Just after Rodney delivered the bad news.

  The black call window disappeared from the screen after Marcus ended the call. Rodney was glad he didn’t have to hear the gut-wrenching cries of Peter’s mother or grandmother, though that wasn’t to say hearing the pain in Mr. Avery’s voice was any easier. He could tell they loved Peter, having been out for who knows how long searching for him deep into the night. It grieved his heart that this was how their search ended.

  “They didn’t deserve this…but when was life ever fair?” He shook his head and turned his attention back to the body Peter once inhabited. It was silent, but Rodney knew it had a lot to say.

  The first step was to inspect for all visible signs of injury, and this was where Rodney had to heave his sentiments aside and treat this corpse as a case to be solved. It wasn’t hard for him to see all the cuts and scrapes marring the child’s battered frame, or the foot that was contorted as though someone violently twisted it like a corkscrew.

  “Breathe, Rodney, he’s not feeling that anymore.” The bat told himself. Ready to proceed, he flicked the bright table light on and dimmed the room’s ceiling lights to a dark azure. Every detail on Peter’s body came to life. Rodney could make out the individual hairs, spots, and blemishes on his skin. The dried blood from his manifold cuts glistened faintly and he perceived the equally numerous flecks and granules. He took note of his dampened fur as well. He wasn’t sure if that was due to the river he was found by, or if the body bag he was transported in wasn’t completely waterproof, and some of the rain permeated and made contact with his skin.

  Of course, these were all just cursory notes. Rodney expected the x-rays to reveal more and, if needed, an actual incision.

  “I should find out the source of that water first; if it’s rainwater, I gotta tell them not to use this material for the body bags anymore.”

  After all, a few drops was all it took to wash away potential evidence or tamper with the results of a case study. He couldn’t fathom giving the boy’s family a tainted account ruined by the rain. With a sterile swab, he collected a minuscule dab of water off Peter’s right paw and stored it in a small, cylindrical container in order to analyze the contents at a molecular level. As he did, he hesitated briefly to note the granules that accompanied it.

  “That…is that from the trail’s dirt…or a rock? I’ll have to verify that too…”

  A coroner couldn’t afford to overlook any detail; the smallest grain of sand could harbor, for example, a trace molecule of cyanide. There didn’t appear to be anything unusual about the granule except that…

  …Maybe it came from the attacker’s weapon of choice. The witness did report that the boy was murdered.

  “No, don’t jump to conclusions; analyze these first.” He shook his head.

  Of course, Rodney’s lab was equipped with technology that’d easily allow him to analyze these diminutive objects down to their subatomic levels. It didn’t take long for him to find that the water held minuscule particles of dirt and minerals, and the granule was an ordinary speck of soil. Nothing about it divulged anything of use to the bat.

  But the water confirmed one piece of the puzzle.

  “River water, like I thought. But…” He looked back at Peter’s body; one tip of his wing under his chin. “Why were you in the river?”

  He didn’t know how significant the river’s role in his investigation was quite yet, but that detail might play out over time. There was one larger issue that was more pressing on his mind at the moment.

  Who was the attacker?

  If the witness’ report was accurate, then Rodney would expect to find the assailant’s DNA on Peter’s body. He studied the mangled torso once more and looked for patterns resembling prints, or darker spots indicating bruises. He knew that any bruises he found would need to be meticulously studied; contusions made ante or post mortem could make the difference between determining cause of death and whether the person seen striking Peter was really to blame.

  Then he noticed them. They were faint and moderately obscured, likely from smudging from being inside the body bag, but the shapes were there.

  Squirrel paw prints, indicated by telltale dirt patterns. They were concentrated mostly on Peter’s chest, though some were found on the upper abdomen. Rodney looked over the rest of the child’s supine body, but didn’t see the small paw prints anywhere else. He even studied the victim’s neck, knowing that strangling was the primary mode of execution by an unarmed assailant, but there was zero evidence of hands, cord-like objects, or anything squeezing his neck. No indent of any kind in sight.

  “It appears all the deformities and contortions on Peter’s body are centered on his foot and thoracic cavity, and there’s no other physical or visible signs of violence elsewhere.”

  Of course, Rodney made sure to log all of his observations and thoughts, as well as photograph every marking and wound. Everything he did, even down to sampling a few drops of river water, had to be meticulously recorded and dated. If not for his bosses at the National Sheriffs Department and Bureau of Justice, then for himself

  The next step was to identify the prints on Peter’s chest. Because Rodney didn’t have the presence of the other squirrel, getting a read on the prints would take longer. It was far from impossible, though. He applied a special piece of tape to the most prominent smudge on Peter’s chest and transferred as big a sample as he could onto it (while removing a small patch of fur in the process). Then he laid the piece of tape on a demarcated section of desk by the computer, and scanned it with the same device he used for Peter’s paw. The same screens and windows popped up on the monitor, but the process was slower this time.

  “At least it’s picking up the prints…soon we’ll know who else was there…”

  During the eight minutes Rodney waited for the results, he thought about what kind of monster would hurt and murder a small child like this. What level of hatred and cruelty could someone possibly harbor to pound the life out of a helpless child? Peter was young enough to be his son, and his paternal instinct thirsted for recompense. Ronald and Evelyn’s hunger for justice would surely be much greater. The bat uttered nothing, but his mind raced with seething rage. The killer had to pay.

  The information lit up the LED screen with a triumphant chime, snapping Rodney out of his mental fixation. His eyes immediately poured over the information…and saw a name he didn’t quite expect.

  Name: Benjamin Avery

  Animal: Squirrel

  Age: 8

  Date of Birth: March 18, 2004

  Place of Birth: Evergreen Community Hospital, Evergreen, AC

  Residence: Pine Trails, Inland Valley District

  Parents: Ronald Avery, Evelyn Avery

  Siblings: Peter Avery, Rachel Avery

  The data spawned a level of cognitive dissonance the bat wasn’t prepared for. The facts stared him in the face like they were an ancient, enigmatic riddle spun by a sphinx guarding a royal tomb. Rodney’s mouth hung open in abject shock.

  “Th-that’s…his brother!” He exclaimed. Then his mind recalled something Marcus told him earlier.

  “...we’re looking for my two grandsons…”

  There he was, the other grandson. The two brothers were together, and the implications of Ben’s presence were dire. If the witness was accurate about her statements, then it’d mean Peter was killed by his own flesh and blood.

  “I don’t want to believe that…how do these two boys wind up by themselves; one perishes and the other allegedly strikes him repeatedly? And how'd Peter end up in the river? It’s possible…but this isn’t the whole story. Peter’ll have to start telling me more…”

  Rodney jotted down this unseemly discovery in his log. Given the locations of Benjamin’s prints, Rodney knew he should focus on Peter’s thoracic cavity and look for potentially fatal damages in it. If a rib snapped off somehow, it could puncture a vital organ, like the heart or the lungs. Whether Benjamin had the strength to accomplish such a feat would be an issue to resolve later.

  For now, it was time to bring out the skeleton x-ray machine. If the child had any broken ribs, the electronic display would show Rodney every single one. Of course, a broken rib or bone itself can’t kill someone, but it could be the lead he needed to find out how Peter died.

  And find out if his brother was truly the killer.

  —

  Earlier that night, at Ronald and Evelyn’s house

  Cecilia successfully lulled Rachel to sleep in her own bed with a lullaby her mother made up. She used to sing it to the triplets when they were babies, and the squirrel and her sister still remembered it.

  “Sleep sound my dear child

  Mommy is here

  May your dreams be mild

  With nothing to fear…”

  There were a few more stanzas, and while it wasn’t the greatest poetry of all time, it did its job. Hearing Cecilia sing it to Rachel brought Claudia back to those days long past, and though it usually made her happy to hear, the words hit differently tonight.

  She and her sister had plenty to fear. Their father notified them not long ago that Ronald was in the hospital, and that he and everyone else were still looking for Benjamin and Peter. Knowing that one of them likely plunged into the river brought unbound terror to the girls.

  As soon as Cecilia watched Rachel drift to sleep and clutch her fluffy mouse plushie, she cried.

  “I’m gonna be sick…”

  Claudia embraced her sister and cried with her, neither sibling willing to keep their anxiety bottled up any longer. They restrained it only for the sake of not wanting to alarm their niece, who expressed mostly confusion rather than concern over this dire situation. The three-year old had no concept of family members being away for this long.

  Nor the concept of never seeing a loved one again.

  “Me too…me too…” Claudia echoed.

  A couple minutes of wordless silence passed by as the sisters comforted each other. Cecilia was the first to end it.

  “Ron and his family need our prayers…dwelling on our fears won’t help.”

  “Right...if for anything, to put us at peace.” The wolf gently set her sister down. “I-I’ll start.”

  Still in Rachel’s room, the sisters took turns praying. Their jumbled minds had trouble forming structure and coherence at first, but they powered through their tears and hiccups. Their weak, trembling voices found place to thank God for their family and for securing their souls in heavenly eternity, remembering that, in everything, to give thanks. They asked for their family to be strengthened by God’s unbound love and grace, and that Benjamin and Peter would make it back into the loving arms of their parents safe and whole again. Part of their attention was fixed on listening for either of their phones to ring. Cecilia briefly recalled the scene in Acts twelve where God answered the prayers of those in Mary’s house so quickly that when Peter announced his presence, they didn’t believe it at first. Perhaps their own prayers tonight would be answered this very moment, but their situation was not the Apostle Peter’s…and there was no guarantee the night would end well for everyone.

  The sisters remained in Rachel’s room for some time; both were famished, but at the same time couldn’t fathom tasting a morsel while their brother’s family suffered out there in the dark. Few words were exchanged between the girls; most of the noise in that room came from the occasional, awkward grumble of their stomachs and Rachel’s cadenced breathing as she slept.

  Cecilia’s phone rang, shattering the quiet. The tune of “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Variation 18” belted out at max volume and made the sisters jump. Claudia quickly placed her paws over Rachel’s ears while her sister scurried nervously to her phone.

  “It’s dad!” She announced. Finally, the tension would end and the family would all be home tonight. The last time the girls wallowed in this level of suspense over his wellbeing was when he fled for his life; they didn’t find out till the next day that he survived Jack’s murderous, blind rampage. It was a bittersweet moment; seeing Ronald safe again, but learning that Jack lost his own life as his wife helplessly watched. Cecilia and Claudia had been in harrowing scenarios before that all ended well. This too would turn out alright.

  Claudia listened in on the conversation as Cecilia took it into another room. Within seconds, the optimism in her voice disappeared. Claudia couldn’t make out what her father was telling her sister, but he sounded distressed. She left the room to find her sister and listen to the conversation more clearly; her heart beat faster as she listened to the tone of Marcus’ voice. She thought she heard Peter’s name spoken and, as she stepped into the room Cecilia was in, she saw her sister scream and drop the phone with spastic hands.

  “Sis!” Claudia quickened her steps. “Wha-”

  “Peter’s dead!” She sobbed, her hands covering her face as she wept.

  Claudia swept her smaller sister into her arms and sobbed with her; their tears only interrupted by the occasional hiccup or yip. This was cruel and unfair in every possible way…they intended the day to be fun and filled with laughter and mirth.

  Yet the bell tolled indiscriminately and thunderously for those whom the reaper’s sickle thirsted. It didn’t care that Peter was an innocent child. It didn’t care that the Averys loved each other and wanted to spend a pleasant, sun-filled day together. It didn’t care one iota about the pain and grief it caused. Its sole occupation was death. It unilaterally stamped the period over Peter’s short life; not a single “nay” could come to his defense.

  The sisters felt lost; they didn’t even get to say goodbye to their nephew. He was ripped out of their lives without warning and they could barely imagine how much pain his parents were in. Plus, what would they do if Rachel woke up right now and asked about her family? Lying was out of the question, but the truth would leave a permanent sting.

  “I’m sorry…but Peter is dead…you’re not going to see him again.”

  Cecilia knew there were more euphemistic ways to say it, but even the gentlest answer would hurt. To the sisters’ relief, the first thing Rachel said to them when she woke up half an hour later was, “I’m hungry.”

  Good. Food would keep her occupied for a little while. Claudia, being a performer, instinctively forced a smile onto her face as her niece walked in and made her request.

  “Rachel!” The wolf stood up and walked casually to her. “You’re hungry? Here, let’s go fix you something reeeeeal nice, okay?”

  She picked the tiny squirrel up with her mouth and made her way to the kitchen.

  “Is mommy and daddy home?” She asked.

  “Soon!” Cecilia blurted out without thinking. Thankfully, that pacified the child’s inquiry…for now. It wouldn’t be long until she asked about her brothers. She hated that she gave her niece false information, but her frantic mind couldn’t come up with something more honest.

  Claudia fought against the crippling agony in her heart to keep her assuring “auntie” smile on for Rachel. Her actions weren’t as well-performed as she mindlessly moved boxes and jars around in the pantry and didn’t focus on any of the labels.

  “I want that!” Rachel scurried past her aunt and climbed up to one of the higher shelves. She grabbed a small, single-serving carton of “Morrison’s Famous Mac ‘n Cheese.” Not only was it delicious and extra cheesy, but it had a picture of a happy cartoon cow on the front.

  “You want that, sweetie?” Claudia took it from her, keeping the smile on her muzzle.

  “Yeah!” Her face beamed and little tail swished excitedly.

  “Sounds good! Just sit tight, young lady, and I’ll make the best mac ‘n cheese you’ve ever tasted! You’ll have to start calling it AUNT CLAUDIA’S Famous Mac ‘n Cheese!” The aunt exclaimed with a tone so contrived that Rachel laughed. The wolf beheld how happy and carefree her niece was over the most trivial things. Her little world was in the here-and-now. There was no hurt beyond owies and booboos that mommy could kiss and make disappear. It was a world where her family was always there; a world where death wasn’t a concept. It didn’t exist. Mommy and daddy were always there to take care of her and love her and her brothers were always there to play silly games and share secrets with. It was a world that, in this moment, Claudia wanted to escape to.

  “Are you okay?” Rachel asked; the child’s voice snapping the wolf back into reality. She didn’t realize she’d spent a whole minute just staring into space.

  “Y-yes, of course! Now come on, uh, go have a seat, okay?”

  Rachel clambered down the shelves and to her usual seat at the table. Claudia angled the box so she could read the tiny directions under the light, but her eyes glazed over. She read the required ingredients eight times through before realizing she needed to move on to the directions. Her distracted gaze shifted briefly back to Rachel, still happy and excited for the cheesy meal she couldn’t wait to plunge into. She noticed the square, wooden table’s layout.

  Five chairs.

  For a family of four.

  Claudia had been here a few times before to eat with her brother and his family. Rachel always sat between Peter and her father. She recalled one moment when Peter tried to help his sister, then two, get her own food into her mouth with a spoon without making a mess. Her motor skills weren’t all there yet, but her brother helped her patiently. It was innocuous and mundane, but Claudia thought it was sweet.

  “What a precious boy you were…th-this isn’t fair…we…we all loved you so much…”

  Claudia set the box on the counter and started to cry, not caring about hiding it from Rachel. The child bounded over to her to ask what was wrong, but the bigger canine scooped the small rodent into her arms before she could say anything.

  “I love you, Rachel…I love all of you…”

  The child didn’t know why she said that, but she reciprocated the sentiment. Red flags slowly propped up in her young mind, and it wouldn’t be long before the reality of death would make an unwelcome crash into her world.

  And Claudia was mortified at the thought of being the one to defile her niece’s world with it.

  While Rachel enjoyed her cheesy supper in ignorant bliss, Cecilia found herself mindlessly meandering through various rooms. She was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep; she was starving, but didn’t want to eat. She wandered into Ben’s room; his door being left partially open.

  “I hope you’re okay, Ben…” she prayed silently.

  Ben’s room looked well-maintained, despite him being a little boy. His small bed was made and his little bookshelf was tidy and orderly aside from How Wally Saved the Bronco Times and The Secret of Swamp Sewer! lying haphazardly atop another row of books. His games and toys were stowed away neatly under his bed and in his toy chest…except for a single rogue crayon lying indolent in the middle of the floor.

  “Forgot one! I’ll get that for you.”

  Cecilia stooped to pick up the red crayon when she noticed something unusual. The gap between the wooden planks the crayon was near was a little wider than the others…and the squirrel thought she saw something under it. She stooped lower; her right eye nearly meeting the floor.

  “Is that…paper…and more crayons?”

  If this was a little vault Ben wanted to keep secret, Cecilia knew she should walk away. But, as it was with people confronted with the covert and clandestine, she quickly justified a solid reason for opening the plank.

  “...He won't mind; I’m his aunt after all!”

  She nudged the plank slightly to give her hands enough leverage. After finding her grip, she easily lifted and slid the plank to the side. The vault was small, its opening four by eight inches wide, and six inches deep. She was right about what she saw; paper, crayons, pencils, and erasers.

  “You draw? Why are you hiding this?! I’m sure your parents would love to see it!” She proceeded to take the piece of paper out. “I’m sure it looks beautif-”

  She stopped mid-thought as she beheld her nephew’s drawing. Never had a piece of art left her this speechless.

  -

  Marcus, Evelyn, and Diane stood together in the hospital’s elevator as it ascended to the third floor. The friendly doe receptionist told them that was where Ronald was recuperating from his surgery. Marcus and Diane muttered a ‘thank you,’ but Evelyn remained silent. Her mind was occupied with the thought that her husband was about to have his world crushed.

  In the elevator, Marcus laid his paw comfortingly over Evelyn’s.

  “I’ll tell him.” Was all he said to her. She simply nodded without looking up at him.

  The steel doors slid open at the third floor, revealing a clean, white-tiled hallway lined with various numbered rooms. Evelyn had been up here three separate times; one for each time she recovered from bringing her children into the world. The memories brought her to a happy, but fleeting place. It was here she’d entertain thoughts of what it was going to be like to be a mother; even upon giving birth to her second and third children, those thoughts began afresh. Her children were special in their own ways, and she couldn’t wait to nurture and teach them about how to live out their journeys through this world. Being a mom gave her immense joy.

  She was still in denial that Peter’s journey was over. Her world may not ever make sense again.

  Marcus led the others in silence towards Ronald’s room. He hoped his son was awake and alert; it was better to get the horrible news out now than wait. As they got closer, they heard his voice, as well as another that was gruff. Marcus guessed it belonged to a larger feline or canine.

  “Sorry I was being a jackass.” The deeper voice declared loudly enough for the adjacent rooms to hear and likely wake up sleeping patients.

  “It’s fine,” Ronald uttered. The two heard footsteps enter their room.

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  “Ronald?” The bedridden squirrel heard his father and his ears perked up. There were two beds concealed behind curtains, and Marcus didn’t want to open the wrong one.

  “Over here!”

  Faster than one could blink, his wife darted in and leapt upon him with a tearful hug. He returned it, though it made his right arm hurt thanks to the IV in it.

  “Ronny!” She nearly suffocated him with her embrace and Marcus had to pull her away slightly.

  “Evelyn, mom, dad…” Ronald smiled, but only briefly. “You don’t know…you don’t know how glad I am to see you again. I-The nurse told me I had surgery on my foot because it was fractured…They found me by the river and helped me…I don’t remember what it was like being in the river very much, but…I’m just happy to be alive.”

  “I am too.” Evelyn offered a weak smile. She opened her mouth again as if to say more, but decided to remain reticent.

  Ronald was about to ask if everything was okay when his father let out a pained sigh. The wolf’s ears drooped and he sniffled. Whatever he had to say, it was not going to be pleasant.

  “Son,” Marcus took a few steps toward him, putting his assuring paw gently on his shoulder. Diane and Evelyn slowly started to cry again; Evelyn leaving the curtained area because she couldn’t bear to hear it again.

  “Dad…what’s going on?” He looked into his face and saw a morose and beleaguered expression, it was enough to inch his blood pressure upwards.

  Marcus hesitated for several seconds in uncomfortable silence before opening his mouth to speak. His eyes shifted away from Ronald’s, and with a grave whisper, intoned, “Peter was found dead by the river…I am sorry…”

  Diane left the bed to console Evelyn, who shattered into tears yet again. Meanwhile, dead silence filled the air around Ronald. His ears nor any of his other senses registered anything. The bereaved father stared blankly at nothing. His mouth hung agape and his limbs trembled.

  “No, no…not my son…I-I tried to save him…” His voice trailed off and his whole body started to shake, almost resembling a convulsion. He released a sudden, agonized yelp, as though a javelin thrust him through. Tears and sobs erupted from the stricken squirrel as he buried his face into the pillow.

  To his credit, Marcus kept himself together despite being the messenger of bad news. He still had to call Xavier and Janet, whom he assumed were still looking for their nephews. It was a soul-sucking venture, but better he did it than Evelyn or Diane.

  Speaking of which, the two women came back through the bedside curtain. Evelyn leapt up to Ronald’s side so he wouldn’t have to suffer without her. They gripped each other’s paws and didn’t let go.

  “Going to call Xavier and Janet.” Marcus sighed and left the curtained area. Diane nodded and whispered to him.

  “Thanks for being strong.” She nuzzled his neck lightly.

  “I’m trying…” He uttered and shook his head.

  He found a quiet spot in the hallway and tapped Xavier’s name in his ‘contacts’ list. His son picked up after several elongated seconds.

  “Hey dad.” Xavier answered with a hopeless voice.

  “Hey. Uh, is Janet with you?”

  “Yeah. We can’t find them…We’re getting scared. We, uh, lost Ben’s scent…”

  “I’m with your mom, Evelyn, and Ronald right now at Evergreen Community. Ronald had surgery and is recovering right now, but the three of us can join you.” Marcus replied. “Are you close to the hospital?”

  “No, but we can call for a cab down there if you think we should turn in for the night.”

  “That’s a better idea; we’re all tired and we’ll function better after some sleep. Meet us here and we’ll find a motel or something nearby.”

  Xavier and Janet met up with the others in Ronald’s room a half-hour later; the two were dirty and weary, like two field workers who’d spent all day in the hot sun. They were about to ask how everyone was until they noticed how dejected and forlorn they looked.

  “Xavier, Janet, come with me.” Their father instructed with a subdued tone and led them into the hallway. The younger wolves looked their father in the eyes, as was their habit when they knew he had serious news for them. Given today’s circumstances, they feared the worst.

  For the fourth time that night, the older gray wolf brought the sledge hammer down on his family. It was the fourth time that night he brought someone to tears and ripped their heart out. It was the fourth time, but the last hurt Marcus as much as the first. Janet was the first to crumble into tears; her brother held her, letting her cry into his fur. Their father held them both as Xavier followed his sister’s suit.

  However, only a minute passed before Marcus’ phone rang.

  Rodney again.

  Marcus groaned. He wanted to sleep and put all this misery behind him. He hated that every other sentence out of his mouth the past few hours had been about death, and just when he thought he was finally getting a break…here was the coroner…again. He wasn’t mad at Rodney, but then again, he sort of was.

  He found a quieter corner of the hallway and slid his paw across the screen to answer rather than smash his phone in a frustrated paroxysm. He reminded himself that Mr. Beltran was just doing his job and keeping his promise.

  “Hello.” He uttered painfully. “...Marcus speaking.”

  “Hi…I apologize for calling so late, but I have an important update on my research. Are you still with your wife and Evelyn?”

  “Yes…and Ronald is here too.”

  “Any word on Benjamin?”

  “...No…” Marcus groaned.

  “Well, I’m not sure if this information will help you or law enforcement pinpoint his location, but I can tell you with certainty that Ben was with Peter before, at, or shortly after his passing. I’ve already let the police know.”

  “What?!” Marcus almost dropped the phone. “Tell me more. How do you know this?!”

  “I identified his pawprints on Peter’s body; they were mostly concentrated on his chest, and couldn’t have been more than a couple hours old. Other prints from his parents and loved ones were present, as expected, but were considerably weaker and didn’t match the fresh dirt patterns on his fur, like Ben’s did.”

  “Are you insinuating-?” Marcus bared teeth slightly.

  “No, I’m not saying that at all.” Rodney calmly defended, knowing the bereaved grandfather would say that. “All I know is that Ben made physical contact with Peter more recently than anyone else in the family. I’m not accusing anyone or anything; I’m saying this means Ben can’t be that far from the scene, and he might be able to help us understand what happened.”

  Rodney knew the hare was the main witness to the event, but didn’t want to cause the Avery’s anxiety over the fact that the lone witness thought Ben murdered his brother. For now, she wasn’t relevant to them.

  And he hoped she’d never be.

  “Sorry I jumped down your throat.” Marcus ceded. “It’s just…I’ve been on edge all night; you understand…”

  “It’s alright; I only called about this because I thought it’d be a relief to hear your grandson may be close by.”

  It was a relief, though a small one. The Avery’s already enlisted the help of police earlier that day to help them find Benjamin and Peter. One search ended horribly while Ben somehow eluded their search efforts. Why was it taking so long? Was his grandson hiding? Was he lost?

  Was he dead?

  “We’re spending all of tomorrow looking for him too.” Marcus failed to suppress a yawn. “I appreciate what you’re doing, sir.”

  “You should get some sleep. If you want to initiate your own search, I’d suggest going down to the police station in the morning and finding out where Peter was found. That’d be your best starting point.”

  Would the police be open to the Avery’s conducting their own search? Bad memories of Detective Kite came to mind; how that inept chipmunk told him not to look for the triplets because ‘they’d undermine the investigation.’ Marcus wasn’t in the mood for a reenactment; hopefully the Evergreen police would be more sensible and agreeable to letting four wolves track down their family’s scent.

  After midnight, Marcus booked a couple rooms for himself, Diane, Xavier, Janet, and Evelyn at a nearby Sunrise Inn so they could get some much-needed slumber and start fresh the next day. Evelyn and the siblings shared a room, and Marcus and Diane occupied another. Once Marcus was in his room, he tried calling Claudia to ask how she, Cecilia, and Rachel were holding up, but no one answered.

  “Probably asleep. I’ll send them a text…”

  Marcus texted his daughters about the family’s plans to look for Ben tomorrow and to keep their nephew in their prayers. He silenced his phone, set an alarm for six, and drowsily plopped the device screen-down on the balsa-wood table beside the bed. He rolled over to face Diane, who sleepily nuzzled his neck and nestled her head against his chest. He gave her a light kiss on the forehead and fell asleep.

  -

  Ben watched helplessly as Peter’s body laid inside an ornate, blackwood coffin and lowered into a bottomless pit.

  “Peter!” The boy cried and yanked on the cables lowering his little brother further and further into the ground.

  “Don’t bother.” A dark-suited Ronald coldly intoned, peering at his son with a dead stare. “You did this to him.”

  A black-veiled Evelyn appeared beside Ronald and glared at Benjamin with eyes red from exhaustion and anger. “You always hated 'im…you killed my baby on purpose…”

  Benjamin took a step back. “W-wait! It’s not-!”

  A faceless, formless gray figure appeared beside Evelyn. Benjamin couldn’t make it out, but its words were all too familiar.

  “You STUPID little shit!” It barked. “This is YOUR fault! You ruin EVERYTHING!”

  Blind terror gripped Benjamin’s heart, but he couldn’t move. Chains from the ground held him paralyzed. A long, cold arm extended from the gray figure, resembling a nameless specter seeking to imprison souls with insurmountable dread. It seized the helpless child and pulled him mere inches from its face. The young squirrel thought he saw thin, yellow ovals inside the gray form and black slits boring into his eyes.

  “You will be found…” A raspy, guttural voice oozed out like black sludge from an old, plague-infested sewer. “The maggots in the lowest hell will feast on your organs…”

  “Please…no…” Ben weakly wriggled and squirmed, but the monster’s grip was taut.

  “They’ve already begun.” The form cackled. Ben’s gaze shot down and he saw tiny, wormlike abominations slithering up his legs. As they moved upward, his skin disappeared, exposing bone and pieces of viscera. He screamed in protest, but the gray form only laughed, exposing black, sludge-caked molars tattered with chunks of flesh and fur.

  “END HIM!” It roared as the maggots consumed the little squirrel. A small skeleton was all that remained when they filled themselves, and a disembodied Ben watched as the form crushed his bones into a powder with a blow from its fist. Poor Benjamin cried and pleaded for forgiveness and restoration…but all backs turned to him.

  -

  “Hey, you there!” The backside of a giant paw nudged Ben’s rump. “What’cha doing in there? Everythin’ alright?”

  The squirrel’s eyes shot open. He was back in the mouse burrow and sweating bullets. Was someone trying to yank him out? He realized his tail wasn’t fully tucked under his body, and feared that whoever was outside was trying to extract him.

  “AAAH!” Ben protested as he felt a paw grasp the base of his tail firmly and slowly pull him out. “Stop it!”

  The larger creature ignored him as he lifted the helpless squirrel higher and higher. He adjusted his grip so he could hold the squirrel normally rather than let him dangle uncomfortably by his tail.

  “You poor fella’, you’re all dirty!” The larger creature turned Ben around so he could get a good look at his face and overall condition. The squirrel came face-to-face with a seven-foot tall grizzly bear. He had a towering and sturdy frame, a strong, rounded jaw, and an iron-like grip perfect for dragging horrible little rodents to jail. He wore a wide straw hat and glasses and carried gear of some kind on his back. His skin sagged a little in places, causing Ben to take him as an older person, probably around Marcus’ age. He had a slightly gaunt figure for an ursine form, but was hardly decrepit. He looked like he took care of himself.

  “AAAAHHHH!” The squirrel wailed and flung his tiny arms; maybe he’d land the perfect punch and take out the giant bear.

  “Shhh, it’s okay.” The giant brown stranger spoke soothingly and held a pacifying paw to the child’s mouth. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

  “Who are you?” Ben stopped struggling, but his little heart still pounded a mile a minute. The shadow cast by the hat’s brim over the bear’s eyes made his expression difficult to read, but the bear didn’t seem to be a person of ill-intent. He cradled Ben like one would a frightened animal and his initial onset of terror was replaced by confused relief. Perhaps this was a nice bear.

  “Name’s Bill, and I saw ya as I was walkin’ to my favorite fishin’ spot. Only squirrels I see out here are ferals, so I knew somethin’ was up when I saw you in that hole. What’s a little kid like you doin’ way out here all alone? Where’re your folks at?”

  “I, uh, uhhhh…..uh,” Ben stammered as the bear waited patiently for an answer. “I, uh, I…I got lost, and, uh…you see, we were going camping, and, well, uh…I got separated from them.”

  Bill furrowed his brow. “Ya hidin' somethin’?”

  “Wh-what?! N-no! It’s the honest truth! I s-swear! Cherry on top!”

  This was it. Bill must’ve been an undercover cop from Evergreen and was here to drag Ben back to the city and accuse him in the sight of the whole town. The evidence would be laid against him and the townspeople would stone him to death.

  Bill didn’t say anything at first as he studied Ben’s expression and body language. The frightened squirrel gazed back up at him with terror and timidity in his eyes, but made no attempt to flee. Something else was afoot in the rodent’s life, and the elderly bear couldn’t drop it.

  “How ‘bout I help you find them?”

  Ben gasped and his eyes darted frantically; the last people he wanted to confront were his parents. How could he stand before those whose precious child he murdered? His heart raced.

  “No wait!” Ben nearly screamed. “I-I was lying!”

  Bill waited.

  “You see…I-I…I don’t have parents or, uh, a family at all! I-I’m actually running away from, uh…oh yeah, the orphan place! I hate it there, uh…they hit us every day and don’t let us eat, uh, s-somet-times!”

  Bill nodded. “Oh dear…let me guess, is it the one on Townsend Road, in Evergreen? The one with the blue roof and colorful awnings?”

  Ben didn’t know what an awning was, but he nodded. “Yeah, that one!”

  Bill nodded again and exhaled a pensive sigh. No such place existed because there was no Townsend Road in Evergreen. It was also telling that Ben’s body bore no bruise markings; strange for an “orphan who got hit everyday.”

  “You poor, poor thing.” Bill clicked his tongue and shook his head. “...How ‘bout…you hang out with me for a while and I’ll take care of ya? I got food and everythin’; I can share.”

  Bill gave Ben a reassuring smile. Could the vulnerable squirrel trust him? The bear seemed to believe his story; an undercover cop would’ve blown his alibi to smithereens. Perhaps the grizzly was genuine and wanted to help the child, and it’d be nice to confide in someone who didn’t know about his transgressions. The small rodent nodded and accepted his invitation.

  Perhaps Bill would help him figure out what to do.

  “Thank you, uh, sir.” Ben said.

  “Just happy I could help…son.” Bill gave the little squirrel a playful nudge with his paw, like how a grandpa might play with his grandson. Ben let a smile make an appearance on his face for once and climbed up onto Bill’s shoulder. He couldn’t explain it, but he had a gut feeling that Bill, being much older and wiser than him, would know how to help him. Was it because his own dad was helped by a stranger when he was Ben’s age? Perhaps Bill would be to Ben what Marcus was to his dad.

  A solution.

  “Like fishin?” Bill asked.

  “My grand-” Ben was about to mention his grandpa when he covered his mouth with his paws. “I mean, my grand…friend liked fishing! I’m no good at it though.”

  “A grand friend, you say?” Bill chuckled. “I like the sound of that. Did he live in the orphanage too?”

  “Uh…yeah, he did. I-I’m gonna miss him.”

  “He run away too?”

  “Yeah, uh, a lot of us did. He went a different way than me.”

  “Aw, sorry to hear that, son. Perhaps I can be your grand friend? We’ll go fishin’ together; I’ll even teach ya.”

  “Uh, sure!” Ben couldn’t say no to distraction.

  -

  Bill’s fishing spot was just a mile to the east. Ben remained reticent; his brother’s demise continued to gnaw and tear at his insides. He put on a peaceful front but wanted to crumble to pieces and melt into the ground. Away from people, away from guilt, away from a wounded life that promised a perpetually hopeless existence.

  “Somethin’ troublin’ you?” Bill asked as the sparkling stream came into view.

  “Y…no….I’m fine.”

  “You can talk to me, son; I won’t judge.”

  The older ursine set his gear down when they reached the stream. The mere sight of flowing water made Ben tear up and whimper; Bill felt his tiny hands grip his fur tighter.

  “Ben?” Bill turned his head and faced him.

  “Uh….” Ben stammered. “I, uh, I…I’m soooo bad at fishing. I’ll be embarrassed…”

  Bill chuckled. “Come on, you think I’m gonna punish you or something for missin’ a fish? Who cares? I miss them suckers all the time!”

  The bear carefully opened his bag and took out a tackle box that appeared to be brand new. Ben’s curiosity was piqued, as is the case when an unusual box is opened in the vicinity of a small child. Nothing in the box looked familiar, but he assumed it was stuff meant to help Bill catch fish.

  “What’s that hook thing?” Ben pointed.

  Bill extracted the item. “It’s a hook; it keeps the fish from swimmin' away once it gets trapped. It gets stuck on it, then I reel it in.”

  “Oh.” Ben nodded.

  Ben watched Bill assemble his fishing rod and line; he asked intermittent questions in the process but didn’t focus on anything he said. The gentle stream roared in his ears as it swept his brother and father away.

  “Ben?” The bear nudged the stricken squirrel from his stream of consciousness and looked on him with fatherly concern. “Are you cryin’?”

  “N-no!” Ben brushed the water from his eyes and mucus from his snout. “I-I’m fine…”

  Bill let out a pensive grunt. “How ‘bout…I’ll catch a fish, and then I’ll let you try. I’ll guide you and everything, but you gotta pay attention.”

  “I’ll try…”

  Bill let his line down beneath the stream’s supple surface with a gentle plop. He fixed his attention on the stream for unsuspecting catfish, perch, trout, and whatever other kinds of fish a bear could ever want. For a moment, Ben’s addled mind was drawn to the sprinkles of afternoon sun that glittered in the water. They danced in cadence with the rhythm of the river. It was a movement that paid no heed to anyone’s woes and tribulations; it journeyed the course determined for it since creation and never deviated. Timeless, never-ending, and dependable.

  Ben’s mind was then drawn to his own Creator. Timeless, eternal, trustworthy…

  Words he once heard his pastor say marched into his mind like a battering ram intent on tearing down Satan’s strongholds.

  “Faithful…merciful…forgiving…raising the dead…”

  The thought of Peter alive again soothed the little squirrel’s mind for a second, turning the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly.

  “Nuts! Almost had it!” Bill exclaimed, throwing a boulder into Ben’s stream of thought and damming it.

  “H-huh?! I-I’m sorry!” Ben snapped his head toward the bear and apologized by instinct. He was sure Bill’s outburst had to do with the squirrel’s worthless existence.

  “Almost got that pike; stupid lil’ bugger…What’re you sorry for?”

  “I…” Ben stuttered. “I thought I d-did something bad…” He hung his head. “Maybe I scared the fish away…I-I always mess things up. Everything’s my fault…”

  Ben’s eyes started to cloud with moisture and Bill set his rod down. “Where on earth did’ya hear such a crazy thing?”

  He didn’t have an answer to that, but his mind plastered the familiar gray form in his conscience. It towered over him and pointed without end; accusation dripping from its finger like toxic bile.

  “You STUPID little shit!”

  The next image in his mind was his little brother. Lifeless, cold, staring into nothing. His fists pounded relentlessly onto his chest until he struck the fatal blow.

  “I killed him…It’s all my fault…”

  Ben’s tirade of thoughts that ground him to powder the previous night returned. Bill dropped his fishing rod as the tiny squirrel broke down and screamed in agony.

  “I KILLED HIM!” He crumbled into a scraggly heap of brown on the river bank. He took in a mouthful of dirt and grass, but didn’t care. The ground could’ve opened up and swallowed him for all he cared. “I KILLED MY BROTHER!”

  The grizzly beheld the hapless rodent; the small thing heaving and coughing as his tears soaked the ground. He gently scooped the kid into his arms and let him cry onto his chest.

  Bill wasn’t surprised by any of this.

  “Stop, STOP!” Bill urged, but Ben wept sore.

  “I did too!” Ben wailed. “I h-hit him over and over a-and he died! It’s ALL my fault!”

  “I’m sure you didn’t-”

  “But I DID! I-I tried to save him! H-he was drowned, and, and…I tried to get all the water o-out, but…but i-it didn’t work! I...wanted to wake him up…I didn’t wanna kill him…I-I’m……so evil…”

  Ben’s voice was partially muffled by Bill’s fur, along with his own hacking, coughing, and tears. Bill’s mind raced as he cradled the gutted child in his paws. His leisurely day of fishing and mirth was interrupted by a little boy who killed his own brother.

  “Ben…” The bear dolefully uttered. “I…I’m so sorry. I had no idea-”

  “I should die a billion times! I’m EVIL and STUPID and BAD!”

  “Stop! For the love of God, stop!” Bill held him firmly before his face and spoke to him sternly, which made Ben quiet down immediately. “Look…how ‘bout…we go to my house and talk about this. You need help and I can give it to you. You just…need to calm down and think…”

  The caring expression from the bear struck a familiar chord in Ben’s heart. He was sure he’d never seen Bill before today…yet he felt like he did. All he knew was that he should trust this bear.

  “I’ll help you sort your mess, son. I’ve helped people before…they had troubles, like you; folks at the end of their rope only wantin’ peace and answers. I know I can help ya…” Bill focused his eyes intently into Ben’s.

  “...but you’ll have to trust me.”

  Ben surveyed his surroundings. All around him were endless fields, groves, rolling hills, and forest-laden mountains in the distance. In this great, green expanse…he saw no one else but Bill. No one else to offer help, no one else to offer solace, no one else to offer hope and forgiveness.

  Not even his family was around.

  Were they even looking for him? A portion of his family were wolves, and somehow not one of them tracked him down yet. Maybe their noses weren’t working, or they hated him and didn’t care enough to look for him. It was obviously the latter.

  “Good riddance,” he pictured his grandfather with a dour expression and spitting on the ground in disgust, “don’t have to see that horrible grandson of mine anymore.”

  A thought crossed Ben’s mind that he’d also likely disappoint Bill in a matter of time, as it was his manner to disappoint everyone he ever met. However, the bear didn’t seem to hate him yet, so the squirrel viewed him as his only option.

  “I…I…I trust you.” Ben admitted pitifully. “I really hope you can help me…”

  Bill rubbed one of his fingers lightly under Ben’s reddened eyes to wipe the remnant moisture away. “I will, son, I will.” He smiled.

  The bear cut his fishing short, but didn’t mind. He wasn’t having as much luck with the fish as he’d like and his mind was too fixated on Ben to concentrate on anything else. He packed up his gear and let the frazzled little squirrel climb onto his head so he could hide under his straw hat (can’t let the police spot him and take him away).

  “Comfortable up there?” The grizzly asked.

  “Yeah.” Ben uttered. Minuscule slivers of late afternoon sun permeated the hat, allowing the squirrel sufficient darkness while enabling him to peek outside.

  “Welp, let’s go then. It’s five miles to my house, so sit tight.”

  -

  A light drizzle speckled the land as Bill entered Evergreen city limits. Not many people were out; those that were were running errands, leaving work, or simply milling about. A few said hi to Bill as they passed by and he said hi and smiled back.

  No one was aware of the napping squirrel on top of his head.

  He turned onto his own street as the sun was setting. The 300 block of Donovan Street was a cozy, upper middle-class neighborhood. It was also a cul-de-sac; Bill’s house being towards the end of it. He waved hi to a red panda father teaching his little kid to ride a bike and Mrs. Jackson, a dingo in the middle of unloading groceries from her trunk. He greeted her with a with a cordial “How do you do?” Most families were inside as moms and dads were setting dinner or urging their stubborn kids to finish their homework. It was encroaching on Sunday evening after all.

  Halfway down his street, the bear spotted a piece of paper with a photo on it taped with multiple pieces of tape to one of the light poles. He deviated from his path to get a better look at it. Meanwhile, Ben’s eyes slowly opened as his nap ended.

  “Bill?” He yawned.

  “Shh…” The bear shushed him. “Want the cops to find ya?”

  Ben laid low. Had a police officer been nearby, he would’ve surely outed himself with his careless, brazen outburst. He wasn’t able to see much outside because it was getting dark, but could tell this was a neighborhood.

  “There’s more houses here than at home. Where are we?”

  Out of one slit, he noticed the paper as well. He couldn’t see the photo, but he noticed the word printed in bold and all-caps above it.

  “MI-M-MISSING,” He read, “MISSING..PER-?”

  Ben adjusted his position to try to see more of the paper, but Bill’s paw blocked it from view…

  …before tearing it off, crumpling it, and stuffing it into his bag.

  -

  Ben’s vision remained obscured as Bill walked to his cedar front door. The outside light he left on illuminated the porch with a bright, warm yellow. Slivers of light found their way through the straw hat, tempting Ben to leap out and finally discover where he was.

  “Coast is clear, son.” Bill announced after he unlocked and opened the door. He took his hat off and hung it up on the rack. Ben didn’t jump off right away, taking in his new environment.

  “Whoa…” Ben’s eyes bulged at the spacious and affluent display; at least it was opulent compared to his own house. The foyer was nearly the size of his own room. The room to the right was the dining room. The floor was made from cocobolo wood; it was reddish-brown and had irregular patterns that swept across the span of the room, a novel and curious thing to the squirrel. The table seemed large enough to recreate The Last Supper, and an exotic plant Ben didn’t recognize occupied its center. His observations would’ve continued had his empty stomach not noisily demanded food.

  The last time he ate was when his mom prepared pancakes and hash for breakfast yesterday. Almost thirty-six hours ago.

  “Take a seat at the table and I’ll make ya something.” Bill realized he forgot to give the child food from his snack box earlier. “What do ya like?”

  “Uh…I guess…anything's fine, thanks…”

  As famished as he was, Ben knew he didn’t deserve to eat and sustain himself anymore. Perhaps Bill would be charitable and cram the food down his throat.

  “How'd you like…” The bear racked his brain for a few seconds. “Morrison’s Famous Mac ‘n Cheese? Don’t eat it myself, but the grandkids love it.”

  Ben instinctively drooled when he mentioned it…then he moaned sadly. It reminded him of when his mother would prepare it with extra cheese and added herbs and seasonings for him and his siblings. He remembered the last time they ate it, half of Peter’s helping wound up on his face like make-up in an attempt to induce a giggle siege on Rachel and irritate mom. Rachel thought it was the funniest thing (though not more than the whoopie cushion) but Evelyn wasn’t happy she had to clean the mess. It was hard removing sticky cheese from fur.

  He couldn’t accept that Peter wasn’t around to do that anymore…he loved making everyone laugh.

  Including his depressed brother.

  “Sure…I’ll have some, thanks…”

  “You don’t sound thrilled about it.” Bill chuckled.

  Ben shook his head. “N-no, I am. I’m just sad…”

  “Thinkin’ about your brother, aren’t-cha.” He stated. "What was his name?"

  Ben nodded and moaned. "Peter..."

  “Look,” Bill knelt and lifted Ben’s chin up so he could look him in the eyes, “I don’t say it to be mean…but…Peter ain’t comin’ back, and there’s no use cryin’ about stuff you can’t change.”

  “I know…” Ben sniffled.

  “But I’m gonna help you deal with it, ‘kay? We’ll eat first, get cleaned up, go to sleep, then I’ll…” Bill hesitated for a second. “help ya.”

  “Okay…” Ben wiped his nose.

  “Now go sit before I give ya another talkin’ to. I’ll make the best mac ‘n cheese for ya and I want you to enjoy it!” He gently patted Ben on the back and the squirrel sauntered over to one of the fourteen chairs surrounding the table. He thought about the bear’s words…his brother’s death ate at him, but what would his self-flagellation do? Crying and sobbing weren’t going to change anything, so why not just try to enjoy things?

  If God was going to kill him one day for murdering his brother…he may as well soak what he could out of life before facing the consuming fire.

  The TV was blaring in an adjacent room. Ben didn’t pay attention to it, but Bill listened. It was tuned in to NBS, a mainstream news network on channel eight that Ben’s parents never had on in the house. A female otter with a black, wavy wig and a red bow talked into a camera.

  “...As police continue to investigate the murder of Peter Avery and his brother’s disappearance, other arrests have been made by Evergreen law enforcement. Two miners have been apprehended in connection to two explosions that occurred in Blueberry Grove yesterday afternoon. Reports say they violated orders from Evergreen Forest Authority not to mine in the area. Charges are expected to be pressed…”

  “Murder of Peter Avery…and his brother’s disappearance…” Bill furrowed his brow as he looked over at Ben. “You mentioned your brother’s name was Peter…are you…yes…I’m sure you’re…”

  Ben caught Bill looking at him, though the bear only returned a friendly smile.

  “I just realized…I could be a while.” Bill announced. “Want to go in there and watch a cartoon or somethin’? I can change the channel for ya.”

  “Uh, sure!”

  The news cut to a different story right as Ben scampered into the room. Bill changed it to channel forty-one, the cartoon channel his grandkids loved watching. On the screen appeared two cowboys hunting a ne’er-do-well named Peg-Leg Larry, an evil black bear with a permanent scowl who tied damsels onto railroad tracks and robbed banks with a generic pistol. Ben remembered his dad saying he didn’t like this show after getting adopted, but the young boy was hooked by the zany antics and goofy plots.

  Meanwhile, Bill silently inspected all the windows in his house to make sure all the curtains were closed and nobody could see inside. It took a minute since there were two floors, but it was worth it if it meant keeping nosy people from snooping about. He paused at a window in his own bedroom as he thought of Ben and his situation…and a tear rolled down his cheek.

  “I’ll save you from those people, Ben…I’ll save you from a life of sadness…”

  He picked up a picture frame on his oak nightstand and gazed upon it for a few minutes. It was a faded-color photo of him and his wife as newlyweds almost forty years ago. He lovingly brushed his paw over her young, beaming face.

  “Donna, you left us too soon…but you knew what was best. Thank you for giving me the courage to do the right thing…”

  He paused for another minute as other thoughts inundated his mind. After leaving a gentle kiss for her, he set the frame down and returned to cooking dinner.

  -

  Earlier that day, early morning

  Rodney didn’t sleep all night…after hours’ worth of x-rays, incisions, and analyses…he found the answer.

  The Averys would have closure soon. He didn’t know if Marcus was awake yet, but he hastily dialed his number nonetheless. The forlorn grandfather expressed anger the previous night at the thought of Ben even being considered as Peter’s killer. It was more than understandable, but Rodney knew he had to let the evidence do the talking.

  Soon the wolf and his family would be struck by cold, hard facts…the reports the bat had to submit to the City Sheriff and Defense Attorney would forever impact the family.

  He wanted to cry for the poor squirrel.