Tracker by Adrianne Lemke Page A

direction. Hopefully whatever evidence was collected at the scene would correspond to what Jason could potentially find.
    “Jason?” I kept my voice low and gentle. He didn’t respond just stared out the window, tears flowing silently down his pale cheeks. “Jason,” I tried again, “I’m so sorry.”
    I stared at my hands holding the steering wheel as I stumbled over words I didn’t want to say. “We need you to ID her,” I finally got out.
    He gave a slight nod, but remained silent. I could see his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw was set. It appeared as though anger was about to rise to the forefront of his emotional roller coaster ride. “What do I tell the others?” he questioned softly, turning to look at me for the first time since I’d told him. “I’ll have to call her so-called mother too, I suppose,” he added bitterly.
    “I—” I stopped and looked at him in surprise. “You know how to contact her mother? How?”
    He shrugged. “All the kids told me about their homes and how to contact their parents. They figured if something happened, their parents might be interested to know. From what they’ve told me, most of them wouldn’t care. But I guess I need to tell her that her daughter is de— gone.” His voice cracked, not allowing him to say what he knew was true. “That part should be easy enough. Her mother kicked her out. But how do I tell the people who actually care about her?”
    The look on his face morphed from disgust at how Erin’s mother treated her to such a profound sadness that I almost broke down for him.
    How would he tell them? Ginny and Jeff looked up to Erin like an older sister, and she worked directly with Paul to keep the younger kids happy whenever Jason wasn’t around.
    “I don’t know,” I admitted, choosing not to comment on the situation with Erin’s mother. Once again, Jason did not respond. I assumed he hadn’t really been looking for me to have the answer, but that didn’t stop me from feeling guilty. I couldn’t help him. It was not a feeling I enjoyed.
    We arrived at the scene and Jason’s face lost any remaining color, becoming nearly as white as the gauze covering his wound. There were two police cars, an ambulance, and the medical examiner’s truck already on site. Dan’s car was there as well, and I saw him standing by the M.E. as the man examined the body. Jason and I both got out of the car and Jason bolted toward the girl. Two of the police officers restrained him as he nearly collapsed sobbing when he realized it really was Erin’s body lying there, beaten and bloody.
    Dan’s face was full of sympathy and regret. I knew mine was the same. We both felt there should have been something done to protect the kids, but we had no idea Mason was going to strike this quickly. Jason gave up struggling against the officers and sagged to the ground. He suddenly began to pound the dirt with his fists and the ground began to shudder under the power of his sorrow. “Jason, stop!” I ran to him and pulled his hands away from the ground before he ripped them apart.
    Everyone had stopped what they were doing when the ground began to shake, hopefully not connecting the event with Jason’s pounding. “Now isn’t the time,” I told him gently.
    “You’re right,” he said clearly, his voice devoid of the sorrow that had plagued him only seconds earlier. He knelt again and I started to reach for him as he once again placed his hands in the dirt. This time, however, he did not pound them in anguish, but dug them in gently. He sat for a moment, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, as he—I assumed—accessed his abilities, then rose and walked toward the car. He didn’t give Erin another glance.
    The other officers and the M.E. were staring after him, only mildly surprised by his extreme shift in mood. All were experienced enough to know that each person reacted differently in the face of tragedy. Dan was looking at Jason’s retreating form