Page 49
But then Danielle had turned to see that I had entered the post office. She’d sent me a fiery look and then fell silent, grabbing a stack of mail from the counter and storming out.
Pearly and I hadn’t discussed it, and I hadn’t run into Danielle in years, though I knew she kept some horses on the outskirts of town.
Silas Reynolds had been one of those kids who were bullied throughout high school. A smaller guy with greasy hair, acne, and glasses, even the scant population at Black Vulture High School (total enrollment last time I heard was little more than a couple hundred) wasn’t immune to bullying. Though he was a couple years older than me, I remembered him well enough, at least until I didn’t. If I ever knew what happened to him and his father, I didn’t remember the circumstances.
Jeff Ranke was still around, still changing oil and fixing cars in his garage, and all probably without any sort of proper business license. I didn’t know him well, but, of course, I knew of him. He’d worked on the Jeep once. We’d probably been in the diner at the same time or passed each other on the streets but he hadn’t given me one indication that he had taken some sort of taxidermy class from Wilmot. He didn’t behave like he knew anything about me.
I remembered Johnny Clark. He was on the opposite end of the popularity spectrum than Silas. Johnny wore a leather jacket, had a pierced lip, smoked Camels and was, if not too cool for school, way too cool for my thirteen-year-old self. If I’d seen him in Wilmot’s studio, I would have probably tripped over my words and stuttered, like all the girls did back then.
Surely, I would remember him there if I’d seen him. But I didn’t, and I had no idea what might have happened to him or his father.
Taking a few moments to wrangle the memories and thoughts I had about Wilmot’s purported students had given my anxiety the break it needed. Usually I was a cool cucumber, not rattled by much of anything. But my adrenaline had been spiked for hours now.
It was time to get going again, check on the Smoots. Take my time and be smart about a route. I knew these parts better than most people.
But before I could put the car into gear, I heard the buzz and rumble of another engine. It wasn’t coming from something big. I looked up to the sky for a passing small plane, but that wasn’t it. I glanced out to the desert, my eyes spotting movement, a plume of dust forming behind it.
Someone was on an ATV and coming this way.
“Shit. Someone thinks I’m in trouble.”
I turned the Jeep off and waited.
When the rider was about ten feet away, I finally recognized him.
It was Graham Kucero.
He brought the ATV to a stop and hopped off. “Oh. Hey, Hazel, are you okay? I’m so sorry about earlier.”
I watched him approach. He had on some new boots that I recognized as being from the local grocery store.
“It’s fine. Why are you on an ATV? Is something happening?”
“Oh. No. I tow one inside my mobile lab. Calloway didn’t need me for the time being and we’re just waiting for more lab results. I thought I’d get a lay of the land.” He looked around. “I keep wondering if we’re missing something. There’s a lot of open but oddly hidden space out here. I haven’t found anything, though my leg got stabbed by something.” He looked down at his denim-covered thigh. Blood had soaked through a little.
“You need to get that taken care of,” I said.
“I will. I was headed back to my lab when I spotted you. Is there a problem?”
“No. I was just taking a break.”
“In this heat?” Graham’s face was sweaty underneath his cap’s bill.
“Before the break, I was heading back to town. I didn’t choose the best route.”
“Okay. Uh … You want me to follow you?”
I looked at him. “Is your lab far away?”
“No, I just parked it up there by some caves, on an elevated ridge. I was trying for a valley-wide view. I’d like to catch someone in the act, you know.”
“The Vulture Caves?”
“I have no idea what they’re called. There aren’t signs.”
“Any chance I could have a tour of your lab?”
“Sure. Follow me.” He hesitated. “I mean, if I can see yours too someday.”
