Page 142 of The Reformatory

“Come on back out of there!” he called to the dog boys, banging on the shed wall. He didn’t need a crowd trampling on his business if Stephens hadn’t been inside. He’d barely gotten his order out before Colonel tugged on him again, taking him to the grass beyond the shed, following the trail. The watching crowd of boys in the distance had grown, on both the Negro and the white sides of the campus, separated by the large field between them. Let them watch and see what’ll happen to them, Boone thought. I oughta bring Stephens’s head back on a stick.

Colonel picked up speed as he reached the rutted path in the grass from the truck’s tires. His heart celebrated. “Look!” Haddock said, pointing. He yanked on Colonel’s leash with two hands and had to dig in to prevent the dog from charging ahead.

Before him lay a perfect front half of a boot print; the other half was lost in the grass. The size of the large boot matched the print beneath his window. His progress delayed, Colonel sniffed at the boot print and wagged his tail.

Haddock scanned the ruts to see if any other footprints had been captured, but all that remained was a disturbance in the soil that looked like Stephens might have tried to cover his tracks. Smart goddamned boy, but not smart enough. Colonel still had him.

“Make sure the rest of ’em get that scent,” Haddock said to Jasper. “All they’re smelling is each other’s assholes.”

“Yessir,” Jasper said, red-faced. He had pride in his dogs. Tracking was harder in the warm months, especially if it was dry, but that was no excuse. Only Colonel was on the trail. The other handlers crowded around the footprint with their dogs, giving irritated commands.

“All right, Robert Stephens,” Haddock said, half to himself. “Where you headed now?”

Colonel knew. As soon as the pressure on his leash eased, Colonel’s nose led him to the grass parallel to the rutted soil, as if Stephens had stepped aside a few feet to hide his tracks.

Colonel quickened his pace until Haddock had to jog to keep up with him, but he was glad they were running when he saw the Funhouse in their direct path. Another clever place to hide!

Behind him, the dog boys echoed Haddock’s excitement with whoops and hollering. “He’s in the right place all right!” Boone called from his truck, keeping pace beside them.

“Here, doggie doggie doggie!” Haddock cupped his mouth. “We got you, Stephens!”

Taunting the boys in their hiding places was half the fun of the hunt, pricking their terror to flush them out. He hoped Stephens would get scared and bolt from the Funhouse so the dog boys and their trackers could get the chase they wanted. Colonel didn’t have a taste for blood, but those German shepherds would eat that little bastard for dinner when they caught him, especially Scout. Stephens couldn’t tell anyone about the photographs with his face eaten off.

And if half the boys at the Reformatory saw it happen, all the better. No one else would run in a long while, would they?

The growing grin on Haddock’s face faded when Colonel avoided the Funhouse entrance and followed the scent toward the rear. He nosed around the chairs assembled for the Negro boys, knocking one aside in his fervor, but then Colonel paced the rear wall, back and forth.

Haddock glanced nervously at the adjoining hundred-acre cornfield, glad a tall fence topped with barbed wire separated the field from the campus. He’d had to fight to pay for that fencing a few years back, but the peace of mind was worth every penny. He scanned the barbed wire for signs of torn clothing just the same, but no child in his right mind would try to climb that fence. Again Jasper and the other dog boys were clambering inside the Funhouse in search of Stephens even though Colonel had already told Haddock they would not find him there. But where, then…?

Haddock wished he had a cigarette or even a swig of water. The panic that had smothered him when he first discovered his photographs were missing was cooling from his cheeks and fingertips. He prayed Colonel was about to round the Funhouse and go to the front entrance after all, but instead the dog’s nose sniffed at the grass on the way to the cornfield fence.

“No way!” Boone called out from the truck, idling just off to the side. “Maybe he lost it.”

“Colonel doesn’t lose a trail,” Haddock muttered, but he hoped Boone was right as the dog sped up again, pulling Haddock toward an iron fence post. Colonel plunged his head into the weeds around the fence post, snuffling like a hog. As Colonel burrowed, a large panel of the fence hooked to the post shivered more than it should.

“No,” Haddock whispered.

“Damn, boss—lookit!” Boone said.

Colonel was pushing himself through the fencing as the panel trembled until a flap fell away from the post, flattened. Colonel’s front paws were already on the other side, his thick haunches sliding across the grass as he slipped through what had become a gaping hole more than large enough for a bloodhound—and a twelve-year-old child.

“He got through the fence!” Boone called to Jasper and the dog boys. “Git out here!” The cacophony of barking sent Haddock’s head spinning, his thoughts hard to catch. If Stephens had crawled under this fence close to twenty minutes before, or longer, he might have made it to the road already. How had this happened? How had he been bested by a child?

Colonel was already on the other side of the fence, pacing as far as his leash would allow through the hole. He looked back at Haddock as if to say, I thought you wanted to catch him.

“I’m going under with Colonel!” Haddock said. “Boone, load up the dog boys on the truck and drive around the fence. I want the dogs covering the field and the truck covering the road. Let’s make up for lost time and catch him before dark.”

“Boss, you want me to call on the Hewitts and—”

“No,” Haddock cut him off. The last thing he needed was for those photographs to land in the hands of Lance Hewitt, who was with the state highway patrol and beyond Bird’s jurisdiction. Some of the Reformatory’s neighbors might already be patrolling because of the bell and the standing fifty-dollar reward, but he wouldn’t tempt fate. “We’ll get him ourselves.”

“You sure, Boss?” Boone said. He didn’t question instructions often, but of course he was worried that Stephens was already to the road and beyond, if he’d been running fast.

“Yes. I’m counting on you, Boone.” Ideally, Colonel could lead Haddock straight to Stephens without a pack on his heels to see the photos. But if Stephens had too much of a head start, Boone would see him on the road or another dog would catch him hiding in the corn. “He has my private belongings. No one sees my private things except you, hear? Not the dog boys, not Hewitt. Nobody.”

“Yessir.” Boone honked his horn in a long, persistent note that sent Jasper and the dog boys scrambling to climb back into the bed of the truck with their dogs.

Crutcher stood watching. He wasn’t Boone by a long shot, but Haddock wanted to keep an eye on him during his initiation. “You come on under the fence with me,” Haddock said. “Take off that coat so you don’t dirty up that pretty suit.”