BARE HUNTER

***

TED

“Doug? Thank God. What made you come here looking for Timmy?”

“I didn’t buy your bad dream story. Something was up. I figured someone took him to blackmail you. I was right. Look, I gotta pour a foundation tomorrow morning. My gun isn’t exactly legal. How about I do a free disposal for you, instead of calling the cops?”

“Sounds like the funeral he deserves,” I said, pulling a sobbing, shaking Timster out of the bag, and holding him tightly to my chest, despite the growing stench. Poor kid.

“Why don’t you clean the Timster up and I’ll get him back home before Sandy wakes up,” Doug suggested.

“How do we explain this?”

“Explain what? Like father like son. Timmy had a terrible nightmare, and I took him to see his Daddy. I’ll bring my truck in the morning to pick up the trash.”

I carried Timmy to the bathroom and decided he needed a shower instead of a bath. He asked who the bad man was, and I said, “Bad man?”

“Yeah, Daddy, the man who put me in that stinky bag.”

“Timmy, you had a bad dream, that’s all. I’ve got you, kiddo. Doug the Builder is here. You’re safe now, okay?”

I was drying him off after the shower and putting one of my t-shirts on him, after deciding to throw out his dirty pajamas, when he hugged me around the neck and said, “You’re my special hero, Daddy. I knew you’d protec me.”

“Always, little man. Always,” and handing him off to Doug, who I knew would keep him safe.

Doug gave me his cell number and reminded me to call him whenever I had a bad night, “I lost a brother because I didn’t listen all the time when I should have. I don’t want to lose you, man. I think tonight makes us brothers.”

I shook his hand and slapped his shoulder because I didn’t trust my voice. After they left, I pulled out my laptop and began a serious job search. No way was I going back into that jinxed office when Doc Carpenter released me. Brewing a pot of coffee, I sat and thought about the month that almost destroyed me and took my son. All for power and money. Neither side was innocent in this. Both the General and Tom Murray had money to make by making my life hell. Tom Murray hadn’t broken any laws, but I’d never trust him again.

At seven o’clock, I called Sharon to ask if she would clean out my desk for me. “Hey, you. Had a terrible night.”

“Oh, God, Ted. It’s so good to hear your voice. I had an awful one too, and barely got any sleep.”

“You should have called,” I gently admonished.

“No, I was a mess. I’m going back for more therapy sessions next week. I already left a voicemail with my doctor.”

“Sharon, you don’t have to go through this alone, you know. I can’t fix your problems, but I can be here and listen. You are the only good thing that’s happened in my life this past month.”

“Really?

“Really.”

“Well, that’s good because I have a new project and I’m going to need help. I couldn’t get back to sleep this morning, so I wrote up plans for a raised bed rose and daisy garden. How are you at shoveling dirt and building stone walls? I have it all designed, and I’ve already dug the base for it.”

“Wow. In the middle of the night?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so why not?”

“Next time you can’t sleep, come over here and help me clean my house,” I joked. “I would love to help you finish it.”

“Great, I’ll order a yard of topsoil and buy some paving stones at the garden center today after work. How many yards of topsoil will I need for a six-foot-deep bed? It’s about four feet wide by ten- feet long.”

“I'm not the one to ask. I’m sure the garden center can help you calculate that. By the way, I’m looking for a new job. I can’t go back there. Things have been so crazy. If I want to feel better, I need a fresh start at a new company. I hope we can still see each other?”

“Don’t be silly, Ted. I don’t care where you work. If a new job will help, go for it. Can you come by after I get done at the office today?

“Sure. Should I bring a shovel?”

“Nope. I have two and I’ll share. I’ll grab your things from the office and bring them home with me.”

“That would be great. Here’s to new beginnings.”

“Amen. I sort of feel like a super-woman today. I’m not afraid of Lloyd anymore. I think I can handle him.”

“That’s good. What changed?”

“The dream I had last night.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around,” I said.

EPILOGUE:

When the dust of the recent calamities had settled, Phyllis was released from the hospital and went to a rehabilitation center to regain the use of her broken jaw and damaged mouth, which required extensive surgeries. When questioned by the police about her near-death encounter, she identified Fred and Donnie as her attackers. She also told the police they had confessed to her about two other women.

Sadly, Becca was one of their victims, leaving a hole in her parents’ hearts. With Phyllis’s help, I was not a suspect. After a thorough search, I collected a dozen different speakers and bugs from my apartment, which explained the voices I heard at night.

Greg's lifeless body was found the morning after his run-in with Fred and Donnie and the van. Upon inspection, the police found his hair and blood on the van's front bumper. The two electronic "experts" bodies were found and immediately connected with the General's boys from Philly.

Timmy only recalls a very bad dream that seemed like it was real. Doug assured Sandy he had slept on Timmy's floor near his bed that night, to help him get back to sleep. Also, Doug, true to his word, returned with his work truck the morning after all our excitement. We hefted the plastic garbage bag containing the old man's body into the bed. Doug poured the foundation of the building by himself, burying General Howard and his dirty secrets under several tons of concrete.

FINAL SCENE:

"Over here, Ted. Can you spread the dirt on this spot for me?" Sharon asked, dressed in a pair of short shorts and a skimpy top.

"As long as you promise to dress like that every day, I'll do whatever you tell me," I joked. She began the landscaping job by herself, having piled the paving stones in a haphazard, trendy-looking wall surrounding her new garden. She had ordered two loads of topsoil, which I thought was too much. But, hey, it was her house and her project.

"I've got pork ribs in the fridge. Hope you like bar-b-que ribs with corn on the cob, mac and cheese, and beer," she offered.

“You are magic. You know that? You can do anything."

"Thanks, Ted. I'm going to miss you at work. It won't be the same there without you, Phyllis, and Greg. Can you believe those men killed Greg?"

"I'm hoping they both are long gone," I said, knowing that one of them was definitely gone, until this summer when some unsuspecting hiker stumbled over his rotting bones.

As I was smoothing out the topsoil, getting ready to pour mulch over it, I tripped over something sticking up from the soil. Looking down I could barely read the word, “F U C K" tattooed in prison blue ink on muddied, gray knuckles.

Sharon had gone inside to work on dinner. I looked over my shoulder for witnesses, then jammed my shovel hard on the errant hand to shove it back under the dirt.

When Sharon returned with a pitcher of lemonade for us, I said, "Hun, I think you're gonna need more topsoil."