Page 7 of Mountain Target

He took a moment to look around the living room. There were a couple of boxes of books left to unpack in a corner, but most of his things were already in place. Not that he had much. Even with most of his things in place, the apartment still looked half-empty.

A handful of flattened cardboard boxes waited by the door. He picked them up easily in one hand to bring them to the garage. It made sense to store them for when he moved again.

Leaving his front door propped open, he walked outside and around the back, stepping over dark concrete that he knew would soon be covered in snow.

He let himself into the garage through the small side door. The interior was neatly divided into two sections. One side had shelves stacked with colorful, clearly labeled plastic storage boxes. He assumed those belonged to his neighbor, though the handwritten labels were much neater than the proverbial doctor’s handwriting.

The other one, empty except for the motorcycle he’d rolled in a few hours earlier, was his. He checked to make sure there was space for another car to park next to it. He had to assume the doctor would have a car.

The black BMW R nineT, which he’d had for a little over a year, was all sleek lines and smooth power. Not many things made Beau smile, but this motorcycle was one of them.

He turned the light off and walked back out. Even in the few minutes he’d been inside, the sky had gotten darker. He shivered in his T-shirt. It was only early October, but already the evenings were growing cold.

A soft, keening sound by the back staircase, leading to his neighbor’s apartment, stopped him in his tracks.

An animal.

No.

A woman?

The small figure was huddled on the fourth step of the outdoor staircase, leaning against the wall of the house, as if it could shelter her from the wind.

It took him a moment to realize she was too small, the voice too young, to be his neighbor.

A child.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He purposefully kept his voice quiet, but still she jumped a mile high at the sound of it. At least the keening sound stopped, though, confirming she’d been the source.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Beau continued, taking a step back. He was used to doing this, even with adults. He knew he was a big man.

The girl looked at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“I don’t talk to strangers,” she said, repeating a well-learned mantra.

Good.

That makes a lot of sense.

If he had a daughter, he wouldn’t want her speaking to strangers, either.

She must have sensed he was getting ready to turn away.

“I’m Renata,” she said, very formally.

A big name for a little sprite of a girl.

Beau took a moment to look at her. She was small, but her large, hazel eyes told him she wasn’t as young as he’d initially pegged her for, with freckles on the bridge of her nose and light brown hair that fell down her back and looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days.

“But everyone calls me Ren.”

“What do you prefer? Renata or Ren?”

“Ren,” she said quickly. “That’s what my … that’s what I prefer.” Tears filled her eyes again, and Beau realized he’d unwittingly touched on a sore point. The way she blinked them away, like someone who had experience doing exactly that, made something hurt inside his stomach. “And you? What’s your name?”

And even though he’d been intending to walk away, even though he knew that was exactly what he should be doing, he found himself replying.

“My name’s Beau,” he said. “But you do realize that’s not how it works, right, kid?”