I linger a while longer, watching Lily crawl into her car. Squinting, I can almost make out a stack of something in the back, filled to the brim. She was set on coming to her car as opposed to her home, and I’m curious why she didn’t have anyone to come pick her up from the hospital. If it had been my mom, I would’ve driven all night after hearing the news.
I sigh, then slouch a bit in my seat and lean my elbow on the window to contemplate all that is Lily Parker. In another world, one in a big city instead of the serene open spaces, where towering skyscrapers replace staggering sequoias—I imagine Lily would be more of the grunge punk rocker opposed to the reclusive, yet grouchy, hiker. Her dyed hair and nose ring certainly add to that picture. Plus, the fact her hiking equipmentis subpar leads me to believe she hasn’t grown up on the trails and in the lifestyle.
Car tires screech against the trailhead parking gravel, followed by the rapid crunch and scatter of stones flinging in every direction.
I jolt up as Max moves toward the rear window to leer out at Lily’s car, speeding off in the dusty gravel now twisting in the air.
This girl. She’s like a damn tornado.
Shaking my head, for what feels like the twentieth time today, I radio in and turn the truck around heading back to the trails I need to patrol. With the window rolled down and the song “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” turned up too loud, I almost miss the ping of my phone in the center console.
When I glance at the sender, I’m caught off guard. Or maybe that’s a lie … it’s not so much off guard but a rising panic when I see Brent’s name.
I snatch my phone, swerving in the road as I read the message.
Brent
Yo, can you spot me $100?
I grunt but pull off to the side of the road anyway.
My hands clench so hard my knuckles go white around the steering wheel, the pads of my fingers digging into my palms. I pound out an answer letting Brent know I’m working, but with the tightness spreading into my temples I follow it up by asking where he wants to meet.
Being a slave to him, his every beck and call—my jaw aches as I grind my teeth.
It’s typical. The vague but desperate messages whenever he’s short on cash, as if I’m a resource.
I drive out to the abandoned warehouse we agreed to meet at, the one that looms just outside Pinebrook. It’s not exactly on the tourist’s to-tour list, and for many of the average locals, it’s the kind of place that’s forgotten. However, for many dealing in illegal things, this is the place to come.
Rust stains streak down the corrugated metal siding, and the once dark-green paint is peeled to reveal the dull steel underneath. I maneuver my truck near a broken back window, but most of the windows that line the top of the walls are just that. Broken. Jagged glass catches the sunlight making anywhere I look a glaring landmine.
Weeds poke through the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot that used to be a thriving operation specializing in lumber processing in the 1950s. Most of the surrounding landscaping has dried out, brittle patches of grass are sparse, and the sign above the main bay door that used to read Mason’s Millworks is now faded and unreadable.
As I park, the stale and heavy air filters through my open window. The faint metallic smell mixes with old oil and the odd scent of dirt. I test my tongue against the roof of my mouth, annoyed I can taste the thick air. With a quick swig, I finish my coffee from the diner, thinking of Lily going there so soon after her accident. At least her boss was understanding. Hopefully, he takes it easy on her.
Although I’m not so sure why I care.
Max paws at the rear door behind me, letting out a whimper.
“Nein.”
He whimpers again, pawing twice at the handle.
“Fine. Let’s go to the bathroom,” I groan.
After jumping out of the truck, I let Max out and he darts off to sniff around and relieve himself. Brent isn’t here yet, but I scan the warehouse. Cigarette butts litter the ground around me, accompanied by beer bottles galore. The wind moves, whistlingthrough the holes in the metal building, the low hum unsettling in a way.
I hate this. Waiting here for him.
Not only am I in uniform, but my NPS truck is hard to miss.
Leaning against the tailgate, I keep my eyes fixed on the road that stretches around a bend and through the trees. Luckily, it’s an older service road with almost no residential traffic.
There’s a loud bang and I push off to find Max toying with something in the bushes. I can’t tell if it’s living or not, but annoyed, I yell, “Max,Aus. Heir.”
He looks at me, considering, his tongue out and lolled to the side.
“Heir.”
