Hawks Mountain - Mobi (22 page)

Morris nodded. “I see. You may take a seat, Mr. Hart.”

Nick sat and grinned triumphantly at Becky. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Collins.”

Becky could only see the back of George Collins’ head, but his ears had turned a bright crimson, and she had to wonder if angry steam issued from his nose as well.

Judge Morris shuffled through his papers, studied them for a long, agonizing moment, then he raised his head and let his gaze go from George to
Lydia
. Finally he spoke. “I was going to render my decision tomorrow, but I don’t see the point in waiting. This is all pretty cut and dried so I’ll do it now and save us all a good night’s sleep.”

Becky grabbed Nick’s hand and held her breath.

The courtroom, as still as a graveyard on Halloween Eve seemed to hang in limbo,
waiting.
Becky could hear Nick’s breathing beside her and her own, but not another sound. Judge Morris shuffled some papers again. Then more unnerving stillness while he read something.

Finally, he removed his glasses, folded his arms on the bench and looked directly at George. “Mr. Collins, in your suit, you’ve alleged that your wife doesn’t currently have a job, where as you have a substantial income from not only your job as mayor of
Carson
, but also some rental properties you own. Furthermore, you say you would be better able to provide a good, safe, secure home for David and provide him with funds for a college education. Thus, it would seem to be in the best interest of the child to place him in his father’s custody.” He paused and once more rifled through the papers before him.

Lydia
gasped, and Becky’s heart hit the floor.
No, please. Please, God, don’t let this happen. Not again.

George sat up straighter and threw Becky a knowing smirk. But she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him know that something inside her had died.

Again the courtroom went dead silent. Becky’s nerves wound tighter and tighter until it became painful to draw a breath. Nick’s fingers tightened on hers, and he covered their clasped hands with his free one.
Still the tension inside kept building.

Say something
, she begged the judge silently.
Please, say something, anything. Just get it over with.

But the silence stretched out for long, agonizing minutes while Judge Morris studied his notes. The shuffle of receding footsteps drifted to them from the hallway outside. Muffled voices followed. A door slammed. Then the sounds faded away and the deathly stillness settled in again.

Finally, Judge Morris cleared his throat. “However, that said and duly considered
,
it is also my understanding that the child has lived most of his life with his mother and during that time you’ve been an absentee father.
Furthermore .
 . . ” He held up a manila folder. “Your file indicates that you have been delinquent in paying your court decreed support payments to the boy’s mother.” He laid down the folder.

“This all leads me to wonder why in blazes you want custody of child you seem to have no time for, nor do you care much about his welfare.” Pointing a finger at George, who had slid down a bit in his chair, Judge Morris went on, impatience clear in his expression and his tone. “Being a parent means more than allowing the child the use of your last name, living in a fine house and eating filet mignon for dinner every Sunday. There’s a matter of love, compassion, respect and nurturing.
A distinction that seems to have escaped you.
With that in mind, I find the support payments you’re making to Mrs. Collins for your son to be less than adequate. I’m therefore increasing them. My clerk will tell you the new amount.

“From all reports submitted to this court, your wife is doing an exemplary job of raising your son, despite you. And she will continue to do so. Full custody of David James Collins will remain with Mrs. Lydia Collins. Now, if we have no further business, I’m going home to eat my wife’s pot roast.” He looked from one lawyer to the other and when neither of them said anything, he banged the gavel. The thundering sound echoed around the silent room. “Court’s adjourned.”

Becky let out the breath she’d been holding and wanted to cry with relief. She threw her arms around Nick’s neck and squeezed so tight he made a strangling sound. “Sorry.” Cheeks flaming, she stepped away and turned to
Lydia
, who was silently crying with relief and joy.

Before Becky could say anything to
Lydia
, George strode toward them, stopped for a moment, glared, sputtered, mumbled something unintelligible, and then stormed from the room, his lawyer trailing behind him like a faithful puppy.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that any of them realized Judge Morris had not left the courtroom. “Mrs. Collins, you’re a good mother with a fine boy. You’ve done a fantastic job, and don’t let that man tell you otherwise. Now, I
am
going home to my pot roast.” He smiled and started toward his chambers.

Just then, the doors at the back of the room burst open and a portly, out of breath matron came running up the aisle. “Gone,” she cried. “
He’s .
 . . gone.” Clutching her side and leaning on one of the spectator seats, she gasped for breath.

Judge Morris hurried around the bench to join them. “Calm down, Lois. Who’s gone?”

“The
boy .
 . . Davy.
He’s .
 . . run away.”

Lois, on the verge of hysterics, haltingly told them Davy had requested a bathroom break, and, when she’d gone to check on him, she’d caught him listening at the courtroom door. She told him he had to come back into the anteroom, but before she could get him in there, he’d started crying and run from the building so fast she couldn’t catch him. She’d chased him down
Main Street
, but he’d disappeared and then she caught sight of him running into the woods at the foot of Hominy Ridge.

Given Lois’ rotund size and the fact that she smoked close to three packs of cigarettes a day, it didn’t surprise Becky that she couldn’t keep up with a healthy, robust ten-year-old. But she didn’t say anything. The poor woman was devastated enough. No sense adding to her anxiety.

Judge Morris immediately instructed the bailiff to alert the fire department to start organizing people to help search for Davy. Becky called Granny Jo and asked her to meet them at
Lydia
’s so she could sit with her while Becky went with Nick to look for the boy.

On the way back to town from dropping Lydia off at her house, Becky asked the question that had been eating at her since they’d found out Davy had run off. “Why do you suppose he ran?”

Never taking his gaze off the road, Nick shrugged. “Lois said he was listening at the door. Obviously, he heard something that made him bolt.”

Becky frowned.
“Maybe, but what?”
Then something clicked, and she recalled what the judge had said after summing up all the pluses for George’s case.

Thus, it would seem to be in the best interest of the child to place him in his father’s custody.

If Davy heard that and not what came after it, he would have assumed his father had won. Coincidently, it had been about that time that she’d heard a commotion in the outside hall.

“My God, Nick.”
She swiveled in her seat to face him. “Do you suppose he heard Judge Morris say that it would be in Davy’s best interest to be placed with George and never heard what followed?”

Nick threw her a quick look. “You may be on to something, but if that’s true, this is not going to be easy because he’s not going to want to be found.”

Becky fell silent. She hadn’t lost the mother this time, but what if she lost the child?

A large crowd
had gathered outside the firehouse by the time Nick and Becky had dropped off a hysterical
Lydia
at her house, settled her in with Granny Jo to take care of her and then returned to town. All together it couldn’t have been much more than an hour and a half since the boy had run off. Nick gaped in amazement at how fast these people had responded. He’d never seen anything like it before.

Sheriff
Ainsley’s
police car sat near the curb, its blue light flashing sporadically, eerily washing over the people milling about nearby. The only fire truck
Carson
owned had been pulled out of the apparatus bay and sat partially on the street, making room for the firefighters laying out maps of the surrounding area. On one side of the big room, a table had been set up for volunteers to sign in. Once signed in, they were then directed to another table where they were assigned a search area, then to another table where the Carson Volunteer Fire Department’s Ladies Auxiliary handed out bottles of water and small snack packs to each volunteer.

Conspicuously missing from the throng was George Collins. This was his son, for heaven’s sake, the kid he’d just battled his wife for. In Nick’s mind, this proved beyond all shadow of a doubt that the mayor’s bid for custody was nothing more than a way to punish
Lydia
for putting him through an embarrassing public divorce. Nick had to wonder how this man had gotten enough votes to become mayor. The only explanation he could find was that he’d made promises to hang the moon for
Carson
, and they’d believed him. Come next Election Day, he figured George Collins was in for a rude awakening.

Outside, Sheriff
Ainsley
issued flashlights and formed the volunteers into groups. “Stay together,” he told them. “Hopefully, this won’t take too long, and you won’t need the flashlights. But in case it goes longer, come back after you’ve been out there for a couple hours. If you get tired, someone could get disoriented or hurt. We don’t need anyone getting lost or injured. Good luck.” Then he sent them out to start scouring their assigned areas and turned to the next group and repeated his instructions.

Nick looked around. “I can’t believe how well organized they are.”

“Probably because this is not their first go-around with something like this.
Besides, this community is like a big family. When one is in trouble, everyone steps up to the plate to help. See that up there?” Becky pointed to a rock face with a sheer drop of a couple of hundred-plus feet on the west side of Hominy Ridge. “That’s a favorite place for rock climbers. When I was a kid, they would, on a regular basis, haul someone out of there
who
was either hurt or had gotten turned around trying to get back to their car at the base.” She took Nick’s arm and guided him inside to sign up.

They were assigned the area to the north of where Lois said Davy disappeared. After getting their flashlights and water bottles, they joined the rest of their team and headed into the woods.

While they’d been in court,
the day had turned hot and muggy. With no breezes stirring inside the dense foliage, it didn’t take long for both Becky and Nick to look like they’d showered in their clothes. Nick’s water bottle and Becky’s had long since been empty.

“I need to rest.” Becky dropped down on an outcropping of rocks and used the hem of her blouse to wipe the sweat from her face.

“No!”

Her head snapped up. “What?” She’d never heard Nick’s voice so sharp.

“We have to keep going. I have to find him.” Nick paced back and forth in front of her. Sweat beaded his brow and ran down the sides of his face. Impatiently, he swiped at it with his hand.

She watched him with heightened concern. The muscle in his jaw vibrated. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Agitation and worry filled his expression. The way Nick had plowed through the underbrush and now, this unrelenting need to move on was out of character with the level-headed Nick who had helped her fix
Lydia
’s house.

She tried to reason with him. “Nick, we
have
to rest. We won’t do Davy any good if we get hurt or collapse.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. His pacing continued. “I have to find him.” He repeated it over and over like a mantra. Each time it gained urgency.