Lost seeds, p.9
Lost Seeds, page 9
Travis grabbed Jason’s hand, pulling him onto the porch.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Travis stepped off the porch toward the sidewalk. “You stood there not saying anything to your mother. Goddammit, say something. Where’s Rosie? Your mother is breaking apart and you have nothing to offer up? You know Rosie’s her baby. So you left her on the sidewalk while you went to pee? Did you even go back to the school and search for her? Did you walk into any of the stores along the street? Give me something, dammit!”
“I thought she walked home.” He trotted behind Travis.
“Climb in the car. You’re a sensitive kid, but at twelve years old, you gotta grow up, man.”
Travis started the vehicle and pulled away with Jason staring out the passenger window.
Crossing the railroad tracks, Travis found composure. “Hey, fella. We really don’t have a tight uncle-and-nephew type of bond. I mean, we never talk sports or anything that young men enjoy. But I got to tell you, you’re not a baby and you understand what’s going on with this swimming crap. You were the man in this situation and should’ve been careful and never left your sister’s side. What were you thinking?”
Travis examined the blank-faced boy staring out the passenger window with nothing to say in return.
Chapter 18
Another Father’s Nightmare
July 12, 1965
At the school building, Waylon slammed down the phone and darted out to his car. “How could I think Jason had the maturity to keep track of Rosie,” he said.
Waylon peered between houses and buildings as he headed toward the railroad tracks. Speeding down the road, his car thumped across the tracks and made a left onto Main Street, heading toward the swimming pool. Nothing. No cars sitting in front of the building. His motor still running, Waylon jumped out and ran to the glass double doors and pulled hard. Locked. He peered inside at empty hallways. No movement echoed along the waxed tile floors.
The pool water glistened like a sheet of blue ice after a full morning of classes. Waylon pressed his forehead against the glass to see as much as he could inside, then jerked backward to run around the entire perimeter of the building, hoping to find Rosie sitting somewhere in the shade, waiting for her brother. Nothing.
Jogging back to his car, he jumped in and put the car in drive before completely closing the door. Waylon guided the car along the street toward downtown, gazing into bushes, into storefronts, and any home that dotted the road, believing Rosie would appear like a mirage. He came to the nature trail and stopped.
He slammed the steering wheel with one hand. “Dammit, where could she be?”
Waylon stood on the sidewalk where Jason had said he’d left Rosie. He was pacing back and forth, staring into the woods next to the park, when Travis’s car arrived at the curb. Hearing his brother-in-law’s voice, Waylon turned around, ran past Travis, and jumped into the back seat of the car.
Waylon glared at Jason. “Son, tell us where you last saw her. Point to the exact spot on the sidewalk.”
“I, ah, I, ah, left her on the sidewalk while I went into the bushes to pee,” Jason said.
“And which patch of bushes did you go in and exactly where on the sidewalk did you leave Rosie? Show us.”
Waylon got out of the car and walked around to the front and opened Jason’s door.
Both men followed Jason, continuously looking around for any sign of Rosie. Jason casually walked to an area a block up the street from the sign where he and Rosie had entered the woods. He pointed to a clump of bushes skirting the wood’s edge.
“That’s where I ran to pee, and Rosie stood on the sidewalk right there.”
Both Waylon and Travis ran into the woods, calling Rosie’s name. Waylon went deeper into the woods of the nature trail. Travis ran up and down the street and across to an open dry cleaner. He asked the clerk if he had noticed a little girl, describing Rosie. He went to several stores and offices along the opposite side of the woods, but no one offered any help or remembered seeing Rosie. Jason sat in the grass cross-legged with his head in his hands, observing the activity. After close to fifteen minutes, the men met back on the street.
“Waylon, it’s time to call the police.”
Jason sported a slight smile as he turned away from Waylon and Travis to walk back to Waylon’s car.
Waylon followed and said, “Jason, please try to remember more. Are you sure this is the right spot?”
Jason nodded and climbed into the back seat of the car without looking at his father. He closed the door hard, crossed his arms, and lowered his head. Waylon smacked the car window, turned, and walked over to Travis to talk on the sidewalk about what to do next.
“Rosie is Mother’s baby, you say, Uncle Travis?” Jason said, pounding on the car seat. “Well, the baby is gone and never coming back. I hate her! I had all the tools to make it happen, and she disappeared. Just like magic. I will be the one noticed and loved now.”
As Waylon and Travis prepared to separate and drive to the station in their own cars, an officer arrived in a patrol car. Beau jumped out in his dark blue uniform, gun strapped to his right hip and handcuffs hanging from his wide black leather belt. He jogged over to Travis and Waylon.
“Fran called my desk and said you might be here looking for Rosie. We’ll find her, she can’t be far,” he said as he came to a stop in front of the two men.
Waylon relayed Jason’s story and the efforts that he and Travis had made to find Rosie.
“Well, I’m going to call this in to the police desk from my radio and bring some help over here, and then I want to interview Jason.” Beau went to his car and radioed dispatch, reporting a lost girl, describing Rosie the best he could, and asking if they could call another officer to the City Center Nature Park.
When Officer Conner Jaffee arrived in his cruiser no more than two minutes later, he spotted two men talking to Beau. Jaffee sat, shaking his head, then slowly exited the car.
“Where’s the emergency, Officer Thompson,” Jaffee said as he walked up to Beau. “This call seems no more important than a cat stuck in a tree, looking at these two fellas.”
Beau explained the situation to Jaffee.
“How long has she been missing?” Jaffee asked.
“Between one and two hours at this point.”
“Beau, we typically don’t spend our time unless the person has been gone over twenty-four hours. The girl may be wandering around and will eventually find her way home. Saline is not a big place. What do you want me to do?”
“Help me find her. She’s only five years old, and tiny. It would be easy for someone to swipe her off the street.”
“I’ll give you a few minutes. I can walk into the woods for a bit, but then I have to leave to do something more important. Whose kid is she anyway, one of your many offspring?”
“She’s mine,” said Waylon.
“And what’s your name?”
“Waylon Thompson. What’s yours?”
“Ah.” Jaffee folded his arms. “You’re Beau’s brother. The town’s legendary athlete, and the man stirring up trouble lately. The sergeant also told us about some threats. I should leave, but I already said I’d check out the woods.”
Jaffee traveled aimlessly around for one minute. “I didn’t see anything. Come make a report tomorrow if she doesn’t show up.” He rested his hands on his belt, turned around, and started walking back to his cruiser, ignoring any further discussion.
“Jaffee,” said Beau, “I’m not waiting, man. This is my niece, and the search starts now. I’ll file a report at the station while these two take Jason home. I’ll meet you there in about an hour.”
Chapter 19
The Depths of Anguish
July 12, 1965
Bernie and Loretta sat in the living room, staring out the window. With her nausea returning, Fran had gone back to bed.
Suddenly, Bernie jumped up and grabbed the phone. “I’m calling Dad! He always knows what to do.”
Mae answered.
“Mom, Rosie is missing,” said Bernie.
When Mae digested Bernie’s words, she yelled toward the middle room, where Dub sat casually in his rocking chair, enjoying the evening farm report on the television.
“Dub, come to the phone. Hurry up!”
“What? Somebody die?” Dub jumped out of his chair and took the receiver.
“Daddy, Rosie is missing! Waylon and Travis are looking for her. They’ve been gone a long time,” Bernie said, explaining what had transpired over the past hour.
Loretta fell to her knees, crying.
Bernie cradled Loretta with one arm and pleaded into the receiver: “Daddy, can you and Mom come as soon as possible? I need help taking care of Loretta and Fran here at the house.”
“Jesus, I haven’t had my heart ripped out like this in more than forty years,” Mae said, grabbing Dub’s arm and looking at the only picture she had of her son Junie, as a toddler standing on the porch of their home in Morriston.
Dub rubbed Mae’s back and said, “I’ll find our baby.”
Those were the words he’d said to her almost forty-five years ago.
They jumped in their truck, speeding off with gravel spewing into the air.
A block up the street, Tim rounded the corner in his old blue Renault and noticed the back of Dub’s black truck moving ahead faster than usual. He slammed his foot on the brake. The Renault skidded on the gravel road and stalled in the intersection. Tim’s head hit the steering wheel, but he looked up to witness the black truck rumble over the railroad tracks and descend the other side of the hill and out of sight. Breathing rapidly, he checked the mirror and laughed at the blood oozing out of the broken skin in the middle of his forehead.
Dub’s face appeared in the mirror of the Renault. Get your shit together and stay out of my life.
“Can’t you see I am,” Tim said to the image.
Wiping the blood that threatened to impede his sight, Tim started the car and proceeded to the Briscos’ home, easing toward the back of the shack, near the outhouse.
He sat in the car without moving. A ladybug crawled across the windshield. Cottony seeds from dandelions floated in the air, finding their way into the car. Gray birds took turns snatching seeds from the wooden birdhouse sitting high on a pole next to the shack. These things permeated Tim’s solitude in the car until the blare of a freight train, the metal wheels rattling along the track taking it to its destination, launched him out of the car to retrieve the items he’d placed in his trunk. He commenced the last project inside the shack.
Mae and Dub arrived at Loretta’s in less than thirty minutes. By that time, Travis and Waylon had returned to the house to drop off Jason. Loretta laid her head on Mae’s shoulder, her face covered in tears.
“I am the worst mother. I didn’t protect my baby. I let Jason walk home alone with Rosie, thinking those evil people wouldn’t harm them, that they would go home and not come back after class. I know they took my baby.”
“What are you talking about?” Dub said. “You know who took her? Who is the son of a bitch? I’ll kill him. This won’t happen to another one of my babies.”
“It’s probably the same people that called the house and hung up or the people at the pool today. This morning they stood there along the sidewalk, waving their horrible signs so we couldn’t see their faces. I didn’t say anything to them because I wanted to rush the kids inside. I should’ve just canceled my appointment and walked them home, but I left them for those people that don’t give a damn about our children.”
“Loretta, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” Waylon asked.
“You were in a meeting, and you said Jason could be responsible.”
“Oh, Loretta, you can’t blame yourself,” Mae said. “You had no way to know this would happen.”
Dub rushed over to Waylon and Travis. “Waylon, do you know if any of the fellas watched Jason and Rosie walk home today? We need action. There’s no way this will happen again. I will crush whoever did this. Tell me all you know about what happened.”
Waylon and Travis briefed Dub on all the activities from the time Loretta called Waylon at the school to the present.
Dub said, “She didn’t randomly disappear.”
Each man nodded in agreement.
“Travis, go over to Bootsie’s and gather the fellas to organize a more thorough search. We need to fan out and question every store owner along the route Jason walked.” He turned to Waylon. “You go talk to Bill Davis at that administration office and make him tell you something about those protesters. Beau needs to pressure the police to do a search now! I’m going to the Levee to ask around about rumors or sightings worth following up on. I know a person or two that may have seen something.”
“Beau talked to the police, and they won’t take a report for twenty-four hours, but Beau is at the station now anyway. He should be coming by the house soon to give us an update,” Waylon said.
“That’s all well and good, but I’m not waiting for the police.” Dub ran to his truck, and Travis bolted out of the house, jumped in his car, and raced over to Bootsie’s Barbershop to rally as many men as he could.
From her bedroom, Fran stood silent, listening to the men. After arriving back at the house with his father, Jason remained in the car, stone faced at the activity taking place in his line of sight through the living room window.
Fran came out and sat on the porch steps. Claire followed with her head hanging down, then she stood on the porch with her eyes darting up and down the street. Jason slowly opened the car door, climbed out, and slammed it shut. He and Fran made eye contact, but neither said anything to the other, nor did they make any gesture of acknowledgment. Jason made his way around to the back of the house and opened the wooden door to the crawl space, where the cold darkness rushed across his skin. He grabbed the flashlight inside the doorway to light his way.
Waylon gave Loretta a hug, lifted her face to his, and looked straight into her eyes. “Loretta, I promise you with every fiber I have, I’ll find Rosie.”
She nodded. Waylon left the house, passing Fran on the steps, and gave her a quick glance as he squeezed past her.
“Fran, where’s your brother? I thought he was still in the car.”
She shrugged.
Waylon drove to the administrative office.
Bill Davis pulled on his blue-and-white-striped seersucker jacket, cleared off his desk, and turned out the lights to go home for lunch. Just as he opened the office door, Waylon approached and blocked the way, his broad stature keeping Bill from passing the threshold. Bill stepped back and his eyes locked on Waylon’s pumping chest and contorted face.
“What’s wrong, Waylon, you don’t look good. If you’re here to threaten me again, I’m not having it and I’ll call the police.”
“My little girl Rosie disappeared while walking home with my son from swimming, Bill. We can’t find her anywhere.”
“What?” said Bill. He pulled Waylon’s arm, leading him into the office, where he turned on the light and pointed at the wooden chair in front of his desk. “Sit down, Waylon, and tell me what I can do!”
“I can’t sit, Bill. I came here to find out who hurt my family. I can handle the anonymous threats. But I never thought anyone would stoop this low and take my little girl.”
Bill stepped back, looking directly at Waylon with his arms spread, shaking his head from side to side. “Waylon, I don’t believe anything of the sort. You told me about the threats. Even my friends in the police department told me. But I can’t imagine anyone would snatch a kid. This town is too small for anyone to dare do that! Tell me what I can do to help!”
“You can tell your friends and neighbors that I won’t rest until my little girl comes back. I’ll turn this town on its head and hunt down the person that took her like a rabid dog. Those hateful people have goons to make her disappear. The same goons protested at the pool with threatening signs for my kids to read. You can’t tell me that one of our fine citizens didn’t seize the opportunity to hurt us while my children walked home alone!”
“Hold on, Waylon. Don’t assume what happened and accuse the wrong person. I can’t imagine the depth of your anger. I got young kids of my own. I’ll get the word out, but only in the spirit of trying to find her, not passing along your threats. I’ll start at the church, because the Saline Lodge meets there later today, and a lot of folks will be there for the fish fry, so I can make a quick announcement. I can also drive the streets and ask a few buddies to drive around my community. Maybe she’s just lost. You can’t go around town all riled up like you did in college.”
Bill put his arm around Waylon’s shoulder while guiding him toward the door. Waylon shrugged his shoulder out of Bill’s grip.
“Bill, I’m still that Negro from college.”
Bill paused to turn out the light and close his door. He walked outside without saying a word and shrugged as Waylon drove away.
As Waylon left the administration office, driving through downtown, cars with some of the barbershop fellows traversed the streets. They waved.
“We’re searching for Rosie,” one man said, yelling out of his car window.
Waylon’s eyes welled up with tears.
Chapter 20
Construct a New Home
July 12, 1965
Day after day he’d used a single shovel to scoop the dirt into buckets, then dump it with the other earth at the far back of the property where no one bothered to venture. Eventually, a thirty by forty-one by fifty-four–inch hole descended into the ground.
