s OK,” Vince answered as he scooped up his gear and headed into the house.
“Well, alright then,” said the scoutmaster still staring at the house. He shook his head a little and then looked at Vince walking across the front lawn. “Hey, Vince, thanks for coming to camp with us.”
Vince didn’t respond. His head was down and he whispered under his breath, “Just get outta here. Freak show is over.”
The front door squeaked loudly as Vince pushed it open. Marshall met Vince immediately at the door. Marshall reached down and took the duffle bag from Vince’s hand. “Hey, Vince, trouble’s brewin’,” he said quickly. “The cops want to talk to you.”
“To me?” Vince asked incredulously. “What for? I’ve been gone for a week.”
“It’s all gonna be cool. You’re OK.”
“Where are they?”
“In the kitchen.”
Vince spun around and started back for the front door. Marshall stepped in his way. “Vince, I told you, it’s OK. Dad’s lost his stupid ivory-handle knife and he thinks it’s been stolen.”
Vince took a quick step to get around Marshall. “VINCE! Is that you?” Mr. Spackman bellowed from the kitchen. “Get in here now, son.”
Vince froze. He looked at Marshall’s face for a second. Marshall stared blankly back.
“VINCE!” Mr. Spackman yelled again. Vince dropped his gaze to the floor and turned to go into the kitchen.
Seated at the kitchen table were two uniformed police officers. Mr. Spackman sat across from them. On the table were several official looking forms. One officer was writing, the other stood up and motioned for Vince to take a seat at the table.
“Hello, Vince. I’m Officer Johnson and this is Officer Nelson.” The other man looked up from his writing and nodded at Vince, then went back to writing.
“We have a few questions for you,” Officer Johnson said as Vince took his seat.
“I’ve been gone for a week,” Vince offered immediately.
“We know,” Officer Johnson replied.
“Don’t you take that tone with the officer,” Mr. Spackman scolded.
Officer Nelson looked up again from his paperwork. “Look, son, here’s the situation. Your father has discovered that he’s missing something that’s worth a lot of money.”
Officer Johnson broke in. “It’s standard procedure to talk to everyone who knew where it was kept to see if we can piece together when it was last seen.”
“What are you talking about?” Vince asked.
“Your father owns an ivory-handled knife. Do you know the knife we’re talking about?”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“Can you tell us where he keeps the knife?”
“I think he keeps it in the top of his closet.”
“Have you seen it sitting in the top of his closet?”
“Well, he keeps it inside a box.”
“What kind of box? Do you remember?” Officer Johnson jotted down a quick note.
“Just a box. Why the hell does it matter what kind of box?” Vince answered nervously.
With a quick flick of his wrist, Mr. Spackman slapped the back of Vince’s head. “I told you not to take that tone, boy.”
“Would you know the box if you saw the box?” Johnson pressed.
“Yeah,” Vince answered.
The officers paused and glanced at each other.
“Let’s go in the bedroom,” Officer Nelson said as he stood up. Vince looked up at him and Nelson gestured for him to stand. “Lead the way, Vince.”
Vince began to shrug his shoulders and glanced over at his dad. Mr. Spackman glared back at Vince without even blinking. Vince stood and lead the officers down the hall to his parent’s bedroom.
When they reached the closet, Vince pulled the door open. Glancing up at the top shelf, he saw the box. “It’s that one,” he said pointing at a black shoebox.
“Do you think you could reach it for us?” Johnson asked.
Vince reached up in a half-hearted effort and shook his head.
“C’mon, Vince. You’re tall enough to reach that,” Nelson said forcefully. “Really reach for it.”
Vince got up on his toes and got a finger on the bottom corner of the box, scooting it forward. Then he used his fingertip to scoot it out far enough that he could grab the end of the box. As he wrapped his fingers around the top of the box, Officer Johnson reached out and took the box from Vince’s hand.
Officer Nelson stepped forward and examined the fingerprints in the dust on the top of the box. Vince’s hand had matched almost perfectly the prints that the officers had already seen on the box.
“Where’s the knife, Vince?” Nelson said, taking a step toward the twelve-year-old who was scrambling backwards.
“You took my knife!” Mr. Spackman was about to explode in full rage.
Vince snapped his head back and forth from the officer’s face to his father’s face. Officer Johnson put a big hand in the middle of Mr. Spackman’s chest to hold him back.
“What? Did you gut fish and carve sticks with a $10,000 knife?” Mr. Spackman struggled to get past the officer and get a hand on Vince.
“Calm down, sir,” Johnson said firmly.
“Vince, where is the knife?” Officer Nelson was clearly growing impatient with the whole situation.
“You never even asked me if I took it. … I’d have told you it’s right in my duffle bag in the living room,” Vince said cowering in the corner.
“You better show it to us. Come on,” Nelson said as he wrapped his hand around Vince’s elbow and pushed him toward the living room.
Twenty minutes later Vince was sitting alone in the living room. His father was outside on the porch arguing with the officers.
“I know I got my knife back,” Mr. Spackman shouted for the tenth time. “But I’m telling you I want to press charges. How’s he gonna learn if you don’t do your damn job and show him what it feels like to be a thief!”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“Yes, I think it’s necessary!” Mr. Spackman bellowed. “I want you to take him. Now!”
