Page 91 of Midnight Creed

Grace led them to where they had started. Jason and Scout had moved to an empty parking lot across the street, where he was helping a couple of people set up a large canopy tent. An SUV had parked close by, its tailgate up, displaying cases of water, battery-operated lanterns and several coolers.

Scout noticed them first but waited for Jason before crossing the street.

“Volunteers,” Jason said, waving a thumb over his back. “They brought some water and sandwiches for all of us.”

Creed was surprised Jason didn’t already have one of the sandwiches in his hand. The kid had an insatiable appetite, and all they had in their packs were protein bars.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Creed told him about the fertilizer.

“I want to take Grace by the houses that Scout alerted to. Something tells me that trail is fresher than a week ago.”

Scout and Jason took one side of the street. Creed and Grace took the other. Brodie and Hank followed. Creed asked both dogs to “find Will.”

They weaved around parked vehicles, trying to avoid going up onto front lawns and keeping out of driveways. Both dogs went into tracking mode at the same time, and Creed knew which houses before Jason pointed them out. But Grace didn’t stop. She slowed to wave her nose over the weeds in an alley, then moved on. Tree roots buckled the concrete of a common area and drew her attention. But again, she moved on.

On the other side of the street, Scout wanted to run. Jason strained to keep up. Despite each dog’s different stops and starts, it became clear they were headed not only in the same direction, but to the same place. A small park with a playground took up half a block. It looked well maintained but poorly lit. Obviously intended for daytime use only. The area was more sand and clay than grass, with a couple of huge live oaks.

Creed could make out the shadowed forms of a swing set, slide, and merry-go-round. As soon as they all stepped into the park, he could tell where both dogs were headed. Far off in the corner, on the edge of the square, was a Dumpster.

60

When Deputy Trevor handed Will’s drawings to Taylor, she felt like finally she could help. The overwhelming sense of having no control over the situation nagged at her. However, she wasn’t prepared for the emotion that swept over her at seeing his illustrations now displayed as evidence.

She tried to ignore the slight tremor in her fingers. Tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Then she carefully took both Ziplock bags. Each contained a piece of paper that had been crumpled but was now smoothed out.

She knew instantly they were Will’s, though they were rough sketches. She recognized the energy and action of bold lines, some pressed down so hard she could see the indentation in the paper. She’d seen him do this before, almost manically getting the visual down on paper before it could leave his imagination.

“They’re definitely Will’s,” she told him.

“Do any of these scribbles mean something to you?”

Taylor stopped herself from correcting Deputy Trevor. These were sketches. At worst, rough drafts. But never scribbles. This wasn’t the time for a lesson, but she could still hear Will. The memory of him schooling her tugged a smile at the corner of her lips.

In the first drawing, a blue pickup roared down a road. The marks symbolizing speed followed behind. Those were the deep pressed lines of different lengths with puffs of dust in between.

“Do you know anyone who drives a blue pickup?” the deputy asked when she took too long to answer.

“No, I don’t.”

Taylor stared at the driver Will had drawn. He emphasized the man with his head poking out the vehicle’s window; the head disproportionately larger than the pickup to make the figure look more menacing.

Then she added, “He does a lot of action adventure scenes. And sometimes they include villains.”

“But this looks like the driver is a vampire.” Impatience slipped into his voice as if he was handed an assignment he’d already warranted as a waste of his time. “I mean vampires. Why would he draw a vampire? Is that just all a part of his imagination? Does he draw them a lot?”

Will had definitely made the driver a vampire with a prominent widow’s peak and the mouth open to expose bloody fangs.

She shrugged. “He does have an active imagination. But no, that’s not a familiar figure. At least I haven’t seen him draw a vampire before.”

She remembered the surfers riding the waves at sunset. He’d created that one while they had dinner on the beach watching. He did that a lot, sketching what was in front of him, almost unaware that he was doing it. But then there were the stunning illustrations of the superhero he’d created, crafting him from Jason. The action scenes were pure fiction. Picking up a vehicle with his mechanical arm and flinging it into an evil army descending on a helpless village.

Yes, her son had an amazing imagination. And that’s why she almost gasped at the next drawing.

It was a little boy running away. Yellow hair, lime green and blue sneakers. He carried a red oversized backpack. Will had drawn himself. In the distance was a forest, thick green blotches atop black tree trunks. And off to the side...a bright yellow machine. The bulldozer.

“Do either of these make sense to you?”