Chapter 6

Don sat at the kitchen table with his father. Alan rubbed his hand over his mouth, looked at him. "You have to find him."

"I can't, officially, Dad. He's not a missing person. He arranged his affairs, and left. He's an adult; he can do that."

Alan lifted the note again, re-read it. "I don't care," he whispered. "There has to be some way you can find him."

"Look, Dad, I'm trying. I'm calling in favors all over the place. Charlie's smart. He's been working with various law enforcement agencies, so he's picked up street-smarts along the way. If he doesn't want to be found…"

His father stood abruptly. He dropped the note on the table. "This is your fault," he said to Don, "the things you said that night…" Alan's eyes widened as he heard his own words, and he rushed to Don's side of the table, placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Oh G-d, Donnie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Don reached up and placed his hand over his father's. "It's okay, Dad…you're probably right anyway. If we hadn't had that argument, I doubt that Charlie would have done this."

Alan sat down again, this time in the chair closest to Don. "But you apologized. You told me that you apologized."

"I did, Dad, but Charlie never really answered me, he was on the way to a meeting; on the way to arrange his leave of absence, as it turns out." He turned frightened eyes to his father. "What if I went too far this time?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

By the time Charlie had made it to State Route 99, it was already afternoon. He turned down the first few rides he was offered. He liked to walk. He wished he had his bicycle, but it was one too many things to worry about right now.

He had a few dollars in his pocket — most of it was stashed in various hiding places in his pack and sleeping bag — so he stopped at a roadside store for water, a bag of chips. He sat outside to eat them, finished the water and decided to go back in and buy another bottle for the road.

"Where you headed?" asked the clerk, as she rang up the second bottle. "That's a lot of pack."

Charlie shrugged. "Not sure," he admitted. "I'm not really on a schedule."

She checked the clock. "Look, I'm off in half an hour. Going to Bakersfield tonight to pick up my son from his father's. I can take you that far."

Charlie smiled. "I'd appreciate that. Haven't done this much walking in a while."

"Take a load off out back by my car," she said. "The door to the restroom is out that way, too, if you need to get rid of that other bottle of water."

Charlie blushed, thanked her again and left the store. He stood by her car for a while, then decided to sit down and change his shoes. No sense in getting blisters. Then, more to kill time than because he had to, he went into the restroom and used the privacy to add a few more bills to the stash in his pocket. He would give her some money for gas. As he hefted the pack again, he was struck by his face in the scratched, cloudy mirror.

He looked happy.

A few hours later, Debbie dropped off her passenger, his pack and his boots at a small, roadside motel near Bakersfield. She gratefully accepted the $20 he offered for gas, wished him a "great vacation" before she spun out of the parking lot.

There was a telephone booth in front of the motel — unused in years, it looked like. Charlie thought about using his prepaid phone to call his Dad, but he didn't want to give Don anything to work with. He would have to figure some way out to contact his Dad later. At least he had left the note, so he should know that he was safe. That would have to do.

He entered the office and the wizened night manager looked at him.

"Don't got no phones, no TVs, no fancy bathtubs in our rooms," he said in greeting.

"Uh…that's okay…" Charlie began, but the old man had taken in his dusty boots and backpack, knew he had a hitchhiker on his hands.

"Need to see some cash," he ordered. "$25, one night."

Charlie reached into his pocket, put the last two twenties he had there on the counter. "Room have a bed?" he asked, tentatively.

The money disappeared, a key arrived in its place. "Double." A guest register was shoved at him. "Let me keep this here change, don't even have to use your real name."

Charlie smiled, picked up the key. When he got a little farther away from L.A., he'd stop throwing his money around this way.