Where do kids go to get drunk in this town?

Erin wrote back: The creek. Drive out Mystic Creek Lane and take every road to the left. You can tell if it leads to a house. There’ll be a mailbox. All other roads go to water. Kids go there to avoid being caught in possession.

Wyatt fastened his seat belt and felt his phone vibrate again. He got it out of his pocket and saw that Erin had added: We’ll be combing the same area soon. Scrambling at moment. Arranged emergency transport for girl. Sending to Crystal Falls. Dealing with crime scene now and questioning all kids here.

Wyatt knew things were probably crazy at Erin’s end, and he was glad to know the authorities would soon launch a full-blown search for the Sorensen kid, undoubtedly their prime suspect. Wyatt only hoped he could find Kennedy before he did something crazy that could land him in jail.

Instead of driving around town, which probably would be a waste of time, Wyatt headed toward the north side and turned onto Mystic Creek Lane. Erin had it right. This was an area where kids could hide. Pines so thick he couldn’t see through them. Dirt roads that had been driven during the winter to create ruts that had now hardened like cement. Definitely not inviting, not even to cops.

The first road Wyatt drove down ended at the creek, but there were no vehicles parked near the water and he saw no sign of kids. So he went back out to the main road and took the next left without a mailbox. Again, he found nothing. He’d searched five creek-side spots and was starting to worry he wouldn’t find Kennedy when he finally hit pay dirt. As he bumped his way down the sixth road, he glimpsed a blue vehicle through the trees. Kennedy’s pickup was blue. A second later Wyatt saw a refurbished red-and-white Chevy. He floorboarded the accelerator, pushing his truck to such a high speed that it bounced and went airborne over the ruts. When he entered the clearing by the stream, he slammed on the brakes and put the vehicle into a sideways skid.

Kennedy and a kid built like a brick shithouse were squared off with their fists raised, but Wyatt’s unexpected appearance and the cloud of dust sent up by the truck tires startled them both enough to make them look at Wyatt instead of each other.

Wyatt leaped out of the vehicle. “Kennedy, let the law handle this! It’s not your place!”

Kennedy gave Wyatt a wild-eyed glare. “You didn’t see what they did to her! By God, I’m going to kill the little fucker!”

Wyatt held up his phone and dialed 911. He watched the screen to see when the dispatcher answered the call. “My name is Wyatt Fitzgerald. I’m deaf and can hear nothing you say to me. The young man who raped and beat the Johnson girl is hiding out off of Mystic Creek Lane down by the creek. Send officers to the scene. Tell them it’s the sixth road south of the north end.”