Mountain Madness by Daniel Pyle

missus.” He took the toothpick from his ear. “She was a liar, Georgie, and she was all wrong.” He popped in the unchewed end and chomped down.
    The boy changed position a little, got his feet behind him. No longer a hunched cat; now a sprinter waiting for the flat crack of the starting gun. “You’re lying,” he said in a voice much deeper and manlier than the one he’d used in the kitchen.
    “Nope. Daddies shouldn’t ever lie to their boys. But I promise you this: we’ll find you your rightful mommy. I will make things right.”
    On some level, he’d expected what happened next all along. The boy charged. Dave scooted sideways at the last second and reached out a hand. If he hadn’t moved quickly enough, the kid would undoubtedly have toppled over the railing and onto the forest floor below. Might even have brained himself on the very rock he’d tried throwing at Dave. Instead, Dave wrapped his hand around one of the boy’s flailing ankles and held on tight.
    The boy flew forward, not getting his hands out in front of him in time, hitting the two-by-four guardrail forehead first before dropping with a groan to the platform beside Dave. The crack of wood came at some point during the commotion, but Dave couldn’t pick out exactly when it happened or where the sound originated. It could have been the rail or one of the floorboards beneath them, or even one of the supporting tree limbs. Regardless, Dave wanted to get them down from there as soon as possible. He flipped the boy onto his back and pushed his hair away to examine the damage.
    The abrasion just above the left eye looked bad but not dangerously so. The kid ( Georgie , Dave thought, he’s Georgie now ) had his eyes closed and wasn’t moving, but Dave felt his heartbeat and saw the rise and fall of his chest. Just stunned, more than likely. Dave got onto his hands and knees, moved to the hole, dropped down to the first rung and dragged the child after him. Gritting his teeth, he wiped a fresh bout of tears from his tortured eye. He climbed down far enough to give himself some room and pulled Georgie onto his shoulder, crumpling a little at the added weight but able, just barely, to manage the load and keep hold of the tree at the same time. He spit his toothpick past the trunk, took a deep breath, and began the arduous descent.

SIX
    “FIRST THING IS I need you to relax, okay?” The guard uncrossed his arms, and one hand dangled by his utility belt as if preparing for a quick draw, though the item positioned where a normal policeman carried a holstered gun was, in this man’s case, only a two-way radio. He reached his other hand out to Libby’s shoulder in a comforting gesture but made no actual contact. “Now tell me again. Slowly.”
    Libby sighed and rolled her eyes so drastically that her head rolled a little bit with them. This was ridiculous. By now Trevor could be gagged and duct-taped into the trunk of some pervert’s car, the two of them already headed for Wyoming while she stood here flapping and re-flapping her gums.
    “His name is Trevor. Pullman. I gave him five dollars to ride the carousel,” she said. “He didn’t want me to wait with him. I stayed at the table.” Short, quick sentences. Just the facts, ma’am. “I got up to refill my soda. I turned around, and he was missing.”
    “Uh huh,” the guy ( S. Tucker according to his name tag) said, sounding less like a law enforcer than an urging psychiatrist. “And then?” He was massive. Maybe he sprinkled steroids on his breakfast cereal instead of sugar or took a raw egg break while his fellow guards sipped their coffees. If his face hadn’t been so meticulously razored, she’d have sworn she was standing here talking to a grizzly bear.
    “I’d seen him talking to a group of girls,” she said, trying to stand still but not able to keep herself from fidgeting. “I asked if they saw where he went.” She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. “They