LITMIR.BIZ

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for Todd to start working with, the others to be decided upon later. She went back to resume reading the diaries in her sitting room, and Todd went to work on the pictures.

      She was so young, Todd was thinking a few minutes later, working on the photograph of Janey with Mike Hilliard and Joe Warden. Her hair was parted in the middle, drawn back, probably in a bun; her hands were clasped before her. Standing between the two men, she looked diminutive, frail and frightened. Todd remembered what Johnny had said about the runaways—what was there in Brindle for kids to do? What had there been for Janey? Sixteen, with an infant, in a wilderness, alone with two much older men who both looked stern and rough, staring at the camera as if it were the enemy.

      Todd was working on the picture with the school children when Ruth Ann reappeared from her sitting room, yawning.

      “I fell asleep,” she said. “Bad poetry put me to sleep. Todd, stop for the day. You’ve been at it for hours.”

      “Let me show you what I have,” Todd said. “Here’s the photo of Janey with her husband and Warden.”

      Ruth Ann studied the printout, then nodded. “I think she had a dimple,” she said.

      “I think so, too. She was only a kid, almost a child herself.”

      Ruth Ann put the printout down and shook her head. “From all accounts she was a prostitute,” she said. “They started a cathouse in Warden’s Place, and it seems she was a working girl there. It was rumored that she was carrying on with a customer when her daughter drowned in Brindle Creek.”

      Todd stared at her, then at the printout. How could she have left a two-year-old child alone by that ice-cold water? “Is that what you’re going to write about?”

      “Only if I can verify it. You young people don’t know what real censorship is these days. No one, to my knowledge, has ever openly talked about what really went on in the early years. Mothers whispered things to daughters or to each other. Not outright. Coded. They invented coded language. Men, no doubt, talked among themselves, told things to their sons perhaps. Whispers. Innuendos. Hints. Sex was the ultimate dirty word, one that no decent person uttered. I think it’s time this town learned the truth about Warden and the Hilliards.”

      “Why?” Todd said. “It’s a hundred-year-old scandal. Why rake it through the ashes now?”

      Ruth Ann’s expression had become as grim as those in the photographs. “Every few years someone brings up the idea of a monument to our founders,” she said. “Grace Rawleigh is pushing for it and this year, the year of the centennial, she intends to force it through. She can afford it, but she intends for the town to foot the bill. I intend to stop that. This town needs a lot of things, and a monument in the park to feed Grace’s ego isn’t one of them.”

      “A youth center,” Todd said. “That’s what the town needs. Did you hear about Jodie Schuster? A runaway girl?”

      “Yes. Maria told me.”

      “Do you know anything about her? How old she is, when she took off? Anything?”

      “She’s fourteen,” Ruth Ann said. “Her mother’s a nurse at the hospital in Bend. She left Jodie and her two little brothers at home when she went to work on Thursday morning at six-thirty. Jodie gets the boys off on their bikes at about seven-thirty, and then she walks down to catch the school bus. That morning she didn’t get on the bus, and no one has seen her since.”

      Only fourteen! Todd thought in wonder and dismay. She hesitated a moment, then said, “Whose permission do I need to run a series of editorials about runaway children, youth centers, things of that sort? Yours or Johnny’s?”

      “I’m still the publisher,” Ruth Ann said sharply. “Do it.” She started to gather the photographs together, then added, “Don’t count on any of the council members for cooperation, not Ollie Briscoe, and probably not Johnny. They all would cage the devil and put him on display if they thought it would bring in a tourist dollar.”

      

      Todd walked home deep in thought. Seth, she decided. If she could talk him into helping her find local information, that would be step one. She couldn’t use only national statistics, she had to tie her editorials to the local community, to these people here and their runaway kids. She got her Acura out and drove to Safeway. It was five minutes before six and she knew that Jan got off at six on Saturdays.

      She parked, then waited until a minute or two after six before leaving her car as Jan was coming out of the store.

      “Too late,” Jan said as Todd approached. “We’re closed.”

      “I was really looking for you,” Todd said. “I wanted to ask you and Seth to come to dinner tomorrow night.”

      Jan’s smile vanished and she said in exasperation, “Wouldn’t you know it. Nothing happens all the time and when it does, it’s all at once. We have pals coming through tomorrow on their way to Vegas for a vacation. How about a rain check? And a cup of coffee with me right now? I’m heading for the Terrace Café for some coffee, or maybe a glass of wine, to wait for Seth. He’s still at the station. When he comes we’re off to Bend, have a bite to eat, and see a movie. Our big night on the town.”

      Perfect, Todd thought in satisfaction. She couldn’t have arranged things better. They walked to the motel café with Jan chatting about her friends from Portland. They were both sipping chardonnay when Seth joined them.

      The waitress was at his heels. He ordered a draft beer and sat next to Jan in the booth. “How are things?” he asked Todd.

      “Pretty quiet,” she said. “Any news about Jodie Schuster?”

      He shook his head. “The chief said I’m not to talk to you about that.”

      “I know. He gave me the bum’s rush when I asked him about her. What do teenagers do around here for fun? You guys can take off to see a movie, but what about kids too young to drive? What do they do?”

      “They drive,” Seth said. “Pile in one of their dad’s trucks, take shotguns out on the desert and shoot jack rabbits or coyotes. Sheriff business,” he added. He sounded bitter and defensive.

      The waitress brought his beer and after she left, Jan said, “I’ve heard that years ago, when Lisa was home on a visit, she was full of ideas about building a theater here, to show first-run movies and have a film festival every summer. Like Sundance. I wish she’d done it. Going up to Bend to see a show is a drag, and like you said, the young kids can’t do it alone.”

      Todd told them about her plan to try to raise interest in a youth center. “I’d need local stuff. You know, the kids who have taken off from here, their families. Like that,” she said. “Ollie won’t give me the time of day, but, Seth, you could help.”

      His big open face took on a blank expression.

      “What I want,” Todd said, “is a list of the runaway kids over the past ten to fifteen years. Names, how old they were, how the cases were resolved. I won’t use names, but I’d try to interview some of them who have come back, get their side of the story. Why they took off, things of that sort. It isn’t just about Jodie. It’s runaways in general.”

      He shook his head. “No can do. Not without authority, which I have as much chance of getting as a snowball in you know where.”

      “Yes, you can,” Jan said, leaning forward. “You’re alone in the station half the time. There’s a copy machine. Take out a file, make a copy, put it back. You don’t even have to hand anything over to Todd. I’d do that.”

      “I can’t be forced to reveal any source of information,” Todd said. “Unwritten law of journalism. Confidentiality of sources. Holy writ or something.”

      Even as Seth began to shake his head again, Jan said fiercely, “God, it’s a chance to shake up these zombies. It’s like being in a town of Stepford people, men and women, all Stepford zombies.”

      “We

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