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the lad. It was a fact of life for a man who had too many things to do and not enough hours in which to do them. |
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"Like father, like son," Jeff Freeman said. "I've been following the progress of the storm. The more I listened, the more I got to thinking I'd better come down and see if Dad needed some help; figured he'd have his hands full. Have you seen him?" |
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Gleason shook his head. "Not since the day the storm hit." He hoped the young man didn't detect the despair in his voice. |
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Jeff Freeman's mobile face easily slipped into a frown. "Well, when we're done here, I'll just have to see if I can scout him out." |
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They had just emerged from the twilight world between the dunes when Gleason spotted the hunched silhouette of Merle Chesterton hunkered down beside a pile of debris. A group of men had gathered around him. The deputy was motioning to him. |
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It didn't take him long to see what Merle wanted him to see. A bloated, discolored arm protruded from a pile of damp trash and broken boards. |
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Chesterton pointed down. Gleason peered back into the rubble and saw two legs intertwined and twisted through the heavy plank boards that constituted a portion of the old stairs leading up to the second level. Red felt his heart stutter a beat. It was exactly what he |
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