Drift

by L T Ryan

  “I’d prefer to stay here.”

  The man shook his head and shrugged in resignation. He opened a drawer and pulled out a registration form. “Will you be paying cash or charge? But I should warn you, our credit card machine has been a little finicky lately.”

  “I prefer cash anyway. How much per night?”

  “Forty. But if you’d like to book the room for the week, I can drop it to thirty-five a night.”

  Hatch pulled the cash from her wallet, handing the two twenties over to the man. “Forty will be fine. I doubt I’ll be staying that long.”

  He took the money. Pulling out a small metal lockbox from the same drawer he’d gotten the form, the man took a small key and worked the lock open. He placed the cash inside and closed the lid, then looked up. “I have an incidentals form I’m going to need you to fill out. Just name and address stuff. Even though you’re paying in cash, I am going to need a driver’s license.”

  Hatch smiled, retrieving another twenty and placing it on the counter. “How about we leave that form blank?”

  The man looked at the money and then up at Hatch. She was taller than him by a few inches. His eyes moved up and down, evaluating her. She was wearing a navy-blue fleece-lined windbreaker and khaki cargo pants. He began nodding, the motion indicating he had come to some satisfactory conclusion for her need for anonymity. Taking stock of her apparel coupled with the fact that she hadn’t been phased by the man’s reference to danger, he most likely assumed she was a federal agent.

  Then the man did something she didn’t expect. He pushed the twenty back toward her. “No need for that.”

  “Thanks.” Hatch put the money away, impressed by the man, who obviously needed the cash, yet took the moral high ground and refused the subtle bribe. The simple gesture spoke volumes to his integrity.

  He pulled a room key from a pegboard on the wall behind him and handed it over. “Room number three. Couple doors down from here. Can’t miss it.”

  Hatch took the key and turned to leave. “Thanks.”

  “My name is Manuel. If you need anything, my family and I live in room number one. Don’t hesitate to knock if I’m not at the front desk.”

  “I should be fine, but thank you.” Hatch pushed the door open. The chime above rang out her departure as she walked to her accommodations.

  The room was small, and the furniture a bit dated, but it was clean. Immaculate would have been a better word to describe it. A heavy scent of lemon emanated from the wood surfaces. The carpet, although worn bare in some spots, looked as if it had been cleaned by a professional-grade rug cleaner. Hatch had stayed in more luxurious places that paled in comparison to the effort put into the small strip of rooms.

  She decided to shower and get a good night’s sleep. Hatch wanted to get an early start.

  Downburst Chapter 3

  Each footstep was light and quick. The cadence of breath in sync with every fifth heel strike of the sneaker. Run as if your life depends on it. She heard the words of her father as she picked up the pace. His philosophy was centered around pushing boundaries, both mental and physical. Ingrained at an early age and sharpened in recent years, Hatch lived up to his mantra. Here in a place somehow connected to his past, she pushed herself even harder.

  No better way to find yourself than to get lost on a run. She didn’t plot her morning’s course, nor did she know how long or far she planned to go. Hatch took only the room key and some cash, tucking them into her waistline before heading out on the morning’s trek.

  It seemed like a good way to see the small town of Luna Vista. She had left the motel forty-seven minutes ago and her pace had been relentless. Even with the coldness of morning, she worked up a decent sweat as she opened her stride on a long stretch of road. The terrain was flat, but the elevation, three-quarters of a mile high, put a strain on her lungs. A slight touch of hypoxia gave her an endorphin rush, making each step feel lighter and more disconnected than when she ran at sea level. It was a euphoric experience.

  The smell of bacon caught her attention as she passed a corner diner. The saltiness of the rendered pig fat caused her to slow to a stop. Hatch walked back to the diner and stood on the sidewalk looking in through the plate glass windows. Her legs tingled from exertion, but her stomach rumbled at the marvelous odors seeping out from the restaurant. The diner wasn’t crowded. After taking a minute to stretch her thighs, Hatch entered.

  Local diners were the hub of a small town, and she could think of no better place to start her fact-finding mission than inside the diner. There was a sign inviting patrons to seat themselves, but Hatch didn’t want to take up a table, so she meandered over to the bar-styled counter. She took up a stool a few seats down from a plump gentleman in a heavy plaid coat, the orange and black of a hunter. He was reading the paper and slurping from a mug of coffee and didn’t break from his routine with her arrival.

  An older man with bits of white stubble coating his ruddy jowls approached. He wore a paper hat, covering a head spotted with buzzed hair the same color as his unshaven face. His brow furrowed as he approached.

  “Get you somethin’ to drink, Miss?”

  “Coffee’s fine. Maybe a glass of water, too.”

  The man in plaid folded his paper and Hatch could feel his stare fall on her. He then grabbed his coffee, announcing his return to the morning’s routine with a loud slurp. A moment later, a mug filled to the brim was set in front of her. The aroma had a boldness to it which Hatch enjoyed. She took a sip of it before rehydrating with water.

  She picked up a menu stuffed between a napkin holder and bottle of ketchup. The stubbled man behind the counter waited patiently for her decision. It didn’t take long.

  “I’ll have the Luna Vista special.”

  The man cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty big plate and it comes with a side of pancakes too.”

  “Pretty sure I can handle it.”

  At that, the man’s rough exterior softened. He smiled, drawing up his hound-dog-like cheeks. “One special, coming up.”

  She watched as the man who’d taken her order walked back to the grill. Hatch could see him still smiling as he cracked eggs and flipped the pancakes. He took great pleasure in building the pile of food for her. Must not be a menu item commonly ordered by the women of the town.

  Hatch quietly enjoyed her coffee while she waited, taking the time to survey the other patrons by using the angled mirror above the cooking station. Only a handful of people were in the diner. There were murmured conversations amid the occasional clink and clatter of a dish or utensil. But at some point during her brief observation, each and every one of them took a moment to check her out. Growing up in a small town and having just recently revisited it, Hatch knew the distrust and guardedness with which outsiders were received.

  And she felt it now.

  “Enjoy.” Two plates were set in front of her, one containing eggs, bacon, hash browns, and toast. The other held three of the biggest pancakes Hatch had ever seen. She smiled, understanding the man’s shock at her decision to place the order.

  “Thanks. Mind if I get a refill on the coffee? I’m going to need it to wash down these pancakes.”

  The man laughed as he turned to get the pot.

  He held the pot over the mug, bringing the black liquid back to its brim. Before he walked away again, Hatch asked, “Have you been in business long?”

  The man set the pot on the counter. A small droplet of water sizzled under the heat of the pot’s base. “I’ve been working this counter since this hair was as black as that there coffee. Why you asking?”

  “My father had travelled out this way a long time back. That’s why I wanted to check it out.”

  “Most people don’t travel to Luna Vista. You sure he didn’t mean Las Cruces? Much more touristy.”

  “I’m sure. He worked here for a bit.”

  “You don’t say. How long ago are we talking about?”

  “About thirty plus years ago.”

&
nbsp; “Well, that’s going back a while. I was here then. Not sure I’m going to remember, but I’m pretty good with names.”

  “Paul Hatch ring a bell?”

  The man behind the counter scratched at his stubble. Giving a healthy pause, the answer came in the slow shake of his head. “Can’t say it does.”

  The man in plaid stood abruptly. He tucked his paper under his arm and headed out the door.

  Hatch said, “What do you know about that old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town?”

  The man shrugged. “Not much to say about it. Been that way for years. There’s been a couple businesses take up shop there over the years, but nothing seems to last here. I heard it’s been taken over by a bunch of local punks and used as some kind of hangout.”

  “Can’t the cops do anything about it?”

  The man laughed and turned. Placing the pot back on the burner, he said, “That man who just walked out is the chief of police. Why don’t you ask him?”

  Hatch turned. The man in plaid had already slipped from view. There was no need to chase after him. She’d know where to find him should the need arise.

  She cut into the eggs and began the task of taking on her second challenge of the morning, the Luna Vista Special.

  The cook smiled at her efforts. “There is somebody else who may be able to help you out. Wilbur Smith’s been here since before me. He runs the gun shop across the street. Doesn’t open up for a couple hours, but it might be worth talking to him.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m Harry, by the way.”

  She held up her mug in salutary fashion. “Rachel. But people just call me Hatch.”

  “Well, we serve lunch and dinner, also. So, don’t be a stranger.”

  Hatch looked down at the mountain of food, giving a conciliatory smile. “I don’t think I’ll be hungry again for a long while.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Hatch set about devouring the meal. The long walk back would give her time to digest. She needed to shower off from the run and then pay the gun shop owner a visit.

  The town of Luna Vista owed her some answers, and Hatch wasn’t leaving until she had them.

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