Page 6 of Be Courageous

If only Dad were here.

Longing swept through Grayson. He used to sit in the front seat of his father’s state police cruiser, listening to the chatter on the radio. That joy would never happen again. Loss bored into him, only slightly less painful than it had been a year ago.

The purr of a car motor pulled Grayson from his abstraction. He turned around, wishing his father’s silver-and-blue Ford Interceptor with its distinctive grill would materialize from the mist and rescue him. Instead, a ratty purplish Buick rolled toward him. With a spurt of alarm, Grayson recognized it.

As with the last time, the window lowered, and the man’s elbow came out. Grayson took a precautionary step backward, but the shaggy-haired man didn’t have tattoos on his face. He had a thick brow ridge, days-old bristles, and a scar hatching one corner of his upper lip. Otherwise, he looked normal.

“Hi again. Looks like you missed the bus.”

His voice was friendly, his deep-set eyes direct. How could he have known Grayson missed the bus?

“No, that wasn’t mine,” Grayson lied. “There’s another bus coming.”

The man’s hairy eyebrows quirked. “You don’t have to lie to me. I knew your father, remember?”

“Yeah.” That’s what he’d said the night of Grayson’s birthday.

“My name’s Brian. Hop in. I’ll give you a ride to school.” The locks gave a click.

Grayson remembered his fear on their previous encounter, but it had been dark that night, and he’d thought the man had tattoos on his face. This morning, he seemed harmless enough, and the fact that he’d known his dad meant he had to be a good guy. Besides, this way, he wouldn’t have to ruin his mother’s morning. “All right.”

Hearing no cars coming, Grayson approached the door behind the driver’s seat and slipped in. The car smelled of cigarettes. He’d scarcely closed his door when it started forward.

“I’m at John F. Kennedy Middle School,” he volunteered. “Do you know where that is?”

“Sure, sure. Don’t worry. I’ll get you where you need to go.”

As he fastened his seat belt, Grayson noted the tattoos on Brian’s knuckles with a stab of concern. He didn’t know any state policemen with letters tattooed onto their hands. What’s more, there was trash under his feet and an old rag on the seat next to him.

“How do you know my dad?” Maybe this man used to work with him, though all the state troopers Grayson knew kept their cars clean.

The driver angled his rearview mirror so he could look back at him. “We did a job together once. Nice guy, your dad.”

The compliment didn’t match the hard edge to the man’s voice. Then again, his father had worked with a tough group of men, not always known for using the right intonation with their words.

They came to an intersection. Without coming to a full stop, Brian rolled past the stop sign and turned right instead of going straight.

Grayson’s alarm ticked upward. “Oh, this isn’t the way to my school.”

“No worries. I know a shortcut.”

The words failed to reassure Grayson. It occurred to him that he’d better call Cameron to explain that he’d missed the bus. Unzipping the small pocket on the front of his backpack, he withdrew his cell phone and noticed Cameron had already calledhim,only his phone hadn’t rung because it was still on DO NOT DISTURB.

“You got a cell phone?”

The sharp question had Grayson stuffing his phone under his leg. “No.”

“What’s in the bag?” A thick arm came over the back seat, snatched the backpack out of his hands, and slammed it down on the front seat, where Brian proceeded to paw through it.

This isn’t normal.Grayson thought fast. “I was going to eat some of my lunch.”

Brian’s search turned up his bagged lunch and a notebook with his homework in it. He shoved the bag away from him, clearly relieved not to find a cell phone.

Stunned, Grayson kept quiet. This man wasn’t planning to take him to school.

Brian braked abruptly, turning them off the road onto a dirt track Grayson had never noticed before. As they bounced through ruts and brushed past branches pressing in on them, his heart started to pound. This situation had all the earmarks of an abduction, and his father had told him if he got snatched to try to get away in the first few minutes.

Grayson peered around. This road was probably only used by hunters. But thanks to playing paintball wars with Cameron, Grayson was good at hiding in the woods, even with the mist lifting. He just had to get out of the car.

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