Today I drove around town all morning, out to the Tonk and a few other places I knew you could get a drink. Nobody had seen Bob or any of the Yellow Bastards all morning. I even sat at the library until it got dark in case Chuck and Punkboy came back for the computers. Nothing.
I wanted to take the map and go out there, but decided to call the cops instead. Like Jessie said, I did not have much to go on and they pushed me aside. Even a missing persons could not really be filed because Bob was not someone I saw everyday. Detective Gerald Parkman brushed me aside, gave me to some kid who took down my information.
About an hour ago I got back home and cooked a pizza. While I was waiting on the oven, Mom called.
“Hey, baby, what you up to?” she said.
“Trying not to burn down your house,” I said and peered in the oven.
“You better not. Your daddy’s almost got the place payed off. So what you know good?”
I ran through the situation with Bob and the Yellow Bastards, about the conversation I heard where it sounded like they were gonna hurt him.
“He the one with the sister?”
“I don’t think so. Do you know anything about this group?”
“The Yellow B-words? Useless group of fools. Went around town last August taking things from cars outside peoples houses. Then they started going into the houses! Marjorie Franklin, down the street, she said she was getting groceries from her house and two of those mustard wearing punks came running out of her house. Was just out there for a minute and they went in and took her television and her Elvis plates.”
“So not dangerous then?”
Mom snorted through the phone to me, “I’ve watched that town for forty years, Evan. The only thing I know is that if you go out in them woods where there’s those meth houses or whatever, anybody can get dangerous. Those kids were hungry and dumb. Bad combination that might find them lost.”
“I’m sorry I can’t help more. Don’t remember this Bob character. Simmons? No, he must not have been one of the readers.”
“Yeah, don’t think he was. His granny was a Henderson? I have her number.”
“I just don’t know, Evan. Go to the church tomorrow, like you said. Either way, it’ll do you good even if it is Methodist.”
We talked for a bit longer and I did burn the pizza. Said goodbye to mom while waving smoke out of the window.
“Don’t burn down the house, boy,” mom said and we hung up.
I threw out the black brick of carbon the pizza had become and set my alarm for early. I had church in the morning.