Inhaling a deep breath, I fight back the tears. “Having a small nervous breakdown, but otherwise my health is good. My neighbor, Jim, died.”
“I’m sorry. You want to talk about it?” he asks, dropping his hands and leaning forward.
“Are you a therapist now?” I respond, sarcastically.
“Former psychologist, actually.”
My mouth drops open again.
“What shocks you the most? The profession or that I had a career before doing this work?”
“Both? I always figured you lived with your mother.” I cringe. “Sorry.”
“Some stereotypes exist for a reason.” He shrugs off the insult.
“Why do you do this?” I gesture around the perimeter of the room.
“After years of listening to people complain about their relationships and how awful their lives are, I started wondering what the point of it all is. There must be something bigger out there. Guess I fell down a rabbit hole.”
“And you believe all of this?” I need to believe he does.
“I do. The more I started digging, the less the official stories made sense. I wanted to find as many anomalies as I could to counteract the truth we’re spoon-fed all of our lives.”
“And the paranoia?”
“Justified. Big Brother is real, and always watching. Hell, people don’t even realize how much of their privacy and life they happily hand over to the government. Siri, Alexa, Google. They’re all listening, watching, tracking us. Manipulating us with algorithms. We’re living in a sci-fi novel.”
There’s the Zed I know.
Surprisingly, he cuts himself off mid rant. “You didn’t come back to hear my thoughts on the world.”
“No.”
“Still looking for answers about your dad?”
“I’m trying to move forward, but I’m feeling more lost than ever. I’ve spent my whole life both doubting and wanting to believe there’s a grand scheme behind his disappearance. Now I’m not sure I’ll ever get answers.”
“Pretty scary stuff. Living in a world of infinite possibilities. Are you okay with not knowing?”
Pressing my lips together, I think about his question for a moment. “I guess I’ll have to be.”
“If you think about it, you’ve been living most of your life with this uncertainty. Do you want the truth or do you want to be happy? And can you accept the two may not exist in the same reality?”
After digesting his words of wisdom, I answer, “I think I choose happiness.”
“Now you’re at a crossroads. You don’t have to continue down the same path you’ve been on.”
“When did you get so wise, Zed?”
“Woke up one morning and stopped buying into bullshit.”
I laugh at his passion, knowing it’s not mine. “Speaking of crossroads and paths, I went out to the UFO crash site earlier today.”
“Find what you were looking for?”
“Nope.”
“You go to the real one or the ‘official’ site off of 285 past mile marker one-thirty-three?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows.
“The sign said official.” From his expression, I already know I’ve gone to the wrong place.
“Lucy.” His voice is full of disappointment. “have you learned nothing from me? Official is code for cover up.”
“Do you mean the debris field? I’ve been there before,” I try to recover.
“More like field of planted evidence.” He rolls his eyes. “Hold on.”
He spins his chair around and pulls a long tube off the mostly empty shelf.
“I tried to show you this during our last chat, but you left.” He unrolls several maps and charts. “See this? You were over here.”
I follow where he points. A red circle has been drawn around the “official” site. Two more circles form a triangle on the map. “This is the debris field, but what’s this area?”
“Some call it Boy Scout Mountain. Others know it by the ranch owner’s name. My people refer to it as the one, true crash site.” He jabs his finger on the third circle.
“What’s the ranch name?” I ask, a strange certainty settling into my bones. “Never mind, just tell me how to get there.”
HEADING WEST OUT of Roswell, I drive into the foothills of the Capitan range. Dark rain clouds block the sun, turning afternoon to evening dusk.
I flip on my headlights as the light fades.
Following Zed’s instructions rather than using the map feature on my phone, I turn off the main road before reaching the town of Hondo. Oblivious how close I was to the truth, I drove right by this turn on my way down from Capitan last week.
The narrow county road twists farther into the mountains. Along the road, fencing marks private property and a few ranch homes break up the landscape.
Among a small grove of mesquite trees, a sign declares I’ve reached Arabella. Below it is another sign warning about a primitive road for the next six miles.
“Huh, wonder what that means?” I ask myself out loud, because apparently I talk to myself now.
The pavement abruptly ends and my car jolts when it hits the rocky dirt.
“Thanks for answering my question,” I tell no one.
According to Zed’s directions, I’m right on track.
To my left, thunder flashes in the sky, illuminating a triangular mountain peak. Must be getting close.
Fencing continues to run alongside the road, but houses and other structures peter out.
Static overtakes my radio station and I hit the other presets, finding the same problem with each of them. I hit the scan button and the radio flips through numbers in a loop.
“Must be the mountains.” I turn off the radio.
Talking to myself helps with my nerves as raindrops splash on my windshield.
“No big deal. Just a thunderstorm. Been in plenty. Wipers activated.”
With no radio playing, I can hear the thunder rumbling and try to count the time between flashes of lightning and the clap of sound. “One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand . . .”
Boom.
I peer at the sky out of my side window, watching for the next bolt of thunder. My tire hits a bump, drawing my attention back to the road.
I slam my brakes, pumping my foot to stop the car.
Directly ahead of me, the dirt is gone. No more road.
It disappears into a void. The only thing between me and certain death is a rustic “X” made of crossed pine logs. A single orange flag flutters in the wind. Definitely not the world’s strongest barricade.
“Why would Zed send me out here if there’s no road? Does he expect me to hike into the wilderness on my own? With the snakes and the scorpions and gun toting ranch owners?” I lean forward, trying to see through the rain. My wipers are at top speed and they’re not able to keep up with the deluge as I focus on the gap in the surface of the earth.
“It’s a sinkhole,” I whisper.
My headlights show there’s land up ahead, so I’m not at the edge of a cliff. The hole has swallowed the road and a few dozen yards on either side. Barbed wire fencing cuts across the road, marking the border of someone’s property. It disappears at the edge of the hole.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t get lost. I haven’t made any turns since the pavement ended. No wrong forks in the road to take.
I pick up my phone to call Zed. “No service. Of course.” Tears of frustration burn behind my lids.
Staring out through the rain at the sinkhole, I decide to wait for the storm to pass.
Then I’ll get out and explore the area to see if I can continue.
I’m fine. Sitting alone at the edge of a sinkhole, in a storm.
Alone.
In the middle of nowhere.
Only Zed knows where I am.
Maybe it’s a practical joke. Get the mark to drive herself out to the middle of nowhere based on a random map with red circles.
My eyes shift side to side as I
contemplate Zed wanting to off me for quitting my semi-fake internship.
How far would he go to protect his secret work? Why were all his files and folders gone?
Who is Zed really? I don’t even know his last name.
Zed, if that is even his name, seemed genuinely concerned about me today.
Maybe the Center was a front, and I am a naïve dupe.
A front for what though?
Sex trafficking would be the obvious answer.
Too horrible to even contemplate.
My mind spirals into dark places.
I check my breathing and pulse to see if I’m on the verge of another panic attack.
“Okay, this is crazy. I’m going to turn around, drive home, and pretend this didn’t happen. Or drive up to Capitan and get a whole pie first.” I shift the car from park to reverse and glance in the rearview mirror.
My foot slips off the brake and I quickly slam it back down when I see the gray truck pulling up behind me. Setting the car in park, I ease my foot off the pedal.
“No way.” Mouth hanging open, I’m shocked. No, something more.
Gobsmacked.
“Zed, you snake!” I shout at the roof of my car while shaking my fists.
Boone knocks on my window.
I ignore him.
“I can see you, Lucy.” Bending over until his face is parallel with mine, he makes the universal gesture for rolling down my window.
“It’s raining,” I tell him, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I know. I’m getting soaked.”
I will not gawk at his thin cotton shirt clinging to his chest.
Definitely not.
“Stop staring and come out. Or unlock your doors and let me in.” His soft tone emphasizes the double-meaning.
I click the button and point at the passenger side. He jogs around the back, dashing through the red glow of my tail-lights.
Immediately regretting the offer, I inhale his warm, spicy sandalwood scent mixed with the fresh rain and wet mesquite from the storm. He takes up too much space and air in my little car.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, sliding his seat back to accommodate his long legs. He doesn’t sound upset, just surprised.
“Sightseeing.”
“More like trespassing,” he chuckles.
“You own the county roads, too?” I ask, dropping a not so subtle hint I know about SFT owning the majority of land out here, while deflecting from my awkwardness about him discovering me on his property. And I miss him. Seeing him again makes my heart ache like a bruise I want to keep pressing.
His tiny baby caterpillar mustache twitches. Yes, it’s back. I need to find out these bets he keeps losing.
“This section of the road’s closed. If you didn’t notice, there’s a sinkhole across right over there.” He tilts his head in the direction of the hood, but keeps his eyes on mine.
“I noticed.” I cross my arms. “How’d you know I was here?”
“You’re parked at the edge of my family’s ranch. I saw headlights and came down to make sure some lost tourist didn’t end up in the hole. For some reason, people keep stealing the ‘Closed Road’ sign where the pavement ends. Most people see the dirt road and turn back. Not you, though.” He gives me a small smile that reaches his eyes.
I don’t return the smile because I’m still rolling around in my sadness like a dog. “I’m more stubborn than the average tourist.”
“That you are. But it doesn’t explain how you found your way here.” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Zed gave me these directions,” I blurt out, feeling like I’ve been sent on a fool’s mission.
“Zed?” His eyes widen.
I slap a hand over my mouth. “No one. Nothing. I’m clearly lost. I thought this might be a shortcut to Capitan.”
“From the Center?” he asks, studying me.
“What center?” I play dumb.
“From the Ufology and Universal Intelligent Life Center. He’s the only Zed I know.”
“Hold on, you know about that place? And you know Zed?” The idea of the two of them hanging out is stranger than visiting seventy-year-old crash sites and expecting answers.
He nods, completely unfazed we’re talking about a top secret organization. “Roswell’s a pretty small town.”
“He sent me out here with a wild story that the UFO crashed on your family’s property,” I confess, since he already knows about the Center.
“Did he?” Unaffected, he runs a finger over his upper lip. “Interesting. Never figured him for the sentimental kind.”
“Zed? Sentimental?” Confused, I narrow my eyes at him. “Spill.”
Adjusting the vents and turning on the AC to clear the steam from the windows, he avoids answering me.
“Boone?”
Finally shifting his attention to me, he confesses, “I knew who you were when I first started coming into the Rig.”
“What?” I gape at him, my chin tucked into my throat like a pelican.
“My family’s known Zed for years. When you first showed up, he didn’t trust you and asked me to keep an eye on you. From a distance. Not engage with you,” he says, managing to rush through the words and simultaneously sounding nonplussed.
“You were spying on me?” I screech, but softly like a baby bird.
All I can think about are birds. Maybe the turkey vultures at the other crash site were a sign.
“I guess, in a way. A man needs to eat, and I do like the pecan pancakes there.”
“Is that why you never spoke to me other than to order?”
Nodding, he gives me an apologetic smile that only lifts one side of his mouth. “I failed at the first rule.”
“The first rule of Stalker Club? This is really creepy, you know that, right?” Not like randomly showing up at his house unannounced like I’m doing right now. Which is both creepy and pathetic.
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but Zed asked me to keep his secret.” He sounds sincere. “And if I kept to the rules, you wouldn’t be here with me now.”
I’m still stuck on Zed sending Boone to keep track of me.
“I have a question. More like a bunch of questions.” He rests his hand on the console between us. Even though he’s not touching me, I feel the static electricity build.
“Can I reserve the right not to answer?” My voice cracks.
“Lucy.”
He knows what it does to me when he whispers my name.
“Boone,” I mimic him.
“Ready? First, are you still mad at me from Pete’s? Because I need to know how much groveling I have left to do before you forgive me. If it’s a lot, I’m going to suggest we drive up to the house so we’ll be more comfortable.”
Rain thumps down on the roof as my gaze drops to his wet T-shirt and jeans. Ignoring the invitation to his house, I whisper, “I’m not mad, but what would you do to grovel?”
He touches my chin with his finger, tipping my face up to look at him.
“Anything. I’d do anything.” His deep green eyes search mine, focus bouncing over my face. “I can’t stand being apart from you.”
It’s a good thing I’m not standing because I feel my body turn to jelly at his words. One minute I have bones and tendons, the next, nothing but jelly.
Unfortunately, I’m still in defense mode, too tender from Jim’s death and my recent realizations to melt into his arms. Instead of swooning, I say, “Jim died.”
“I’m sorry.” He cups my cheek, his eyes full of compassion. “How did you know him?’
“He was my neighbor.” My chin wobbles and my breath quivers when I try to continue.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy.” He doesn’t ask how or if we were close or anything about Jim, but the words he speaks are enough.
“Thank you.”
“I feel like a jerk.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should know these things. I want to know everything.” He catches a tear as
it slides down my face.
“My life’s too messy and complicated. You don’t want to get onboard this crazy train.”
“Fuck that. No one’s life is easy.” Boone pins me with an intense look. “Do you see me as just another complication?”
I hate the bolt of hurt that flashes across his face.
“I never said that,” I say, quickly, not wanting to hurt his feelings.
“Worse. You decided we shouldn’t even date. That was pretty harsh.” He stares out the rain-covered window.
“I never used the word even. And if you’d listened, you’d have realized that I was trying to protect you from my crazy. You don’t know the depth of my weird.”
He leans closer to me in the small space. “I do know you. And you’re my favorite weirdo. I shouldn’t have let you leave that night on the sidewalk. I should’ve kissed you and told you nothing you could say would drive me away. I never should’ve let you go. Because I was already falling in love with you.”
This is the most outrageous outcome for my already strange afternoon of trying to visit UFO crash sites. Never did I imagine sitting in a car with Boone in another thunderstorm while he tells me he thinks he’s falling in love with me. This is beyond impossible. I’m probably home asleep in my bed dreaming this moment.
“I was horrible to you,” I mumble my apology.
“We both had our moments, but I’m not going to let fear and jealousy win.” He picks up my hand and slides his fingers between mine. Neither gripping nor holding, more like he’s testing our connection.
Warmth spreads up my arm as I feel the familiar spark.
“You can’t fall in love with me.”
“I’m not asking your permission. Anyway, it’s too late to give it. The past weeks have been torture staying away from you. Every morning I drive by the diner, hoping to see you through the window.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I’m pretty pathetic these days.”
“Why me?” I whisper.
“Because in all the world, there’s only one of you. Think of all the factors that clicked into place in the universe for us to meet. Each piece had to happen in the order they did for our paths to cross. The odds are millions to one, and yet here we are.”
Tinfoil Heart Page 20
