****
Fred Simple searched the shop for the fifth time, hoping to find that Dooley had returned or to find some clue as to where he had been taken, but again he found nothing.
Was Barns right? Had Dooley simply gone on one of his excursions without telling him? It would be unlike Dooley to do that while he was home, but it was possible. Or had Dark truly returned last night for Dooley? He thought he remembered that happen, but was no longer certain. All the events of last night seemed unreal, so much like a bad dream that maybe that’s all that they were.
He decided to look for Dooley where Dooley usually went, in the countryside between town and the Reservation. He drove his old car towards Goth Mountain. An hour later he was hiking through wooded foothills when he heard a siren nearby. Police maybe? He walked towards the sound and found two police cars, an ambulance, and three other vehicles parked along an old logging road, probably the greatest concentration of people there since the logging days.
“Dooley?” Simple mouthed repeatedly, as he made for the ambulance at the best speed his wobbly legs could take him.
A medic was retrieving a stretcher from the back of the ambulance when he reached it. The wide-eyed man had a haunted look. “Has someone been hurt?” Simple asked him.
“Hurt! Christ no, butchered!” The man paused and turned away, then puked, or tried to, but could only heave convulsively a stomach that had already recently been emptied. “This stretcher is for the rest of the body pieces,” he said, after recovering. “Two people, it looks like. Men, we think.”
Simple could only stand there, his head spinning. His fault, it was all his fault. He had brought Dark here, or rather his book had. His one proud professional achievement had murdered his son.
Another stretcher was being carried out of the woods by grim-faced men; a blood-soaked blanket poorly concealed the lumps of body that it held.
Fred Simple couldn’t think anything anymore, he didn’t even notice when his own legs gave out and he crumpled to the ground.
When he opened his eyes a vaguely familiar, attractive, middle-aged woman was kneeling next to him and staring at him attentively. A name popped into his head. “Ann Goth?” he asked, uncertainly. The last time she had seen Ann Goth was when he went to the Goth cabin to complain about how much time Dooley was spending with that Goth boy. What was his name? But that had been more than a decade ago!
“Hello Fred,” she replied, smiling. “It’s been a very long time.”
“It’s my fault. Dooley, bless his soul, I should have been here more. My poor boy!”
“Fred, I saw the bodies. It was not Dooley.”
“What?”
“The bodies are not Dooley, I am certain.”
“How could you be?”
“I am positive.”
“She’s right, Simple,” said another voice. The pale face of Sheriff Barns came into view. “It looks like it was two of my cousins, Clevis and Mike Larkin. That’s their truck and it was their rifles we found near the remains.”
“I’m sorry,” offered Ann.
“Did I hear right? Your name is Ann Goth?”
“That’s right,” she admitted, as she stood and faced the sheriff. “And you would be?”
“Sheriff Barns.” They shook hands mechanically, while sizing each other up.
“It looks like you have two murders on your hands, Sheriff,” said Ann.
The Sheriff visibly shuddered but then recovered. “Must have been a bear. A hunting accident.”
“We both know better than that.”
“Had to be a bear; nothing else could have done it.”
“Dark!” exclaimed Simple, standing up. “What if it was that monster Dark! It was Dark that took my Dooley!”
“That’s crazy talk,” said Barns. “No human being could have done what was done to those men. But in any case, this is a dangerous place. A mad bear is someplace around here still, I’d wager. I strongly advise the both of you to leave the entire area until this thing is solved. Portland is the closest big city.”
”I’m going to look for my son until I find him,” stated Simple, resolutely.
“Ditto,” seconded Ann, though it was uncertain if she meant Dooley or Johnny or both.
Barns shrugged and waved his hand towards the forest. “It’s your funeral. Help yourselves.” He climbed into his squad car and drove away.
“Your Dooley is missing?” asked Ann.
“Yes, and I’m pretty sure that Dark took him. I had been working my way through the woods towards the Reservation, hoping Dooley would turn up, when I stumbled onto this bloody business. God, I just thought it had to be Dooley.”
“Does Dooley still hang out around the Reservation?”
“Quite a bit. The shaman there must see more of him than I do. I’ve been a lousy father. It’s all my fault that Dark took him.”
“Come with me to the Reservation. The Tribe will help you, I’m sure. And for certain I will.”
“You’ll help me?”
“I’ll certainly do whatever I can, Professor.”
His legs almost gave away again, this time in part from relief, and Ann had to help him walk to the rental car. He had felt so helpless, so totally alone. Now someone would help him!
“Sit in the back, Angela,” said Ann. “Professor Simple isn’t feeling well.”
Angela stepped out of the car for the first time. Simple and two other men within eyesight, a deputy and a medic, openly gawked at her. Not too many women in that part of the country dressed and looked like Angela. “We have to take him with us? Whatever for?”
“To help him, Angela. You wouldn’t understand.”
Angela muttered complaints, but went along with it.
Soon Ann was driving towards Goth Mountain again. “If it isn’t too upsetting, tell me about Dark, Professor.”