His optimism is sweet, even if a little far-fetched. His dog ate a part of my house last night.
"Jenny, the girl who runs the classes at the pet store, said I should get Frankie into one of her obedience classes."
Did she? I'm sure the perky, big-boobed blonde can't wait to get Spencer locked into a weekly date. Spencer turns his big truck onto the main road to Whitecap, and I work the zipper of my jacket up and down as intense jealousy eats up my insides. I have no reason to feel jealous over Spencer talking to Jenny, but I am.
A small—crazy—part of me wants to climb onto his lap and write my name in big black permanent marker across his forehead. It’s possible I’m more tired and delusional than I realized.
A phone rings, and I reach for mine. It’s instinct, but my screen is blank.
"You got Spencer." The truck jerks to the right as Spencer adjusts to driving with one hand. “I’m about five miles out of Pelican Bay on my way to Whitecap with Joslin.”
There's no way for me to know who he’s talking to, but it doesn't stop me from getting all excited and tingly that someone in his life knows me on a first-name basis. I guess after years of denying it, I’m one of those girls that gets giddy over stupid things like that. Since I’m crazy and all.
"Did you hear the part where I said I had Joslin with me? Where's Bennett or Sloan?"
I tap on Spencer’s shoulder to see if he needs to drop me off at home, but the move doesn't capture his attention.
"Okay. No. I know you wouldn't unless you had no other choice. I’ll head there and report back. Damn straight dinner’s on you.”
The Spencer grunts a few times and ends the call. Spencer slows the truck long enough to type in coordinates on his phone screen and then tosses it on top of the dashboard and speeds up. The truck bounces over the uneven dirt road, causing me to grab the oh-shit handle and hold on.
"Ridge received a new lead on the case we’re working and needs me to check it out. I'm apparently the only guy he has available in a twenty-mile radius."
"Do you want to take me home first? It sounds dangerous." My high-heeled shoes may have only come from target, but they're still not for tracking down criminals.
"No. No, danger at all. Ridge says the guy’s been off the radar for days now. They expect this place is vacant. I’ll pop in, walk the building, and we’ll be on our way to dinner.”
Sounds easy enough.
"It'll be a five-minute detour and then steaks and dessert are on Ridge for the inconvenience.”
Spencer turns when the GPS starts talking, and we drive for a few minutes before he turns right onto another dirt road. This one is almost invisible from the darkness that envelopes the trees this far away from civilization. The truck continues to bounce on the uneven road. My fingers tingle from the death grip I’ve maintained on the safety handle.
The robotic voice warns our destination is ahead on the right, and Spencer leans forward in his seat, his eyes scanning the road before us.
Out of the darkness, a mailbox takes shape.
"There." I point to the right side of the road and Spencer turns onto the tiny driveway without using the blinker.
Trees cover either side of the narrow and unkempt driveway. Tall grass that hasn't seen the blades of a mower grows up on the edges and spills over into the roadway. It definitely doesn't look like anyone's been here in a while.
"Are you sure this is the place?" I ask.
"This is the address Ridge gave me." The road turns to the left, and on the other side of the curve, a rickety old house comes into view. The dirt and gravel driveway end abruptly in front of a crumbling front porch. There's no evidence a car has parked anywhere in the area.
"Do you think it's safe?" Is surely doesn't look safe. An old screen door rattles and twists in the wind, whipping around the small clearing the house sits in. The grass here isn’t as long and overgrown, some evidence of manicuring in its past, unlike the area we drove past on the way in.
"Most criminals aren’t looking to make it in a Better Homes & Gardens magazine," Spencer says, reaching over and grabbing a gun out of his glove box then opening the truck. "Stay here. I'll be right back." Not giving me time to argue, he slams his door and carves a path to cabin.
Like I plan to leave the safety of the vehicle? Another gust of wind whips through the clearing, slamming the screen door against the old wooden siding of the house. Spencer freezes, and I stop breathing to watch him scan each direction around him. His footsteps are faster when he starts walking again, but I'm unable to stay so controlled. My heart beats quicker, but each breath is slow and quiet as if any potential bad guys can hear me.
There's a scrape on the truck, and I twist my body to peek out the back window, but it's only a low tree branch swinging in the breeze. Spencer reaches the front door, giving one last look back to the truck before his body disappears into the house.
The dome light in the truck turns off, bathing me in darkness. I make it another four and a half seconds before reaching over and locking the truck doors.
There's a flicker and then light shines out a large front window of the house, evidence Spencer flipped a switch and the home still has electricity. There are no gunshots or screams of horror, and I release a breath. The wind continues to batter at the trees in the dark, the one lone branch scraping and clawing off the back of the truck.
My mind fills with every single scary-movie monster I've ever seen since my first time when my cousin Letty let me watch Arachnophobia while my parents were out of town. My brain holds an encyclopedia of Big Bads that could be waiting for me in the dark.
