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Bo sat up, squinting his eyes through the fog of sleep. “Sheriff Duncan?”
“Yep, it’s me, Bo. Sorry to wake you, son, but I have some folks out here needing to speak with you,” the Sheriff explained.
Bo motioned for me to lay back down and he pulled the sheet up to my neck, mouthing the words, “What the fuck?”
Bo pulled on gym shorts and made his way to the screen door. I watched as the Sheriff stepped to the side and gestured toward the river. Bo peaked around him to see who he was pointing to. “Who the fuck are they?” Bo asked, bringing his attention back to the Sheriff.
“A Mr. Crawford and a Mr. Honeycutt. A coupla uptight suits who blew my phone up all night long and now they’re on your doorstep, son.”
Bo turned back to me and shrugged his shoulders.
“Fuck!” I hissed. “That’s my daddy and Phillip, for fuck’s sake,” I whispered.
“Can you step outside please, Bo?” the Sheriff instructed.
“I don’t know them assholes,” Bo stated, keeping his station. “Tell ‘em to get off my property.”
“I can’t do that, son. The older gentleman says you’ve gone and kidnapped his kid.”
“I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, Dave,” Bo said. “No kids around here.”
The Sheriff leaned closer and whispered loud enough for me to hear. “Please don’t call me Dave in front of these men, Bo. This is official business.”
I crawled out of bed and went to the front window, pulling faded cloth curtains to the side and looking toward the dock. A patrol boat was lashed to the dock where my daddy and ex-boyfriend stood peering up at the shack. I froze knowing I couldn’t exactly run and hide in the bushes again, even though I wanted to.
“Invite them up then, Sheriff. Let’s see what they want,” Bo said.
“I done told you what they want, son,” he argued. “You got a Hayes Crawford Jr. living here with ya?”
“Maybe,” Bo answered. “Maybe not.”
“Cut the bravado, son. These two fellas have been a pain in my ass this mornin’ and I don’t need this sorta start to my day. The older gentleman claims to be connected to the governor or some shit and you know damn well I can’t be dealin’ with that crap either.”
I stepped alongside Bo, surprising him because he thought I was still in bed. “I’m Hayes Crawford Jr.,” I announced, wrapped in a towel since I was still buck naked. “You can tell those two to go home and I’ll contact them on my terms.”
“Are you being held against your will, Mr. Crawford?” the Sheriff asked, after pulling out a small notepad from his back pocket.
“God, no!” I spat. “That’s ridiculous.”
I watched in horror as my father and Phillip decided to take things into their own hands and start walking toward the shack after spotting me. I pushed past Bo and unlatched the screen door, stepping through. “What the hell are you two doing?” I asked.
Bo came to my side while the Sheriff stood on my other, carefully keeping an eye on the interaction. Phillip was the first to reach the bottom of the steps.
“You’re alive and you didn’t think to call anyone,” he yelled. “Your momma is a wreck, Hayes.”
Daddy couldn’t be outdone by Phillips histrionics. “Goddamn it, Hayes. We thought you were dead, for Christ’s sake. Your momma is a mess and well . . . Jesus, son!” my father vented.
“Calm down, Daddy. I hit my head and may have been concussed,” I explained. “I couldn’t call you for a month because I lost my memory and didn’t know who I was. Lucky for me this person saved my life,” I finished, holding Bo’s arm.
Phillip turned to the Sheriff. “What’d I tell you?” he asked. “We told you this wasn’t normal. We got a call on the reward hotline last night saying Hayes is alive and we knew immediately it had to be foul play, Sheriff. This proves it. He has a concussion.”
“I am perfectly fine, Phillip, but I might not have been if Bo hadn’t saved my life,” I countered. Phillip glared at Bo and the agitation seemed mutual when Bo puffed his chest out and stared back, looking pissed.
My father climbed the steps and got in the Sheriff’s face. “You getting all this? My son has a concussion. He lost his memory and he couldn’t call us to tell us he was alive. This . . . this . . . stranger has been holding him against his will.”
“Is that true, son?” the Sheriff asked me.
“Of course not. I am fully mentally intact and am thinking clearly,” I defended.
