Page 7 of Montana's Bravest

I run and hug him. “Dad?”

My old man stays silent.

“Mr. Kelleher!” One of the policemen appears to try to wake Dad up from whatever nightmare he’s seeing behind his blank eyes. “Do you have the photo of your son?”

When Dad still hasn’t answered, the other officer pulls me aside while paramedics escort him to a corner, away from the crowd. They keep saying that he’s in shock.

What about me?

I’m in shock too! But I guess a big brother can’t be in shock.

“Your dad mentioned your brother’s name is Jack. What’s your name, son?” the police officer asks.

“Sam. Where’s my brother? What happens to my dad?”

“Look, your mother is on her way.”

“Where’s Jack?”

“We’ll find him, okay?”

“Is he hurt? Is he…” I stare at the officer, mundanely following the outline of his thick mustache. “He’s been kidnapped?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“He’s been kidnapped!” I yell. This is what school has warned us about—stranger danger and all that. I can’t believe it’s happening to Jack.

I escape from the officer’s grip, running the width and length of the fair, shouting Jack’s name. This is what my dad should’ve done instead of just standing there like a petrified tree.

“Jack!” I cry out, entering the House of Mirrors.

Reflections and shadows surround me. A lot of them look like Jack, but I know my brother too well. I know the difference. He’s not here.

The Haunted Mansion would be the last place that Jack goes to, but I go in anyway, as he might be lost and stumbling in there.

“Jack,” I keep calling. “Come on, it’s me.”

Coming out empty-handed, I collapse. The guilt and regret are too heavy to bear. My desperation quickly turns into uncontrollable tears. My little brother is alone with a stranger somewhere, and he must be scared—I can feel it.

“Jack… where are you?” I cry into my hands. Perhaps the two inches that Dad fretted about wouldn’t have mattered. Jack would’ve been safer with me on that roller coaster.

Moments later, another police officer finds me. He has come with my mother, who immediately gives me a tight hug.

“We’ll find him, Sam,” she whispers, holding back tears.

“Let’s go, then!” I tug my mom’s arm. “Let’s find him.”

I don’t care about Sienna. If there’s a prayer that I want God to answer, it’s that Jack is safely home again with us.

“Let the police handle this,” she says.

“No. We have to find him, now!”

“Let’s go home, Sam,” Mom sobs as she kneels in front of me.

Go home? Is that all we can do?

“They’ll find Jack.” She holds my hand as if she was going to lose me too.

---