talking to someone.
A year ago, Bradley might have thought she must have hit her head and was experiencing delusions. But after only five months of knowing Mary, he realized that she indeed was talking to someone. He just couldn’t see them.
He continued towards them, being careful not to rush onto the scene and frighten her new client. She turned to him and smiled as he climbed over the log and sat down next to her. She pulled off one glove and he pulled off his and they held hands. The little boy appeared in front of him.
“Timmy, this is my friend, Bradley Alden,” Mary explained. “He’s the Chief of Police in Freeport.”
“Hi,” Timmy said. “Do you get to carry a gun?”
Bradley nodded, “Only when I’m on duty.”
“That’s cool,” Timmy replied.
“Timmy was telling me that he came here to do some fishing and must have gotten lost,” Mary said, her voice shaking slightly. “He’s ten years old. His birthday is August 14, 1982.”
“How did you get here, Timmy,” Bradley asked. “Did someone give you a ride?”
He shook his head. “No, I rode my bike,” he explained. “My friend, Mikey , was going to meet me but he never came.”
Why does this sound so familiar? Bradley wondered. What is it about his story?
Then he remembered.
“Timmy, did your friend Mikey have to clean out the chicken coop, so he couldn’t go with you?” he asked.
Timmy grinned. “Yeah, his mom caught him before he could get away,” he laughed. “So, he was supposed to meet me here.”
“How did you know…?” Mary asked.
“Timmy is Mike Richards’ friend,” Bradley explained. “Mike told me about Timmy when we went into Chicago.”
“Yeah, but no one ‘ cept teachers call him Mike,” Timmy said. “He’s just plain old Mikey .”
“Okay, Timmy,” Mary said. “We have to ask you some questions so we can help you find your way home.”
“Sure,” he said. “But I know where I live, if you could just give me a ride.”
Mary wiped away a stray tear trailing down her cheek and Bradley squeezed her hand for comfort. “Well, it’s not quite that easy,” she explained. “But, don’t worry, we’re on the right track.”
Timmy looked alarmed. “Did something happen to my mom?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Mary reassured him, “we just have to figure a couple of things out.”
“Okay,” he replied, looking a little suspicious. “What do you need?”
“Okay, think back to when you came to the park,” she said. “Try to picture it in your mind.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”
“You rode your bike to the lake,” Mary said. “What was the weather like?”
“It was really hot,” Timmy said. “It was going to be a scorcher.”
“So, you got to the park and where did you go?”
“Here to our secret spot,” Timmy said. “I stashed my backpack in the tree and I got my fishing gear out. I had a whole fresh cup of night crawlers.”
“Then what happened?” Mary asked.
“I guess I started fishing,” he said.
“No, Timmy, don’t guess. Think back, you got your tackle out and you were about to go fishing and then…”
Timmy’s breathing began to increase, his little chest was rapidly rising and falling, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to remember that,” he said.
“Timmy, I’m so sorry,” Mary said, “but you have to remember that. You have to remember it so we can help you get home.”
Tears slid from closed eyes down translucent cheeks. “I don’t want to remember!” he screamed.
Mary placed her hand over her mouth, took a deep shuddering breath and controlled the tears that were threatening.
“Timmy,” Bradley said. “You can tell us because we’re here to protect you. Nothing bad can happen to you again. And when you tell us, we can help you.”
Timmy opened his eyes and looked directly at Bradley. “You can protect me?” he asked. “I can’t get hurt again?”
“No, Timmy, you will never get
A year ago, Bradley might have thought she must have hit her head and was experiencing delusions. But after only five months of knowing Mary, he realized that she indeed was talking to someone. He just couldn’t see them.
He continued towards them, being careful not to rush onto the scene and frighten her new client. She turned to him and smiled as he climbed over the log and sat down next to her. She pulled off one glove and he pulled off his and they held hands. The little boy appeared in front of him.
“Timmy, this is my friend, Bradley Alden,” Mary explained. “He’s the Chief of Police in Freeport.”
“Hi,” Timmy said. “Do you get to carry a gun?”
Bradley nodded, “Only when I’m on duty.”
“That’s cool,” Timmy replied.
“Timmy was telling me that he came here to do some fishing and must have gotten lost,” Mary said, her voice shaking slightly. “He’s ten years old. His birthday is August 14, 1982.”
“How did you get here, Timmy,” Bradley asked. “Did someone give you a ride?”
He shook his head. “No, I rode my bike,” he explained. “My friend, Mikey , was going to meet me but he never came.”
Why does this sound so familiar? Bradley wondered. What is it about his story?
Then he remembered.
“Timmy, did your friend Mikey have to clean out the chicken coop, so he couldn’t go with you?” he asked.
Timmy grinned. “Yeah, his mom caught him before he could get away,” he laughed. “So, he was supposed to meet me here.”
“How did you know…?” Mary asked.
“Timmy is Mike Richards’ friend,” Bradley explained. “Mike told me about Timmy when we went into Chicago.”
“Yeah, but no one ‘ cept teachers call him Mike,” Timmy said. “He’s just plain old Mikey .”
“Okay, Timmy,” Mary said. “We have to ask you some questions so we can help you find your way home.”
“Sure,” he said. “But I know where I live, if you could just give me a ride.”
Mary wiped away a stray tear trailing down her cheek and Bradley squeezed her hand for comfort. “Well, it’s not quite that easy,” she explained. “But, don’t worry, we’re on the right track.”
Timmy looked alarmed. “Did something happen to my mom?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” Mary reassured him, “we just have to figure a couple of things out.”
“Okay,” he replied, looking a little suspicious. “What do you need?”
“Okay, think back to when you came to the park,” she said. “Try to picture it in your mind.”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”
“You rode your bike to the lake,” Mary said. “What was the weather like?”
“It was really hot,” Timmy said. “It was going to be a scorcher.”
“So, you got to the park and where did you go?”
“Here to our secret spot,” Timmy said. “I stashed my backpack in the tree and I got my fishing gear out. I had a whole fresh cup of night crawlers.”
“Then what happened?” Mary asked.
“I guess I started fishing,” he said.
“No, Timmy, don’t guess. Think back, you got your tackle out and you were about to go fishing and then…”
Timmy’s breathing began to increase, his little chest was rapidly rising and falling, and he shook his head. “No, I don’t want to remember that,” he said.
“Timmy, I’m so sorry,” Mary said, “but you have to remember that. You have to remember it so we can help you get home.”
Tears slid from closed eyes down translucent cheeks. “I don’t want to remember!” he screamed.
Mary placed her hand over her mouth, took a deep shuddering breath and controlled the tears that were threatening.
“Timmy,” Bradley said. “You can tell us because we’re here to protect you. Nothing bad can happen to you again. And when you tell us, we can help you.”
Timmy opened his eyes and looked directly at Bradley. “You can protect me?” he asked. “I can’t get hurt again?”
“No, Timmy, you will never get
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