Landon stopped by the next day, presumably to make sure I survived the night. I was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt and the bruises were plainly visible. I was trying to hang the pictures Mark had given me, and Landon stood in the middle of the room advising which way to tilt the frame so they hung straight.
“Those are cool pictures. Where did you find prints like that? I didn’t know Mark Mireau had a studio around here. I’ve never seen pictures by him that weren’t of wildlife.”
“He showed me the wildlife ones he took, too. He got some great shots.”
“These are really appropriate for your house. They have you written all over them.”
“Thanks, that’s because they are me. Normally I wouldn’t put pictures of myself on a big, plain wall in the living room, but I want Mark to know how much I appreciate them, and his mom and dad will like seeing his work when they visit.”
He examined them more carefully.
“Well I’ll be, they are pictures of you. How did you meet Mark Mireau?”
“When I went to Santa Cruz Island?”
“Yeah?”
“I was looking for Mark. He took these pictures while we were there and gave these to me as a thank you gift.”
“Do you realize how much these are worth? People would pay a mint to have a one of a kind picture from his camera.”
“I don’t value a gift in dollars. I value the intent of the gift. There’s a picture of Mark with a handwritten note on the back that makes the intent very clear. I took the picture of him when we were camped out waiting for the next boat home. It’s kind of cool, it shows him just as he really was, injured, dirty and scruffy. I wish that picture didn’t have to face the wall all the time.”
I took the print down and showed Landon the picture and inscription.
“So, you rescued a celebrity!”
“He isn’t a celebrity, he’s just a friend. My neighbor’s son.”
“Maybe to you.”
“Landon, I don’t think of people that way. He’s just a man who needed to be found. I would have done the same for anyone else. And I didn’t ask for this gift. I was dumbfounded when he gave it to me, but I would have felt the same if a five-year-old had given me a crayon drawing for my fridge.”
“I know. That’s one of the things I like about you.”
The next few days were calm, peaceful, and irritating. I began pacing the house, weeding the yards, planting fall flowers in the containers on the front porch, gazing out at the hills, and planning woodworking projects. I went to the home improvement store and bought more wood, screws, and nails. I measured and cut the pieces for a new agility obstacle, the dog walk. It consisted of a raised narrow walkway with ramps going up and down. We had tackled the jumps and the A-frame. I thought it was time for something new and Shadow was ready for some real instruction. The challenge would be in training him to walk the plank while he could see the ground below. So far Shadow wasn’t comfortable with a drop off. The A-frame was wide and sturdy and Shadow had adapted to its height. The dog walk would be different. It was narrow and flexed a little. Agility training involved exposing the dog to new things and encouraging him to focus and think.
In order to train Shadow to think I needed to build the course first. I enjoyed working with my hands, and building stuff, but the logic behind some of the construction didn’t come naturally to me. I measured twice and cut once. Well, if I measured right twice I should only have to cut once. Sometimes when starting to put things together I realized that it was necessary to cut twice, but despite any setbacks the obstacles would eventually get built.
I laid the strip of plywood on the floor of the barn and lined up the two by fours that would support it and make it sturdy. I drilled screw holes and began attaching the boards. I really need to buy an electric screwdriver one of these days, I thought. Kneeling over the boards and twisting away at the screws I noticed a movement in the yard. I froze. Movement was okay, it could be Shadow or possibly a deer. I hadn’t been working with power tools or making much noise, so the movement could have been a deer. I hoped it was a deer, but it wasn’t. A deer wouldn’t go towards the house. I flattened myself against the dark wall of the barn and made my way out the back door and into the junipers behind the house. I moved from tree to tree until I had worked my way to the side of the house. I watched as a man walked around the house looking, for what I didn’t know. He went in the barn, came out and examined the hills. He went to the back door, opened it and entered. Just thinking about him walking around inside my home was giving me the creeps. I wasn’t armed and didn’t have my cell phone, so it was better to remain in the trees. My anger grew. I found a vantage point from where I could see both the front and back doors, and remained hidden until the man left. After I saw him leave and drive away I went into the house. Our home had been searched, but nothing appeared to be missing. Even my gun, which had a blazing sign on it that screamed “steal me,” was still there. I called Rusty.
“Hey,” he said after the second ring. “What’s up?”
“We had a visitor today. I was in the barn and he was looking around the outside of the house so I slipped into the trees and hid. When he thought no one was home he went in through the back door and searched the house. I can’t find anything missing. I don’t know what he was after or if you can pin anything on him. I just thought you should know.”
There was a long pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I didn’t go near the house until I saw him drive away. He didn’t know I was here.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For staying away from the house. I know you were tempted to confront him but I’m glad you didn’t. Was it the same guy?”
“Yeah, what’s his name? I’m sure they got his name when they took him in for questioning. Despite insisting he is so friendly, he still hasn’t told me his name.”
“Teague Stern”
“Does he have a record?”
“He’s a troublemaker but so far he’s only been charged with misdemeanors. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t done this before. It just means he has never been caught.”
“I think I’ll pay Hazel a visit. If anybody would know the comings and goings in this neighborhood it would be her. I need to ask her if there’s any point in hanging around for Halloween, too. With a quarter mile walk from house to house I doubt there are many trick or treaters on our street.”
“Oh! If it isn’t my most favorite neighbor in the whole world!” Hazel squealed as she dragged me into her house. Guess my status rose a notch with Mark’s safe return.
We visited, catching up on the news. Mark was at home recuperating and putting together an article about the Island Fox. He’d already received an offer from a travel magazine for an article about the Channel Islands, but had turned it down until he could visit the other islands. He was aiming for an article in a wildlife publication, preferring to protect the wildlife rather than send scores of tourists there to encroach on it.
After the conversation with Hazel had died down a little, which took some time, I approached the topic I’d actually come over to discuss.
“Have you had any trouble with prowlers in this neighborhood?” I asked.
“Oh… no! Have you?” she asked, clearly distressed with the idea.
“A little,” I confessed. “You haven’t seen anybody driving up and down the street keeping an eye on the houses, watching to see if someone is home?”
“I barely see the road from my front window,” she pointed out. “I wouldn’t notice something like that.”
An idea came to me. “Do you mind if I walk around your house? If he came to your house too, then there would be footprints all over the place. I’d be able to tell if someone was prowling around out there recently.”
“Oh dear, please do! If someone has been here I certainly want to know about it!”
We went outside and I looked at the ground around the house. Hazel followed, watching me with interest.
“What can you possibly see down there? It’s just dirt.”
“It’s not just dirt to me. It’s information. I don’t see anything that looks suspicious. Wally was walking around in the backyard this morning. He stubbed his toe on the barbecue grill, then got mad and kicked it. I hope his foot feels better now.”
“How did you know that?” she asked, incredulous.
“I can see what happened in the dirt. See his footprints leading up to the barbecue? This scrape mark here shows how the wheel slid on impact and then the footprints get all screwy because he was walking off the pain and then there’s another scrape mark where the barbecue grill scoots in the other direction. He shouldn’t have kicked it. Now I bet he has more than one sore toe.”
“That’s amazing. How do you do that? That’s precisely what happened.”
“I’ve been studying tracks since I was a little kid, it’s just what I do. I don’t see any footprints of prowlers though. That’s good. You don’t know of any troublemakers in the area?”
“Oh, these neighborhoods off from town always get their share of wild teenagers. They get bored out here with no access to friends, and a long drive to town. Then boredom turns to mischief.”
“What kind of mischief?”
“Have you noticed the street signs out here all have bullet holes? Kids run around with guns and shoot things, usually harmless things. If you value your house you will post no hunting signs around your property.”
“Do you know of any specific kids that were particularly violent or acted odder than the rest?”
“Yes there was one, but I don’t know who he was. He was mean to animals. He wouldn’t just hunt them, he hurt them. He had a cruel streak. When he was a teenager he got kicked out of his house and I don’t know whatever happened to him. He had a weird name, not John or Tom or Greg. It wasn’t a name I’d heard before. Now that’s going to drive me nuts until I think of what it was! I hate when that happens. Wally!” she called across the house. “What was that mean kid’s name, the one who pulled wings off flies and tried to shave the Axtell’s cat?”
“How should I know? I’m not the nosey neighbor! You’re nosey enough for both of us!” Wally yelled back.
“Was it Teague?” I asked.
“That’s it!” she beamed. “I sure am glad you thought of it so I wouldn’t have to wrack my brain for the next week! But how would you know?”
“We’ve met. He tried to force his way into my house and I called the police on him.”
“Oh dear, he wouldn’t like that, and you don’t want to make him mad. He’s got an awful temper. He could be as sweet as could be and would volunteer for odd jobs around the neighborhood, but while he was doing them things would disappear. If he was pet sitting, the animal would die of some mysterious cause. It happened so seldom, and to different people, so nobody really connected it to him. But I tell you we wouldn’t let him take care of our pets. No siree!”
This did not bode well for me, I thought. We visited a little longer and Hazel confirmed there wouldn’t be any trick or treaters at our door this year.
“The few families with kids take them into town to a church carnival or they go trick or treating in neighborhoods where the houses are easier to get to. You won’t get anyone at your door unless you personally know a family with kids. Then they might stop by on their way into town.”
It took me over an hour to make my way out of Hazel and Wally’s house. I almost felt trapped by hospitality but eventually I broke free and walked home.
It was a quiet evening and I was deep in thought. Rusty watched me, aware that it might not be wise to let me think for too long. Put too many puzzle pieces together and I was likely to do something rash. I made dinner in a distracted manner then picked at the food on my plate. Eating was usually not very high on my list of priorities and it didn’t take much to bump food off the list completely.
After dinner I puttered around the house then went outside to look at the tracks Stern had left behind. I studied them, wanting to be able to recognize his tracks if I ever saw them again. They were boots of some kind but not cowboy boots. They had a more rounded toe and a wider rounded heel. Not work boots, the tread was too smooth. Not a hiking boot. I followed the footprints letting Stern’s little quirks and mannerisms sink into my memory. I found quirks and mannerisms were more of a subconscious thing. They would surface when something matched up but I didn’t really think about them as I tracked. When Rusty asked me to profile while tracking I always had a steady stream of ideas about the person, never really knowing where those ideas came from, and they usually turned out to be true. I had circled the house, noting that Stern had been here more than once, had looked in all the windows more than once, had spent an unusual amount of time outside the bay window in the bedroom. Rusty stood on the back patio watching me.
“Learn anything?” he asked.
“Yeah, I learned that I don’t want to have anything to do with this guy.”
“Tell me about it.”
So I told him about the tracks and I told him about what I’d learned at Hazel and Wally’s. He stood there, hands in pockets, grimfaced.
“And Hazel recognized the name, Teague Stern?”
“Right, the neighborhood troublemaker kid who steals stuff and makes pets mysteriously disappear.”
“Only now he’s turned into a dangerous troublemaker grownup.”