We made our way down Main, past Chasen’s bistro and the boutique with overpriced women’s clothing and a chocolate shop that had just opened a few months earlier.
Tourist season was in full swing, weekenders — mostly couples — up from the city and out for dinner or drinks after a day hiking the trails or kayaking the rivers. They held hands too, stopping to look in the shop windows and flowing in and out of the businesses that made most of their money from May to November on the north side of town.
The crowd changed outside the Mill, a mix of curious out-of-towners and locals entering and leaving the bar as we stepped into the southside of town.
“Um… where is this field trip exactly?” I wasn’t eager to run into Bram while I was holding hands with Jagger. Bram had promised to let me make my own decisions about the Hawks, but I wasn’t sure I trusted him to control himself when Maeve wasn’t around.
“We’re almost there.”
We passed Junior’s (there was a line for cones and milkshakes), then the deli and the small engine repair shop. We kept going until we got to a nondescript brick building a few doors away from Screamin’ Syd’s, the biker bar.
Jagger walked up the building’s cracked stoop and held open the door.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“Apartment building.”
“What are we doing here?”
He laughed. “You’ll see. Just trust me.”
I walked up the steps and through the doorway into a shadowed vestibule, a narrow staircase leading to the upper floors, similar to how my building was laid out.
“Let’s go.” Jagger headed for the stairs.
I climbed behind him, up four flights, past several numbered apartment doors with peeling paint, the light dim and gray from a single buzzing bulb on every landing.
“You haven’t decided to ax murder me, have you?” I asked as we passed the third floor.
His laughter echoed off the walls. “If I wanted to ax murder you I’d do it in the comfort of my own home where I could dispose of your body at my leisure.”
“Good to know.” I stifled a gasp as we passed the fourth floor. I guess I needed more exercise. “I feel so much better.”
Finally we emerged onto the fifth-floor landing. There was only one door here, markedRoof Access.
Jagger held it open and I brushed past him to a set of narrow iron stairs that led upward.
It was dark in the stairwell, and I held onto the wall as I climbed.
“Just push that door open at the top,” he said.
I could barely see the door, but I felt for the knob, turned it, and was greeted by a welcome wash of soft light from outside.
I inhaled the warm summer air as I stepped onto the roof.
We were high above Main Street, the brick buildings on Main surrounded on all sides by the rows of houses that lined theresidential streets. Beyond the houses the Blackwell Preserve lurked dark and somber in the fading light.
“What is this place?” I asked walking to the edge.
“Just an apartment building,” Jagger said. “I come here sometimes when I want to let off steam.”
“It’s such a pretty view.” I could see Bram’s loft at the end of the street, and the old railroad tracks that ran in front of some of the lesser-known trails in the preserve. “But how does this help you blow off steam?”
“I’m getting to that part.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and withdrew a thick wad of cash.
I was confused, and my confusion didn’t end when he took a few of the bills, leaned over the edge of the roof, and let go of the money.
“What are youdoing?” I watched the money drift in the breeze.
