Play dead

THIRTY-FIVE

Swann sat on the park bench. It was a glorious morning. He nibbled on a raspberry scone he had purchased from a new bakery on Pine Street.

Across his knees was a metal detector, a Bounty Hunter Tracker II.

He watched them for the better part of an hour. Five teenagers, a strange number for many reasons. Two boys and three girls. At this age, there was always a peculiar dynamic at play with an odd number. Loud, physical, bounding with energy, they challenged each other. There would always be a hierarchy established at times like this, a ladder based on the reason they had assembled in the first place. Later on it would be money and power and position. But in Swann's experience, at this age, it was usually beauty and strength that won the day.

Their vehicle was a red minivan, doors open, music playing at a respectful level. They teased for a while, shared cigarettes and soda. Eventually watches were consulted, goodbyes uttered, trash thrown into receptacles.

When the van left, it was as he expected. One girl was left behind. To his eyes she was by far the prettiest, but she did not belong to this group for other reasons. She was clearly a stray.

As the van rounded a bend, the girl waved, tossed a finger, a smile. But Swann could see desolation in her smile. Alone now, the girl drank from her water bottle, even though she knew it was empty. Girls her age often repeated tasks like that. The energy had to go somewhere.

Swann got up from the bench, turned on the detector. It was showtime. He walked along the side of the road, brow furrowed, deep in concentration. When he positioned himself about twenty yards behind the girl, the detector alerted him. She heard, turned to watch.

"Yes!" he exclaimed loud enough for the girl to hear. "Oh yes, yes, yes."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her considering him. Who was this strange man with this strange machine? Her teenage curiosity could not resist.

"Did you find something?" she asked.

He looked up, around, as if trying to determine from where the voice had come. He found her, pointed to the ground near his feet. "Eureka!"

Swann bent over, picked up a necklace. The necklace was cheap gold. It had been palmed in his hand the whole time. "I struck gold!"

He held it up. The necklace glittered in the morning sun. The girl got up to take a closer look. They always did.

"Oh man. Sweet," she said. "Very cool." Her eyes went from the necklace to the emblem on his jumpsuit. The patch looked official, as if he were part of the park service. Closer scrutiny would reveal nothing of the kind.

"You didn't lose this by any chance, did you?" he asked, slight disappointment edging his voice.

The girl hesitated for a moment-Swann would have been deeply disappointed if she had not, the longer she hesitated the longer she had been on the road-then shook her head. "No. I wish. It's really nice."

Swann put the necklace into his bag. "You'd be amazed what I've been able to find over the years."

"I'll bet." She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets. She wanted to talk. She was lonely. "What kinds of stuff?"

"Gosh, let's see. Rings, bracelets, coins, barrettes. Lots and lots of barrettes."

The girl laughed. "Kids."

"Tell me about it. I buy my daughters barrettes by the case. They are always losing them." He turned off the machine. "My name's Ludo, by the way."

"Ludo? Cool name. Mine's Claire." They shook hands. He did not remove his gloves. "Do you work here?" she asked.

"As little as possible."

The girl laughed again. Swann turned the machine back on, stepped away, then stepped back. "Want to try?"

The girl shook her head. Shy now. "I don't think I'd be any good at it."

"Sure you would. Of course you would. There's really nothing to it. If I can do it, you can do it."

"You think?"

"Absolutely. And I'll tell you what."

"What?"

"Whatever you find you can keep."

Her eyes lit up. It was like the best offer she'd ever had. "For real?"

Swann gave her a brief demonstration. She took the detector from him.

"Try near the entrance to the path," he said, pointing to the asphalt-paved lane leading into the forest of trees. "A lot of times people will pull things out of their pockets right there-sweatbands, sunglasses, mosquito spray-and things can fly out and get lost in the leaves. It can be a real gold mine."

"Okay. I don't know. I'm not really… okay." The girl began to scan where he told her to look. She waved the machine back and forth, back and forth, like a divining rod, settling the weight.

"A little slower," he said.

"Okay."

Left, left, left, Swann thought. Stop.

"Right around here?"

"Yes."

More to the left. Stop. Right. Stop.

The machine beeped.

Yes.

"Hey! I think I found something! Does this mean I found something?" she asked.

"It does indeed."

"What do I do?"

"I'll show you."

She modeled the bangle. "So this is really mine?"

"Finders, keepers."

The paste jewelry sparkled in the sun. To the girl, it was a Tiffany tennis bracelet.

He glanced at his watch. "Well, I've got to get back to work. They only let me do this on my break. It was nice to meet you, Claire." He pointed to the bracelet. "Very cool find, by the way. I think you're a natural sleuth."

He put the detector over one shoulder, and began to walk away.

" 'Scuse me."

Joseph Swann stopped, turned. "Yes?"

"I was wondering something."

"Okay."

"Is there, I mean, do you guys have, like, campgrounds around here?"

"Campgrounds? Sure," he said. "About a mile up this way. Nice, too."

"I'm not with…" she trailed off, pointing back over her shoulder. She meant she was not with anybody. She meant she was alone. He knew this already.

"Don't worry," Swann said. "It's okay. I'll tell them you're my cousin or something. You won't even need ID. I've got a little juice around here. It's a really nice place. Safe, too."

"Cool."

Claire Finneran smiled. Joseph Swann smiled back.

"It's right up here," he said. "C'mon. I'll show you."

No hesitation now. She grabbed her bag.

They walked into the woods.