Chapter 13

Jesse pulled into the parking lot of the regional high school where Clear Valley sent its students feeling frustrated. His first attempt to get school yearbooks to bring to Mark in the hopes of getting him to identify the boy from the cabin had not met with success. Mark had been unspecific about the exact age of the boy, and Jesse knew that adolescent boys varied widely in their appearance as they approached their teens. Mark had said the boy was 'no older than 15 or 16'; such a description could easily fit a boy as young as 12 or 13. So Jesse had started with the local middle school, hoping to get the yearbooks that would show the 7th and 8th graders for the last couple of years. However, the principal at the school had been extremely uncooperative, declaring that there was no way any of the children in her school would be involved in drugs, that Clear Valley had no drug problem; therefore, none of her children could be involved in such a thing and she wouldn't have a bunch of outsiders from the city pestering them and insinuating otherwise. Jesse had tried to smooth her ruffled feathers, but unfortunately, Clear Valley was a small town, so the tale of the shooting was already rife in the community, and obviously this woman was not about to be sympathetic to a 'big city hotshot doctor who thought he could bring his drugs and problems here'.

So now Jesse was trying the regional high school, and he desperately hoped that he wouldn't meet the same stubborn resistance here. As he walked toward the door of the building, he was surprised to hear his name called.

"Dr. Travis?"

Turning, Jesse saw a young woman in her early to mid twenties approaching. He stopped and looked at her questioningly, as she caught up to him.

"Hi. I'm Lisa Milton," the young woman said. "I'm a student nurse at Clear Valley Community Hospital; I've seen you around at the hospital. I just wanted to say how glad I am that your friend's doing better."

"Thanks," Jesse said, smiling at her, grateful for the sight of a friendly face after the hostility he'd confronted at the middle school.

"We've all felt so badly for you and your friend," Lisa continued sympathetically. "I can't imagine how awful it must be to have your own father shoot you."

Jesse's feelings of friendliness abruptly evaporated. "How about thinking about how awful it is for Mark to have shot his son," he snapped. He saw Lisa look taken aback and a bit hurt, and realized that she had only been trying to be nice; after all, she only knew what the gossip mill was passing around. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, more calmly. "It's just that I'm getting pretty tired of people assuming that Mark's some kind of monster who deliberately tried to hurt his son, when the truth is that there's nothing in this world more important to him than Steve and this whole thing is tearing him apart."

"I'm sorry," Lisa said apologetically. "It's just… they said he admitted he was on drugs…"

"Mark does not take drugs," Jesse declared firmly. "He was given those drugs by a boy who broke into the cabin and slipped them into his drink when Mark tried to help him."

"What boy?" asked Lisa in confusion.

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Jesse replied. "Mark said the kid said his name was Skylar, but apparently there's no teenager around here with that name. That's why I came out to the high school. I'm trying to get hold of some recent yearbooks to see if Mark can recognize any of the pictures." He paused ruefully. "I just hope I have better luck here than I did back at the middle school."

"What happened at the middle school?"

"The principal basically threw me out," Jesse said. "She's one of the ones who's made up her mind that Mark is some kind of junkie monster and refused to consider that any of the kids in her school could possibly have anything to do with drugs."

Lisa grinned unexpectedly. "That sounds like Mrs. Martin. She's been principal at the middle school ever since I was a little kid, and she never did have a clue what was really going on. We don't really have much a drug problem here in Clear Valley, but it's ridiculous to say that none of the kids have ever tried any or have no access to them." She gazed thoughtfully at Jesse, obviously weighing up her impressions of him and considering the possibilities.

"You really think some kid slipped your friend some drugs without him knowing about it?" she asked.

"I'm sure of it," avowed Jesse positively. "I've known Mark and Steve for a long time, and there's just no way on earth that Mark could ever hurt Steve. Hell, you can ask Steve; he's more sure of it than anyone."

"They said he had traumatic amnesia," Lisa replied in surprise.

"He does. But he knows better than anybody how Mark feels about him and that the only way this could have happened is if somebody drugged him. In fact, one of the reasons I'm out here now is that if I wasn't, Steve would be."

"He's not going to be in any shape to go anywhere for a while," observed Lisa.

"Yeah, well, you don't know Steve," Jesse retorted. "He's not very good at sitting around and listening to doctor's orders when his dad's in trouble. And he knows what this has to be doing to Mark, and he really hates the thought of him being in prison. The only way I was able to keep him from dragging himself out of that bed as soon as he found out that Mark had been arrested was by promising to come out and do everything possible to find this kid."

"I tell you what," said Lisa, making up her mind. "Why don't you come over to our house with my brother and me; I was just coming here to pick him up. Scott's a junior, and he's got the high school yearbooks from the last two years; and we can get the most recent middle school yearbooks from one of our neighbors. And maybe Scott can help you figure out who this kid might be. He knows a lot of the Clear Valley kids at school; maybe he'll be able to at least narrow down the possibilities."

"That would be great," Jesse assented fervently. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Lisa replied with a smile. "In fact, why don't you plan on staying for dinner; you have to be getting sick of the hospital food, and that way we'll have plenty of time to go over the yearbooks and talk with Scott."

"Are you sure that'd be okay?" Jesse asked in pleased surprise. "I don't want to put you out or anything…"

"Well, it's my Mom who'll be cooking," replied Lisa with a mischievous smile. "I've been living with them while I finish my nursing degree. But she always makes enough to feed about three extra people anyway, so that shouldn't be a problem."

Jesse grinned back, appreciating the feeling of having a friend and ally in this hitherto suspicious or downright hostile town – especially such a young and lovely ally. However, it occurred to him that he had one more task he needed to accomplish while it was still light.

"Look, I'd really love to have dinner at your place, but I need to go up to the cabin to look around again before it gets dark. What time do you eat?"

"We usually eat around 5:30," Lisa replied. "Why don't you go up to the cabin now, and you can come over to our house when you're done."

"That sounds great," Jesse said gratefully. Lisa gave him directions on how to get to her parents' house, and Jesse headed back to his car, feeling much more optimistic than he had when he arrived. Finding out who might be involved with drugs or who had a brother who had recently died of an overdose should be a lot easier now that he had a local kid to talk to. He headed up to the cabin with renewed determination.

When he got to the Harley cabin, Jesse took out a camera he had picked up in town. He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, but he knew that Steve was feeling frustrated that he couldn't come out here and look around for himself. So, he figured the next best thing would be to take pictures of everything and bring them to Steve. Maybe something would spark a memory or indicate a lead.

He worked his way carefully through the cabin, taking the time to notice more details than he had the day he had come to pick up some clean clothes for Mark. He carefully snapped shots of the interior of each of the rooms, including close-ups of the open drawers he found, presumably places that Skylar had ransacked. He examined the desk drawer where Mark had said Skylar had found the gun, and noticed that there were scratches and some slight splintering around the lock area. Obviously, the teen had forced the drawer open, looking for valuables or a weapon. One more reason not to keep a weapon lying around the house, Jesse thought grimly. He tried to keep himself from dwelling wistfully on the thought that if Walter hadn't kept the gun and ammunition there, this whole disaster would never have happened. He carefully snapped a close-up of the drawer.

Moving into the kitchen, he noticed that there was a soup bowl in the drainboard next to the sink. Of course, he thought, why didn't I notice that before? That's why there was only one bowl outside – Mark must have brought his in when he came back to get the lemonade. He carefully took a picture of that as well.

Once he had finished with the inside, Jesse took the camera out back and checked out the patio area. He took a few shots of the soup bowl overturned on the ground, its contents obviously long since licked clean by animals. For good measure, he took a few shots of the surrounding area as well, discovering a partially gnawed paper plate stuck in a nearby bush. As a final thought, he went up the path to the clearing above the lake where Steve had been found, and finished up the roll of film there. He snapped pictures of the area where the traces of blood on the ground still indicated where Steve had been shot. Moving to the spot marked by the disturbance in the brush that he figured was where Mark had fallen, he took the last few shots of that as well. His film used up, he glanced at his watch and decided that he'd better head back to town if he wanted to be on time for dinner at the Miltons'.

Jesse presented himself at the Miltons' shortly before 5:30, bearing a couple of gallons of ice cream he had picked up at a local ice cream parlor in town on his way. He was greeted warmly by Lisa and introduced to her parents and brother, all of whom seemed as genuine and friendly as Lisa herself. Conversation was general over dinner, consisting of the usual small talk and exchanges of information common to people just getting to know each other. But once the dishes had been cleared, and Jesse had, with complete sincerity, complimented Mrs. Milton on the delicious dinner, he, Lisa, and Scott repaired to the living room to talk about possibilities of who could have been the teen who broke into the Harley cabin.

As Scott went to get the yearbooks, including a couple of middle school ones they had already borrowed from one of their neighbors, Lisa asked Jesse to tell her the whole story of what had presumably occurred between Mark and Steve. Jesse was not surprised when she was taken aback by, and somewhat skeptical of, Mark's claim to have ignored the gun Skylar was holding and to have talked the teen into giving him the weapon. So Jesse found himself telling Lisa about Mark and his investigative experiences and his relationship with Steve, as well as Jesse's own experiences and relationship with them both. By the time he was done, both Lisa and Scott were expressing a strong desire to meet both Sloans. Jesse pulled himself out of the unexpectedly pleasant reminiscing mode, and promised to introduce them as soon as this mess was straightened out.

"So, Scott, what can you tell me about anybody who might be the kid Mark met at the cabin?" Jesse asked the teenager.

"Well, I don't really know the kids that are doing the drug scene that well," Scott said. "There are a couple of seniors that like to think they're pretty bad stuff, but I'm not so sure they're really as into it as they'd like you to think."

"Well, it's a start," Jesse suggested, reflecting that the boy he was looking for was unlikely to be a senior; it was true that adolescents varied enormously in appearance and development, but Mark was very observant and pretty good at estimating ages. Although, given the state he'd been in since the shooting, it was possible that his usual acumen was somewhat clouded.

"Well, there's Tommy Caymen; he's been strutting around lately and throwing off hints about getting in with something really big." Scott's tone spoke clearly of his skepticism about the likelihood of Tommy being involved in anything 'big'. "He doesn't have any brothers, though; he's an only child. Then there's John Morton; he's been known to do a few drugs. And Nick Dempsey…" Scott listed a few other names, but was unaware of any of them having an older brother who had recently died.

"You might talk to one of the guidance counselors at the school," suggested Lisa. "They might be able to tell you if one of the kids had a brother who died recently."

"That's a good idea," replied Jesse. "If I can get them to talk to me. I didn't have much luck at the middle school."

"Oh that's just Mrs. Martin," said Scott dismissively, with a teenager's scorn for the self-delusions of adult bureaucracy. "She's totally clueless, everyone knows that. The counselors at the high school are a bit more with it."

"Actually, one of the guidance counselors at the high school, Rachel Cameron, is a friend of mine," said Lisa. "I can give her a call and explain the circumstances, and I'm sure she'll talk to you."

"Thanks a lot," Jesse said. "You guys are really being a big help. I really appreciate it."

"No sweat," replied Scott. "In fact, I can mark the yearbook pages with some of the more likely possibilities on them, so your friend can concentrate on them first."

"That'd be great," Jesse responded.

As Scott turned over the corners of some of the pages, including several of some of the younger students, Jesse continued to converse with Lisa.

"So where are you staying?" Lisa asked him.

"I hadn't really thought about it," Jesse said, realizing for the first time that circumstances had changed. "Up 'til now, I've just been staying with Steve; I promised Mark I wouldn't leave him while his condition was so uncertain, but I guess he really doesn't need me there any more." He grinned slightly, anticipating Steve's reaction if he were to find Jesse still camped out in the chair beside his bed all night. He had to admit that the thought of sleeping in a real bed again sounded incredibly good. "I guess I'll get a hotel room for the duration. Got any suggestions?"

"Well, there's a motel just outside of town on the way to the hospital," Lisa said doubtfully. "Or you could just stay here for tonight."

Jesse considered that very tempting offer, but decided, reluctantly, to decline. He still wanted to go back to the hospital tonight to check on Steve, and he wanted to be up and out very early in the morning. He wanted to talk to the guidance counselor at the school first thing and still have time to get out to see Mark and get back to the hospital to report to Steve before his friend got too nervous about what was going on and tried leaving on his own. So he thanked Lisa and her family with sincere gratitude for their kindness and assistance, and left.

On his way to the hospital, he checked in at the motel and secured a room. Tossing his suitcase onto the bed, he turned around and headed back out to continue on to the hospital. He was extremely pleased to find that Steve had been moved out of the ICU into a regular room. He went down to the room and found that Steve was asleep. He did a quick check of his friend's bedside chart, then stopped off at the nurse's station to get an update on his status. Reassured to find that Steve's condition was continuing to show satisfactory improvement, he returned to the motel feeling that he had done a reasonable job of fulfilling his promises to both his friends. With Steve on the mend, and a few leads to the identity of the teen who had been at the cabin, things were starting to look a bit more hopeful. Tomorrow he could reassure Mark about Steve's progress and his undiminished faith and love for his father and could bring Steve some concrete evidence of progress in the effort to get Mark released. Jesse climbed wearily into bed, and was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.