Page 17 of The Pact

Tomasetti shakes his head. “Where did you last see them?”

“Just north of the icebox,” Willie says.

“Which direction were they heading?” I ask.

“North.” His brows knit. “But they must have left the trail. That’s how we lost them.”

When he raises his eyes to mine, I see remorse. “We were just goofing off. We didn’t know the weather was going to turn. We sure didn’t mean for them to get lost.”

Scowling, his mother sets her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be sure and say a prayer for those boys tonight, Chief Burkholder. I hope you find them.”

“Me, too,” I say as we head for the door.

Aaron spent a lot of time outside during the winter months—mucking stalls or helping his datt—but he couldn’t remember ever being so cold. He couldn’t stop shivering. His toes were numb. His hands ached. Kevin didn’t complain, but as they searched for wood, Aaron could see that his friend was shivering, too. How was it that after so much planning and anticipation, their exciting adventure had turned into such a nightmare?

In a second-story bedroom, Aaron spotted some old boards, and with Kevin’s help he carried them downstairs. “Why is the flashlight so dim?” Kevin asked as they descended the stairs.

“Batteries are about to go,” Aaron told him.

Kevin’s eyes went wide. “What are we going to do without light?”

“Once we get a fire going, we’ll have plenty of light.”

The boys stacked the wood in the fireplace. Aaron used a match to light the cardboard he’d put at the base. He checked the flue and within minutes they had a decent fire—and finally some heat. They sat cross-legged near the hearth, hands outstretched, fingers warming.

“You think our folks are worried?” Kevin asked.

“Probably.”

“You think they’re out hunting for us?”

Aaron banked the quick swipe of guilt. “Maybe.”

“Man, my dad is going to kill me,” Kevin whispered. “What are we going to do?”

Aaron stared into the flames, noticing for the first time that the smoke wasn’t going up the chimney the way it should. Already his eyes were burning. As if spending the night without a blanket wasn’t bad enough. Now they were going to have to spend it with burning eyes and throats.

“We head home in the morning,” he said. “We tell them we got lost.”

“Wouldn’t be too far from the truth,” Kevin said.

“See? We don’t even have to lie.”

Aaron looked over at his friend, pretended not to notice the tears on his cheeks. “At least we freed that buck. Whatever happens, no matter how much trouble we get into, they can’t take that away from us.”

Wiping tears with his coat sleeve, Kevin set his chin on his knees and stared into the fire. “All this because you’re Amish and I’m English.”

Aaron slid up his coat sleeve, revealing the dried blood and scab on his wrist. “Can’t take this away, either.”

The fire crackled and popped. Outside, the wind ripped around the house. Shivering, Aaron raised his hands to warm them, trying not to notice when another puff of smoke escaped the lintel and wafted toward the ceiling.

Instead of going back to where we’d left Glock, Tomasetti and I take the county road north to the next bridge that spans Painters Creek. If the boys were moving fast and had a head start, it’s feasible that they covered more ground than we anticipated.

I look at Tomasetti as I shut down the engine. “Do you think they’re lost?”

“It probably didn’t start out that way. But if they left the trail?” He shrugs. “They probably are now.”

I watch a mix of snow and sleet pelt the windshield and can’t help but wonder if the boys are out in the elements, cold and frightened and alone. “I bet they’re wishing they were home, snug in their beds about now,” I say.