“Kickbacks are rife. Sheriff is so on the take he should be sunbaking on the Riviera by now, on his pink flamingo floatie.” He chuckles.
“That is quite the image.”
“Yup.” Then I get a proper broad smile out of him, and it breaks the mold of how I saw him.
“Have you decided if you want to describe what happened?” Molly asks. “Hailey?”
I swing to her. I imagine myself spewing forth all my woesand questions and shit to them, and the potential for drama, for everything crashing in and people asking me probing questions, and it’s a shock.
Slowly, I shake my head. These people seem interested in fixing their town, but is it fixable when a huge corporation is doing whatever they are doing that likely needs millions, trillions, to accomplish? The LHC required something like thirteen miles of tunnel dug under Revenant. These guys deal in deer at the bottom of lakes and six-eyed owls. Where do I fit?
My lungs are squeezing in on me, again.
“Let me think on it.” I shove back my chair with a nod and smile as I worm past the backs of chairs to the door.
“Hailey?” Ron is half-frowning, puzzled, and seems crestfallen at my choice. “Next meeting?”
“Yeah. I just need more time.” And breathing space. “Nice meeting you all.”
I get murmured replies, polite smiles, then they resume discussing whether the book should be on the agenda, after all.
I leave, pondering whether I should grab a six-pack of beer from the liquor store down the road. Pretty sure the fridge at the house has none. Not justthehouse, I remind myself, that place is mine now. I will never get used to it not being Dad’s.
Ron catches up with me at my Chevy, his chair humming. He brakes, folds his arms.
“What? Look I’m sorry I messed up back?—”
“No. it’s fine. You need space. I’m more interested in giving you that weapon, if you’re heading back to your house. We won’t be going home for another thirty, forty minutes, I’m guessing.”
“Oh. Of course. Thank you.”
“Good. Take care, and send us a text when you reach your house.”
“I will.”
Which is how I drive out of there with the shotgun in the footwell on the passenger side. I feel strange, having a gun in my car. I never want to need to use it. It’s loaded, too.Fuck.That makes me nervous, as does going home to a lonely house. Where is there in Revenant that I can feel wanted and safe though? I cannot live in Molly and Ron’s house. I will not do that even if they would let me.
After buying that six-pack I head up to Jordan Street.
15
BAD TIMING, GOOD TASTE
Her father’s clothes are the wrong size, wrong style. I don’t fit into any of his stuff.
But this house further down the hill? It’s promising, if dusty, up here. I flip open the first suitcase, sort through the contents. A bunch of ladies’ clothes, skirts, blouses, dresses.
Four suitcases are piled on each other in this part of the attic, and an old dresser stands against the inside wall. God knows how they dragged that up here. There must be another access hole past that doorway.
This house is empty and soulless, the silence heavy with the lack of the sound of feet, of laughter, of love.
It looks as if no one lives here until summer when the fishing is great, the water on the lake is a beautiful mirror, and the little beach teems with half-naked women in bikinis. Days like that were awesome. Drifting in thought, I focus and glimpse the floor below, through the square access hole. Past the ladder, the floor shows my boot prints.
That’s evidence of me breaking and entering. Well, nobreaking, yet. Just some window levering. Need to clean that before I go.
Climbing in through the tower window was simple, if you can scale a wall like a spider monkey. Which, apparently, I can.
The bedrooms have closets with racks of clothes made for holidaying in a rough town where a pair of jeans is perfect for all the outdoor activities, as well as for visiting the bars afterward. If I must, I can take from those, but these suitcases seem less likely to be checked when the owners return.
