Page 3 of Captured on Film
“No crossing international lines.”
Josheb laughed awkwardly. “Couple of state lines. Half adozen, tops.”
“I want the whole story.”
“Done.”
“I want the map.”
His brother’s shoulders went limp with relief. “You got it.”
“I need a week to prepare.”
“Hey, now! We’ve gotta follow up before the trail getscold.”
Caleb wasn’t going to get caught up in his brother’s recklesspace. “If I’m going, I will go prepared. It takes time to plan and pack. And Ineed to put my affairs in order.”
Okay, that sounded more ominous than he’d intended.
Josheb looked ready to argue, but he shut his mouth andtugged at his beard. “Three days?”
“Five.”
Desperation crackled in his final bid. “Four days.”
It was enough. “Done. But I won’t do the thing.”
The look on Josheb’s face said it all. This wasn’t aboutbrotherly bonding or old times. This was about the right tool for the job. AndCaleb wasn’t a fan of being used.
“What if it’s … absolutely necessary?” asked Josheb.
Caleb knew he might not have a choice. Even so, he grimlyrepeated, “I’m not doing the thing.”
Aspen Hollow
The next morning, Caleb found a tent pitched in hisliving room, its poles firmly lodged in his Turkish rug. But Josheb was gone,as was Nessie. With little else to do, Caleb started the coffee pot and thecomputer and settled in to work.
An hour and a half later, the apartment door opened,bringing in a damp, outdoorsy smell. He looked up in surprise. Sure enough,raindrops showed on the skylight. Even more surprising, Josheb held Nessie onthe doormat until he could wipe her paws.
Like a civilized person.
Caleb nodded his thanks. Nice to know Josheb could begracious in victory.
Turning her loose, his brother shook a bakery bag invitinglybefore retreating into the galley kitchen to help himself to coffee.
Caleb caught the sound of the toaster oven timer grindingdown and logged out of TOS. He’d met his daily goal and shored up his accounts.A couple of weeks away wouldn’t do any harm.
Josheb was leaning against the counter. Waving his bageltoward the bag, he said, “Got some of those blintzes you like, too.”
A rare treat. These days, he never went that far from home.As if six blocks was a major journey.
“Where’s the map?” Caleb asked.
“I’ll grab it.”
They spent breakfast crowded over a big topographical mapthat flopped over the edges of Caleb’s tiny kitchen table. He pored over the lines,concentrating on every detail. His recall was nearly perfect once he studied athing.
“We’ll start from here.” Josheb tapped a dot labeled Aspen Hollow.“It’s remote. The road we’ll be taking at first used to be a lumber trail.”
