I couldn’t stop thinking about Brian’s cold eyes, and what he’d done to my mom and aunts. I didn’t want the images in my head, how much more real it all seemed now that I had met him. I felt shattered, like something had broken inside me, but I didn’t know how to put myself back together.
I thought about that girl I’d seen who looked like me, wondered whether we had stuff in common, whether I’d like her. I imagined what it might’ve been like to have a younger sister, and anger grabbed hard in my stomach again.
I’d never have a father now.
I started to cry hard, and I let myself, let it all come out until my face was sore and my eyeballs ached. I felt empty and exhausted, but a little calmer.
I changed into my suit in the back of my car, left my towel on the hood, and found a pool in the creek deep enough for me to wash my hair and shave my legs. It would’ve been nice to have a swim, but I lay in a shallow pool with my back resting against the rocks and let the current nibble at me. I thought I heard a rumbling down the road, stood up and strained my ears.
It sounded like a truck.
I quickly got out, almost slipping on the algae-covered rocks under the water near the shore. I heard a door slam. Was it Riley?
When I walked up, I saw a tall man leaning against my car. He was wearing loose jeans, a white T-shirt, and a blue baseball cap with a red logo on it. My step slowed. He had small mean eyes, a wide mouth, with thick lips, a bit of a gut. He looked strong. He smiled, showing lots of stained teeth.
“This is private property, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”
“You Skylar?” he said.
How did he know my name?
“Yeah.…”
“I’m Gavin, this is my ranch. Heard we had a new girl. How did it go today?”
I tried to answer but my tongue was thick in my mouth. It was him. I’d never sensed so much danger from someone. It rolled off him in waves, a dark and cold energy, dirty like engine oil and cigarettes.
Gavin’s smile was fading, his eyes narrowing. I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth and swallowed, trying to get some saliva back.
“Good, thanks.”
I was shivering, my arms wrapped around my body, trying to hide anything he might be interested in. I hated the way he was looking at me, his eyes half-mast, his head tilted to the side, this weird kind of smirk on his mouth.
He picked up my towel, held it out. “Well, come on, you must be cold.”
I didn’t know what to do. Would he try to grab me if I came close enough to get the towel? I thought about the knife under my front seat, kicked myself for not bringing it down to the creek. I couldn’t get into the car without passing him.
I walked up to him, slowly. He held out the towel, gave me a friendly smile.
I reached out, ready to run if he moved a muscle, but he stayed still. I took the towel and wrapped it around myself, wishing it was a beach towel and not a small white one from the motel. I moved around to the passenger side of the car.
He had a beer in his hand. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
He pulled a red cigarette pack out of his front pocket, lit a smoke, his head tilted to the side. For a second it looked like he was checking out my legs, but then he glanced away. A shiver crawled over my scalp.
“Riley mentioned you’ve been sleeping in your car.” He glanced into the back of my car, stared for a second at the blanket I’d spread out. “He said he told you that you could clean up down here after work.”
So that’s how Gavin knew I was there. Why had Riley told his uncle? Was it a trap? I felt a flash of anger at my stupidity.
“I’ll leave.”
He picked up the roach I’d left on the hood of my car, gave me a creepy smile. “Tell you what, I’ll let you stay if you smoke a joint with me.”
I didn’t want to smoke anything with him, but he had this angry energy about him. Like if I said no, he’d freak out. I imagined his big hands hitting me in the face, all over my body, his own face twisted in rage.
“Okay.”
He walked back to his truck. I quickly opened my car door and pulled my T-shirt over my head, grabbed my shorts and pulled them on behind the car. I could see him sitting in the passenger side of his truck, his glove box open. He was rolling a joint, but he kept glancing in my direction. When he looked away I reached back into the car, felt under my driver’s seat, and pocketed my knife.
My bikini was still wet under my clothes, soaking through my shirt. I wrapped the towel around me. I looked around. No one could see me, and no one knew I was there. I’d thought that meant I was safe. I was an idiot.
Gavin closed his glove box back up, leaned over to turn the radio on. He flipped through a few stations. Country music filled the air.
He left the passenger-side door open and walked back toward me, his tongue flicking out to lick the joint’s seam. He glanced up, met my eyes. I looked away. He came around to the front of the car, sat on the hood.
“Come on, don’t be shy.”
I took a couple of steps closer but left a few feet between us. If he tried to grab me, should I run for the woods or my car? I should’ve left the door open. I fingered the knife in my pocket, the cold metal comforting.
He lit the joint and took a long drag, then passed it to me. He stared at me as my mouth circled the end. I looked down while I finished inhaling, passed it back to him.
“Brian said you were eighteen,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got a boyfriend waiting for you in Revelstoke?” He took another drag, coughing on the smoke.
I nodded.
“He doesn’t sound like a very good boyfriend, letting you stay out here by yourself.” He shook his head. “Kids these days, Riley, that fuckhead Noah he’s always hanging out with, they don’t know how to treat a girl.” He passed me the joint. I noticed his hands, how big they were, the dirt under his yellowed nails.
I didn’t say anything, just took a drag, but I didn’t inhale much, didn’t want to get that stoned. I needed to be sharp in case I had to run for it.
“You get cold or scared down here, you come up to the house and knock, okay? I’ve got a couch.”
I’d rather set myself on fire than sleep in your house.
“Thanks, I like sleeping in my car.”
“You got problems with your folks?”
“We’re in touch. My mom worries if I don’t check in every day.”
He gave me a measuring look. “I bet she does.”
I wanted him to leave, but I didn’t know what to say.
“Riley said he might come by later and hang out. Noah too.” It was a gamble—he might already know Riley was doing something else tonight.
“You be careful with those boys. Pretty little thing like yourself shouldn’t be hanging around alone with them.”
“I’ll be careful.”
His gaze slid down, leveling somewhere around my breasts as he sucked on the joint. His phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the call display, his jaw tightening.
He answered. “The fuck do you want…?” He listened, his face angry. “So deal with it.… Okay, okay.…” He ended the call, stuffed the phone back in his pocket, stood up, and handed me the joint. “You’re going to have to finish that for me. My brother needs me up at the ranch—a hose broke in the barn.”
I wanted to cry, I was so relieved, mentally thanking God and whoever else was watching over me. I was getting out of this place and never coming back.
He gave me one last smile. “Don’t forget, door’s always open.”
“Okay.”
He walked toward his truck. The glove box had popped open. He made like he was going to close it, but something slid out and hit the floorboard. He picked it up and in the dim light I caught the flash of a bright blue cigarette pack, looked like Player’s light—king-sized. That was Crystal’s brand.
He got back into his truck an
d drove off, giving me a wave out the window.
The minute I couldn’t hear the truck anymore, I climbed into my car and drove fast back to town. I parked behind the school again, changed out of my damp clothes and into my jogging pants and sweatshirt, and curled up into a ball, but I was still shivering. I couldn’t stop thinking about that pack of cigarettes—I didn’t know any guys who smoked king-sized—and his pack had been red. I couldn’t leave yet. I had to find a way to search around his property.
I decided to give myself one more day. If nothing turned up, I’d call Mom and get out of town.
* * *
The next morning I cleaned the barn again, then Theo had me picking up rocks in the horse corrals. It was backbreaking work, bending and lifting, tossing the rocks into the wheelbarrow, then dumping them out in a pile behind the barn. My hands were so dried out I thought the skin would crack, and my nails were chipped and broken. I’d never appreciated my job at the gym so much before. I wanted to quit a million times, but I was waiting for my chance. I hadn’t seen Riley all day and was starting to get worried that I might not be able to get a tour and ask him about warehouses. I had to find a way to get down to Gavin’s somehow.
He’d been giving me creepy looks all day and kept coming into the barn or walking by the corral, though I didn’t think he even needed to be there.
“You doing okay?” he’d ask every time.
“I’m fine, thanks.” I’d say, relieved when he’d walk away.
Once he leaned on the corral fence and had a cigarette, smoking it slowly while he watched me.
“Sure is hot out today.”
“Yeah.” I tried to angle myself so he couldn’t see my butt when I bent over, but I could still feel him staring.
“Well, I better get back to work,” he said, finally leaving me alone.
Around three o’clock a woman came out of the main house with the young girl who resembled me. They got into a truck and pulled way. The girl gave me a curious look as they passed, then waved. I waved back, my face flushed. Did she notice we looked alike?
I slipped behind the barn to go to the bathroom, and startled when I heard Gavin’s voice close to me until I realized he was in the feed room talking to Theo.
“How’d your date go?” Theo said.
“Bitch never showed,” Gavin said.
“Fuck her anyway, right?” Theo said.
“Damn right.” Gavin was laughing—but too hard, like something was just funny to him, his private joke. Theo laughed along but you could sort of tell he didn’t really know what was so funny. Gavin seemed like the kind of guy who’d brag, not the kind who’d admit someone had stood him up. He had to be lying. Who was he talking about? I hoped Gavin would reveal something else, but they started talking about the ranch and one of the tractors that had broken down.
“I’ll take a look at it tonight,” Gavin said, then he told Theo he had to go check in with Brian, that angry tone back in his voice. I waited behind the barn, peeking around the corner, and watched him walk toward the main house.
He was going to be busy tonight. It might be my only chance, but I had to be sure. When I was finished at five, I washed my hands under the hose, wincing as the water stung my blisters, then got my payment from Theo.
“I heard your tractor is broken down,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual, like I was just making conversation.
“Yeah, Gavin’s working on it now. He’ll get it fixed.”
“Okay, see you in the morning.”
* * *
I was starving but I didn’t want to waste time driving into town to get food. I had no idea how long Gavin would be and I had to make this fast. I left the ranch and drove down the driveway, debating what to do. Should I park at the creek and hike up over the field? It was probably more than a fifteen-minute walk.
Once I hit the road I turned right but drove slowly, looking to see if there were any side roads close to the ranch where I could park. I spotted a dirt road about fifty feet down. I pulled off the main road onto the smaller one, going down a couple of feet and parking on the side. It didn’t seem to be a driveway, at least there was no mailbox, but I didn’t plan on being that long anyway.
As I walked down the second driveway toward Gavin’s, I could see the main house at the top of the hill. It was still hot out, the air smelling like dried grass and dust. I glanced around nervously, worried that Gavin was going to drive in or that someone could see me from the house or the road.
Finally I came around the bend in the driveway and saw the second house. It was smaller than the main one, simpler, more like a basic box. You could tell a man lived alone there, with no chairs or flowers or anything on the front porch, just a stack of empties. I could hear country music, like he’d left a radio on inside. It was kind of loud, which was strange, considering he wasn’t even home.
I noticed a large building slightly behind the house, probably a shop or garage. I headed toward it. The front had two overhead doors that I couldn’t slide up from the outside, and the side door was locked. I came around the back side and climbed a crate, then stood on a metal barrel and looked through a dirty window. It almost looked like there was a car under a tarp, but I couldn’t see the color or anything, couldn’t really even judge the size.
I got off the barrel, glanced toward the house. I wondered if it was locked. How long would it take him to fix a tractor? I’d have to be very careful—it might be hard to hear him coming up the driveway because of the radio. I walked toward the back, figuring it would be safer to find a back door in case I had to run for it.
I looked down the road again, listened. I couldn’t hear anything, just the country music, louder now that I was closer to the house. I crept onto the porch, praying like crazy that he didn’t have a dog. The door was locked, but I noticed a window beside it was open a little, the curtain moving in the breeze. I peeked in. It looked like a bathroom.
I slid the window all the way up. It was stiff and I had to really work it, my hands getting slivers from the old wood. I climbed in, feet first, and landed in Gavin’s bathroom. It was gross, the toilet stained, the tile on the floor dingy, like he never mopped the floor. His toothbrush was on the counter, the bristles flat and the handle caked with old toothpaste, which also coated the sink. A razor was lying on its side, little bits of hair scattered all over the counter.
I crept into the kitchen, opened what looked like a closet door under the stairs, right beside his kitchen table. It was a pantry, large enough that you could walk in and move around. The house had an open floor plan—a mark on the floor and ceiling showed where a wall had been—and I could see into the living room. It wasn’t very big, but he had a large TV. His couch was sagging, a blanket tossed on the side, and a fan hummed in a corner. The coffee table was old, had a full ashtray, none with lipstick, and a bunch of hunting magazines spread out.
I peeked out the little window at the front door, checking for Gavin’s truck. When I turned back around I noticed some steps going down, and another door. Did it go to a basement? I opened it, looked down the dark stairs.
I stood at the top, called out: “Crystal?”
No answer. I started making my way down the stairs, carefully holding on to the rail, each step creaking and my breath tight in my throat. I found a light on the wall, turned it on. The room was packed with boxes, old bikes, tools, garbage bags full of God knows what, camping equipment.
“Crystal?”
I couldn’t see how anyone else could be down there, but I tried to walk around a little, squeezing between stuff, almost knocking over a bunch of boxes. I didn’t see any other rooms. I made my way back upstairs.
The country music was even louder inside the house. Was he trying to cover something? It sounded like it was coming from an upper floor. I walked up the stairs, pushing open bedroom doors, calling Crystal’s name. It was hotter upstairs, my face was slick with sweat, and the air smelled like sewer and rotten food or something. One of the rooms was empty and t
he other had an older bed in it, with a blanket in a camouflaged pattern tossed over it, a hunting poster above the bed. It didn’t look like it was used often. There was still another room at the end of the hall. Maybe the master bedroom?
I walked down the hall, tried to turn the handle but it was locked. He was definitely hiding something.
“Crystal?” I couldn’t hear anything over the radio, which was coming from that room. How could I get in the door? I examined the handle. If I could find a hammer, I might be able to smash it off—he’d know someone had been in his house, but I had to get in that room.
I walked back down the hall—I’d look for a hammer downstairs—and was almost at the top of the stairs when I heard what sounded like a truck door slamming. I ran into the spare room, glanced out the window, which was at the front of the house, and could just see the back end of a pickup truck underneath the overhang. I hadn’t heard him over the radio.
I ran down the stairs, almost tripping on a pair of work boots at the bottom. I had to get through the kitchen and out the back door—no, I didn’t have time. I could hear the front door opening. I grabbed the handle of the pantry door and ran in, closing the door softly behind me.
I stood still, scared to move and trying to catch my breath. The door had slats in the front so I could peek out. Maybe he was just coming home because he forgot something. I waited, listening to his boots out in the kitchen. I could see his shadow moving back and forth. He was on his phone, sounded like he was ordering parts. So he was probably done working on the tractor for the night.
I crept back a couple of feet, setting my feet down gently, praying that the floorboards didn’t creak, and crouched low. I was scared to move around in case I bumped into anything. The door was letting a small bit of light in, and my eyes were adjusting. There were some cans on the shelf beside me. I grabbed one for a weapon and pulled the knife out of my pocket, my hand on the button to flip the blade.
Now I heard pans clanking, a fridge door closing, then something sizzling. The scent of meat and onions cooking filled the closet. Cupboards opening, things being moved around. Then the scrape of a chair being pulled out, sounding close, his body settling down. I realized he was sitting right in front of the closet door, could see part of his shoulder. I held my breath, terrified he’d sense my presence.
Those Girls Page 21
