Turning Time

“Do you want to play a game?”

Tommy nodded. There was that glint of wickedness in Jamie’s eyes that meant he was plotting. Tommy never knew his brother’s intentions, but he always had fun, even when he got whooped for it.

“Look what I’ve got.”

Jamie slipped a diamond-faced watch from his pocket. It had their father’s initials on it: J.S.

Its gold shimmered against the backdrop of freshly fallen snow.

“Tom. Tom?” Thomas stirred and looked to see his partner’s hand tapping his shoulder.

“Yeah, hey.”

“Where were you?”

“Lost in a memory, I guess.”

“There’s suspicious activity over at the Lance Farm. Heard shouting late last night, they went out to look this morning and found blood.”

“Let’s go.”

The snow was fresh, powdered. It and the farm reminded Thomas of his childhood.

“Count to fifty, and I’ll hide dad’s watch in the snow. Then, I’ll hide. If you find the watch, you win. If you find me first, you get a clue.”

Jamie ran off. Tommy counted.

They reached a disturbed portion of snow. At least two sets of footprints, a spray of blood stark against the pearl white. Something glinted in Thomas’s peripheral. He split off and uncovered the shining object from the snow. His breath caught. It was a gold watch, initialed J.S.

Tommy searched for his brother and the watch for hours. Then, so did the police. Jamie must have hidden really well, Tommy thought, because no one ever found him or that watch.