Page 31
Bryce eased the car over the uneven terrain, and Kira held the dashboard and door handrest, bracing herself against the bumps and jolts again. Finally, they were back on paved road.
A few minutes later, another cute downtown area came into view. A banner hung across the road reading Welcome to Copper Creek. And right under that stood a construction sign: Detour. Road Closed for Founders Day Parade.
Bryce turned left at the dead end. On both sides of the main street, people, kids, dogs, and lawn chairs lined up to wait for the parade.
“What in the Mayberry did we stumble upon?” Bryce muttered as he navigated the traffic and found a parking space in a jam-packed dirt lot.
Kira made note of their surroundings. Security would be an issue with so many people heading to the parade. And then she saw it. “Check out that truck in the row of parked cars in front of us to the right.”
Bryce craned his neck to the spot Kira pointed. “I think it’s the same vehicle that followed us here.”
A man stepped out of the truck cab. The thirtysomething guy had a long beard and a myriad of tattoos running up and down his meaty arms. But what caught Kira’s attention was the gun holstered on his hip. He pulled his heavy coat from the back seat, slid his inked arms into the sleeves, and zipped up. He snagged a beanie from the coat pocket and tugged it over his head.
“I say we follow him,” Kira said and was halfway out of the car before she heard Bryce agree.
The man headed toward the main street but looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with Kira. Then bolted down a side street and into the crowd of people.
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” she said. She picked up the pace and Bryce stayed with her.
The parade had started, with floats, cars, and marching bands from five different high schools in the area. Everyone was decked out in patriotic flair for the town’s anniversary.
A dog leash tripped Kira, and she stopped long enough to detangle herself from an unhappy poodle with an owner who apologized multiple times and offered her a hot chocolate. She politely declined and raced to catch up with Bryce.
Bryce stopped and pointed. Their suspect was cutting through the parade route, weaving through a high school band marching their way down the street.
“Should we cross in front of the floats?” Kira asked, out of breath from dodging people parked in their lawn chairs. “Or there?” She pointed to a break in the parade behind the band but before an American bald eagle float, complete with a moving head and a halo filled with sparklers.
Bryce nodded and they raced in front of the eagle. Kira saw the man weave through the crowds on the sidewalk and duck into a store named Treasure Trails.
“Travel agency.” She pointed to the brochure in the window, then pushed open the door.
The bell dinged, announcing their arrival. The cramped place reminded her of a department store shopping aisle. A counter with a register lined the back wall, and racks of brochures highlighting a variety of tourist destinations and tours lined the two side walls.
Kira approached the young man behind the counter, who had thick black glasses and wore a commemorative T-shirt from the city celebration. His name tag read Adam.
“We’d like to speak with the guy that just came in. Tall, brown coat, black beanie?”
The kid blanched. “Don’t know who that is. I’m alone.”
Kira placed her hands on her hips. “Adam, is it? You wouldn’t mind if we have a look in that back room then?”
The kid froze and his eyes darted back and forth like he might make a run for it.
The door swung open. “I’ll take it from here, Adam.”
The tattooed man emerged. He shed his coat and the beanie, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and smiled. “So you two have been following me? What can I help you city slickers with? Are you hunting for buried treasure? We’ve got some great tours coming up.”
“Why were you following us?” Kira asked.
The man leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “Why were you talking with Derek Young?”
Bryce narrowed his eyes, keenly aware of the weapon on the guy’s hip. “Why do you care?” Bryce mirrored Kira’s stance but left one hand resting close to his pistol concealed under his jacket. “You followed us through the mountain pass.”
Kira scowled. “Who are you?”
The man held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. You win.” He turned to the store attendant. “Adam, why don’t you go outside and enjoy the rest of the parade. And bring me back a sweet tea.” He handed the kid some cash, then leaned his tattooed arms on the counter. “I’m Theodore Durham. My friends call me Theo. I own this place.”
“So, we’re friends?” Bryce raised a brow.
