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stolid stare. “I’ve got my gun.”
    Nicholas shook his head, but Tucker kicked open his door and hopped out of the truck.
    The farmer walked to the shoulder of the road and reloaded his Remington. He pulled the forend with a sharp click as he edged closer to the forest. Nicholas skidded across the leather seat, pulled the driver’s side door shut, and rolled up its window with a few quick jerks of the manual handle.
    The dense woods obscured Tucker’s reassuring presence, and Ben did not realize that he had been holding his breath until Nicholas said, “ Breathe , Ben. Jeez.”
    Ben’s eyes danced from the tree line to Nicholas, and he was ready to shoot his best friend a glare, but Nicholas looked as frightened as Ben felt. Ben took a deep breath when Tucker completely disappeared from viewpoint.
    “Crazy fool,” Nicholas said.
    “Crazy fool saved our lives,” Ben replied.
    They sat side-by-side for what seemed like a small eternity. It was too early for most cars to be on the road this far out of town, and the forest itself was still and silent. Ben managed to gain some control over himself, and he was pleased that Nicholas had stopped giving him cautious, worried little glances while they waited for Tucker to return.
    “What if he doesn’t come back?” Nicholas asked in a hushed, hurried whisper to give voice to the fear that Ben knew they had both entertained since Tucker first disappeared into the forest.
    “He will,” Ben said. “He’ll come back.”
    Ben did not know why he felt so sure of this; he barely knew Tucker to speak of him, but something about the sight of the man poised on the hood of his pickup truck with a shotgun at the ready inspired a certain amount of confidence.
    Still, Ben reached up and took hold of the arrowhead he wore on a leather cord around his neck. Nicholas had given it to him as a birthday gift the previous October. Ben had first spotted the artifact in Marietta Abernathy’s Antiques Shop on Main Street a few weeks before Nicholas presented it to him with a wide smile. The arrowhead was flat and smooth save for a small carving of the famous Shawnee Chief Tecumseh’s head on the front side.
    Abernathy was known throughout Point Pleasant for her eerie but accurate palm readings, which she provided in the back room of her shop. The woman had insisted the arrowhead was special. “It will keep you safe.”
    Ben hoped she was right.
    Nicholas noticed that Ben was clutching the arrowhead in his palm. He regarded Ben for a moment and then whispered, “Wiseass.”
    He had knighted Ben with the term earlier that summer and had taken to using it whenever Ben was especially ridiculous. As Nicholas spoke the word to fill the stifling silence of Tucker’s truck, his tone lacked the usual reprimanding edge. Ben felt almost comforted.
    “Boy Scout,” Ben returned, his voice just as gentle.
    Tucker reappeared ten minutes later with only his shotgun and a mystified expression. “I shot it,” he said as he pulled the driver’s side door shut after he climbed in behind the steering wheel. “I shot it in the damn wing, I don’t see that it would have gotten far.”
    “It was fast,” Nicholas told Tucker.
    “Really fast,” Ben agreed.
    Tucker started the engine. “Big too,” he said as he assessed the forest a final time before he pulled the truck around in a U-turn.
    True to his earlier comment, he did not seem to want to know why the two boys had been alone in the woods. Ben reckoned Tucker understood their curiosity over the recent reports. The three of them spent the ride back to town entrenched in tense silence.
    As they neared Main Street, Nicholas spoke up. “Are you taking us to the Sheriff’s Department?” he asked Tucker, who fixed them with a wary gaze.
    “Was gonna,” Tucker replied. “Your daddy ought to be there, I expect.”
    Nicholas’ eyes widened at the mention of his father, but he nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    Dread settled in Ben’s chest. They would