"Tessa, I wanted to talk to you about something," Duncan said as he handed
her a glass of wine.
"It sounds serious," she commented.
"It's about Richie."
Tessa cocked her head to one side. "What did he do?"
"Nothing, I'm just a little worried about him."
"Why?"
Duncan thought for a moment. "He has a lot of. . . potential," he said slowly. "He'll be able to accomplish a lot in his life, and I want to start him off on the right foot."
"That's very admirable of you."
"And I've been thinking about something he said today when I dropped him off," he paused. "He's nearly eighteen, which means after his birthday he's on his own. And I don't think he's ready for that."
"Duncan, what are you trying to say?"
"How would you feel if Richie moved in with us?"
"Moved in?" Tessa repeated. "I don't know, Duncan. Having him working here is completely different from him living here."
"I know, but. . .can you just think about it?"
Tessa sighed. "I'll think about it."
. . . . . .
Duncan looked at his watch. "Where is he?"
At five after five Duncan had been curious, Richie had never been late. At a quarter after five he had been confused. At five thirty he was concerned. And now, at a quarter to six he was flat out worried. If he had learned anything about the boy in the past weeks, it was that Richie had a talent for shooting off at the mouth and getting himself into trouble. . . and he didn't have much talent when it came to defending himself. Duncan looked at his watch again, almost six.
. . . . . .
At eight thirty Duncan called Tessa from a pay phone at the mall.
"He's still not there? Has he called? . . . No, nobody's seen him since this morning. . . I've been everywhere except the docks. . . Now why would he go there?" he rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go and look. I will. . . I'll call back later. If he shows up keep him there. I want to talk to him. Bye."
. . . . . . .
Duncan never liked going to the docks; he hated the smell of raw fish. He had spent too much time on fishing boats in the eighteen hundreds and the smell of perspiration and fish had lingered with him for years. . . it still made him nauseous.
"Excuse me," he stopped a man walking along the pier. "I'm looking for a boy who might have been here today. He's a couple inches shorter than me, blue eyes, blonde hair. . . "
"Big mouth?" The man asked. "Bad attitude?"
"Yeah, you seen him?"
"Sure, he was kinda hard to miss, yelling at his dad the way he was."
"His dad?" Duncan repeated. 'Richie doesn't have a dad,' he thought.
"Well, the man kept calling him 'son'."
"Yeah, that's him," Duncan quickly lied. "Are they still here?"
"Last I saw. . . or heard. . ." the man laughed at his own joke. "They were goin' that-a way." He pointed to a row of warehouses.
Duncan thanked the man and walked in the direction he had indicated. 'That boy is going to have some serious explaining to do if that guy's right and this is him,' Duncan thought angrily.
He had almost made it to the end of the pier when a buzz began to resonate at the back of his skull.
"Oh, no," he groaned. "Richie you'd better not be in there." He reached into his coat and drew his katana and slowly entered the warehouse. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," he called.
"Mac!" Richie's panicked voice echoed through the darkened room.
"Richie? Where are you?"
"Um, I kinda, uh. . . I don't know!"
"You don't know?"
"Not really. I kinda can't see anything."
"Keep talking I'll find you." Duncan slowly walked into the room.
"Uh, okay, what's up?"
"Where have you been?" He turned left.
"Here."
"This whole time? Why didn't you call?" He turned left again navigating his way around the steel support beams.
"Sorry, Mac, I didn't have much of a choice."
"That's a nice attitude to have towards someone who's here to rescue you." He stopped and waited for Richie's response.
"Well it sure took ya long enough."
"Didn't want you to think I liked you or anything." He turned back to the right.
"So you waited until you couldn't stand the dust anymore, and then decided to come find me?"
"Something like that." He stopped again, it sounded like he was standing where Richie was, but he couldn't find him. "Say something, I think I'm close."
"Hey, why does it sound like you're under me?"
Duncan stopped looking around himself and closed his eyes. "Oh, no," he said softly slowly lifting his eyes upward. "Hey, Rich, do me a favor and don't move."
"What?"
"Just, don't move."
"What's goin' on, Mac?" Richie demanded.
"Don't move, okay. I'll come get you down." He looked for a way to get up to Richie.
"Down!" Richie immediately began pulling at the ropes that bound him to the support beam. "Mac! What da ya mean, down?" He tentatively felt what he thought was the ground around him with his foot. He yelped when his foot slid off the crossbeam he was standing on. "Mac! Where am I?" Richie called out fear in his voice.
"Richie, just don't move."
A sinister laugh echoed through the warehouse. "Now how to get to him." A raspy voice sneered.
"Mac?" Richie's throat tightened causing him to squeak.
"It sounds serious," she commented.
"It's about Richie."
Tessa cocked her head to one side. "What did he do?"
"Nothing, I'm just a little worried about him."
"Why?"
Duncan thought for a moment. "He has a lot of. . . potential," he said slowly. "He'll be able to accomplish a lot in his life, and I want to start him off on the right foot."
"That's very admirable of you."
"And I've been thinking about something he said today when I dropped him off," he paused. "He's nearly eighteen, which means after his birthday he's on his own. And I don't think he's ready for that."
"Duncan, what are you trying to say?"
"How would you feel if Richie moved in with us?"
"Moved in?" Tessa repeated. "I don't know, Duncan. Having him working here is completely different from him living here."
"I know, but. . .can you just think about it?"
Tessa sighed. "I'll think about it."
. . . . . .
Duncan looked at his watch. "Where is he?"
At five after five Duncan had been curious, Richie had never been late. At a quarter after five he had been confused. At five thirty he was concerned. And now, at a quarter to six he was flat out worried. If he had learned anything about the boy in the past weeks, it was that Richie had a talent for shooting off at the mouth and getting himself into trouble. . . and he didn't have much talent when it came to defending himself. Duncan looked at his watch again, almost six.
. . . . . .
At eight thirty Duncan called Tessa from a pay phone at the mall.
"He's still not there? Has he called? . . . No, nobody's seen him since this morning. . . I've been everywhere except the docks. . . Now why would he go there?" he rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll go and look. I will. . . I'll call back later. If he shows up keep him there. I want to talk to him. Bye."
. . . . . . .
Duncan never liked going to the docks; he hated the smell of raw fish. He had spent too much time on fishing boats in the eighteen hundreds and the smell of perspiration and fish had lingered with him for years. . . it still made him nauseous.
"Excuse me," he stopped a man walking along the pier. "I'm looking for a boy who might have been here today. He's a couple inches shorter than me, blue eyes, blonde hair. . . "
"Big mouth?" The man asked. "Bad attitude?"
"Yeah, you seen him?"
"Sure, he was kinda hard to miss, yelling at his dad the way he was."
"His dad?" Duncan repeated. 'Richie doesn't have a dad,' he thought.
"Well, the man kept calling him 'son'."
"Yeah, that's him," Duncan quickly lied. "Are they still here?"
"Last I saw. . . or heard. . ." the man laughed at his own joke. "They were goin' that-a way." He pointed to a row of warehouses.
Duncan thanked the man and walked in the direction he had indicated. 'That boy is going to have some serious explaining to do if that guy's right and this is him,' Duncan thought angrily.
He had almost made it to the end of the pier when a buzz began to resonate at the back of his skull.
"Oh, no," he groaned. "Richie you'd better not be in there." He reached into his coat and drew his katana and slowly entered the warehouse. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," he called.
"Mac!" Richie's panicked voice echoed through the darkened room.
"Richie? Where are you?"
"Um, I kinda, uh. . . I don't know!"
"You don't know?"
"Not really. I kinda can't see anything."
"Keep talking I'll find you." Duncan slowly walked into the room.
"Uh, okay, what's up?"
"Where have you been?" He turned left.
"Here."
"This whole time? Why didn't you call?" He turned left again navigating his way around the steel support beams.
"Sorry, Mac, I didn't have much of a choice."
"That's a nice attitude to have towards someone who's here to rescue you." He stopped and waited for Richie's response.
"Well it sure took ya long enough."
"Didn't want you to think I liked you or anything." He turned back to the right.
"So you waited until you couldn't stand the dust anymore, and then decided to come find me?"
"Something like that." He stopped again, it sounded like he was standing where Richie was, but he couldn't find him. "Say something, I think I'm close."
"Hey, why does it sound like you're under me?"
Duncan stopped looking around himself and closed his eyes. "Oh, no," he said softly slowly lifting his eyes upward. "Hey, Rich, do me a favor and don't move."
"What?"
"Just, don't move."
"What's goin' on, Mac?" Richie demanded.
"Don't move, okay. I'll come get you down." He looked for a way to get up to Richie.
"Down!" Richie immediately began pulling at the ropes that bound him to the support beam. "Mac! What da ya mean, down?" He tentatively felt what he thought was the ground around him with his foot. He yelped when his foot slid off the crossbeam he was standing on. "Mac! Where am I?" Richie called out fear in his voice.
"Richie, just don't move."
A sinister laugh echoed through the warehouse. "Now how to get to him." A raspy voice sneered.
"Mac?" Richie's throat tightened causing him to squeak.
