Slow Dancing Read Free Page A

her little tent there with friends each summer, a perfect, quiet place away from the adults to play Barbie. Now, not so sure, she didn’t think she’d feel safe out after dark ever again.
    “I wish we could put up a fence,” she said. He looked over to her, nodding her head.
    “Haft’ to be awful high though,” he said. “Haft’ to have barbed wire on top. When it gets that bad here, we best move away.”
    “This is it,” she said when they reached the area. “I think this is where he stood.” They were careful not to step off the lawn, because clearly, right under the big pine, a line of large footprints were visible in the sand, the edge just beginning to be lapped up by the water as the gentle tide came in. It looked like whoever it was had walked along the water’s edge, to avoid the forest.
    “Where did he come from?”
    “I’m going to call the sheriff before we do anything else,” Frank said. He wanted to follow the footprints, to discover their origin. He looked up across the river at the opposing bank. It was desolate across the river, directly in front of their place; there were more cottages upriver, less down. The woods were thicker on the other side, the current was swift, and there was no dock or place to tie up unless the boater used a tree. He doubted whoever it was came from across the way, but crept along the river’s edge from the same side.
    “You go on now, find something to do. I don’t want my conversation upsettin’ you,” he said when they got to the house. She smiled at him, but didn’t argue. It was making her queasy, the thought that her imagination wasn’t playing tricks. A stranger possibly wanting to do her harm had taken the trouble to make his way along the desolate coastline to spy on her.
    “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go read awhile.” He nodded at her and waited until she was out of sight to call the sheriff. Well known in the county as a reliable and trustworthy auto mechanic, Frank did the work the county needed on many of their patrol cars. So when he called with a dilemma, they took him seriously. It was the first time he’d needed to call in years, since Margaret disappeared into the woods one day ten years ago.
     
    ***
     
    The three of them, five year old Ellen included, were in the yard puttering, watering the roses and pulling weeds. When Frank stood up, Ellen was beside him but Margaret was gone, the hose with the precious water still running left on the ground. He looked in the house and then taking Ellen by the hand, walked to the river’s edge, just in case. It didn’t look like she’d gone for a dip, so they proceeded to the woods. Holding Ellen’s hand, they walked as far as they could into the forest, until the trees grew so close together he couldn’t get between them.
    “Okay, I guess she’s not in here,” he said, smiling down at Ellen, not wanting to scare her. “Let’s git’ back to the house and make a few calls. Maybe she went to see her friend, Mary.”
    “Momma doesn’t like Mary,” Ellen said, frowning. This was news to Frank.
    “No? Why’d you say that?”
    “She said Mary got the cooties,” Ellen said, obviously repeating what she’d heard Margaret say. Frank turned away, frowning. Margaret’s use of the word cootie to her five-year-old daughter transcended inappropriateness in spite of its truthfulness; he tended to agree with his wife.
    “Oh, well maybe momma didn’t feel good when she said it,” Frank explained making an excuse for her. He was going to call Mary regardless. He reached out for Ellen’s hand. “Come on, sister, let’s get inside.” Then, on second thought, he reached down and scooped her up. She yelped with glee.
    When they got inside the house, he put her down. “Run along now, darlin’, go on and play for a while.” She did as she was told and ran off to her room. He picked up the kitchen phone and dialed the sheriff’s office.
    “Boyd here,” Boyd Dalton said when he answered the