Wherever We Are: Chapter 4

They left as a group, walking up a hillside street to a small house surrounded by a smaller flower filled yard. Sara saw Greg raise his eyebrows in surprise. They would keep the humble beginnings of their sheriff to themselves, she thought.

The mother of the missing child waited for them on her small porch puzzled about the unexpected guests arriving with her daughter. When introduced as friends of her son, the woman's lined face became similar to her daughter's. Her bright eyes did not dim as she related details of a day that changed her life forever.

"Evan was such a fun child," she said. "Long after I thought I had my family, he popped up—back then, women didn't show off being pregnant and especially when one was my age!" She had a small beauty shop and Evan was with her every day. Her husband delivered lumber and building supplies and was gone most of the day. The older woman related several stories about her husband's work until her daughter brought her back to Evan.

"The day he got lost—I never really believed he could be lost—he had been around these hills since he was old enough to walk alone—was like today, sky clear, not too hot, and it was a Monday. My shop was closed on Mondays and we had gone to clean up, get ready for the week." She was silent for several minutes. "After lunch, he wanted to run errands. People knew Evan—they would give him a dime or a quarter and he would go get lunch for them or take mail to the post office—get him to do things like that.

"The town was safe, Dr. Grissom. It was different back then. No one hurt children."

Sara, Grissom, and Greg knew the truth.

The old woman continued her story, living again the day her son disappeared. "By the time night fall came, we knew something had happened—most likely he was hurt, we thought. My husband and a group of men combed the town looking for him, but by midnight, most of them went home. The next morning, everyone knew he was gone—some thought he had run away, others thought he was hiding out in some kind of game, a few thought he had been kidnapped." She made a deep sigh. "I knew something had happened to Evan. He was a good kid, thoughtful, kind, did not do things that were hurtful—never.

"We called the sheriff—back then there were no child alerts—and he came with several men. They joined up with the townspeople and went to the mines. I knew what they were doing; the thought of my boy being down a shaft nearly drove me crazy, but, after a while, I got over that part of missing Evan."

She looked at Grissom, leaning toward him, as she said, "Something has happened—someone has found something. That's why you came all this way." She took Grissom's hand. "You are one of those people who look at evidence like I see on the television." She glanced at her daughter. "Tell me."

Grissom covered her hand. "Mrs. Atwater, a shirt was found—Susan thinks it belonged to Evan."

Sara could feel the breathing stop as the old lady's hand went to her chest.

"I knew something would be found one day—where?"

Susan said, "We found it in a box at the community center."

Momentary confusion showed on her mother's face. "The community center? It was a church back then—oh, the rummage sale!" There was almost a smile on her face. "Someone has forgotten—and who would think his sister would be the one to find it?"

Grissom interrupted with a question, asking, "Can you remember if the shirt was clean. Susan told us it was his favorite shirt—do you remember?"

She thought for a minute. "It was a Monday—he didn't wear it on Sunday. I washed on Saturday back then, so, yes, it would have been clean." She smiled. "As clean as a ten year old boy keeps his shirt."

Grissom asked if she would look at the other things found with the shirt and she agreed to meet them the next morning. The four left the two women sitting on the porch in the growing darkness. Greg, Sara, and Grissom left the deputy in his office, stopped at the local café and ordered carry out meals. Even Sara was showing signs of exhaustion as they pulled into the roadside motel.

It was a relic from the sixties; one long porch covered building with one door and one window per room. The parking lot was nearly full as they checked in. The clerk explained the cars as he showed them to two identical rooms—Pony Express fans had filled twelve of the fourteen rooms. An outdoor picnic area served as their dining table and the three ate and discussed what little evidence there was to find on a child's shirt.

"The shirt isn't dirty," Grissom said. "I combed everything from it and all I got were fibers—consistent with carpet. Nothing to indicate the shirt had been in a mine. So I don't think Evan got lost—there would have been some kind of plant trace. Someone took the shirt off the kid."

Greg had eaten his sandwich, his fries, and was edging toward Sra's chips. She slapped his hand away. He said, "What do you think happened?" Then in a conspiratorial voice asked, "Did Sheriff Atwater's dad do the kid in? Or did his sweet mother?"

Sara kicked him underneath the table. Grissom ignored what was going on.

"I doubt the mother did anything. We don't know much about the father, do we?" Grissom ate; Sara and Greg watched, knowing he was thinking. "Tomorrow maybe we can get more from the mother. I would like to know if Evan was running errands for anyone." He gathered his trash along with theirs and deposited it in a nearby can. "Right now, I'm going to sleep. Sara, you get a room to yourself and Greg and I get to share." He smiled—a grimace would be a better description. "Be quiet when you come in."

Hours later, Sara woke in the quiet, dark room. She never slept for long—three or four hours was usual—then she read, listened to music, or watched television for a couple of hours before falling back to sleep for a few more hours. This sudden change to night sleeping had thrown her off her normal pattern, but even exhaustion did not make her sleep soundly for more than four hours. She turned on the lamp and reached for her book. Almost immediately, she heard a light tapping on her door.

Grissom stood on the other side of her door. She opened it.

"Grissom."

A/N: Thanks for reading--this one will be finished in 3 days. And yes, based on a director's comment about Gum Drops. Leave a review, next chapter up in a few hours.