Dark Roads

by Chevy Stevens

  Someone sat beside me, bumped my shoulder. I opened one eye—then both when I realized it was Jonny. His chest was bare, tanned flesh in goose bumps, and his board shorts dripped onto the sand. He stared into the fire with his arms resting loosely on his bent knees. I dragged my fingers through the fine grains, swirled them into a motocross track.

  “You need to improve your speed on the corners.” I pushed a finger hard into a groove. “I went over the video from your last race. You kept your foot on the rear brake too long.”

  Jonny glanced down and grinned, his white teeth flashing. “Thanks, Coach.” He wore his dollar-store Ray-Bans on top of his wet hair, deepened from its usual soft brown to chocolate. He was letting it grow out in tousled waves, like a surfer, his sideburns blending into the shadow along his jaw. His shape felt bigger next to me. I didn’t know if it was because he was putting on more muscle from working longer hours on the farm, or because I felt so small lately.

  He met my eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  We watched the dock for a few moments. He tapped out a cigarette from a pack, squeezed it between his lips as he searched his pockets for a lighter. I frowned.

  He shrugged. “It’s my last pack.”

  I looked hard at the side of his face. He sighed, plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and jammed it into the sand. I took the pack from him, poured the rest of my beer over it.

  “Jesus, Hailey. I just bought those.”

  “Dumbass.”

  “That’s my middle name.” He spread his arms wide until I forced a smile. If I didn’t react, he’d keep putting himself down. I hated that as much as he hated when I was sad.

  “I have to get back before Vaughn comes home.”

  “I still can’t believe you live with the Iceman.”

  “Tell me about it.” My knees wobbled when I stood and swung my bag over my shoulder. Two beers. Enough to give me a buzz, but not so much that Lana might notice.

  “You taking the logging road? No moon tonight.”

  “I have my flashlight.”

  Jonny squinted at me. “Maybe you should get a ride with someone.” I glanced at where they were putting tents up, rolling out sleeping bags. Most of them planned to spend the night, and there wasn’t anyone I wanted to be stuck with all the way back into town.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, text later.” He thumped my calf muscle with a soft fist.

  * * *

  My mountain bike tires were quiet on the dirt road as I passed groups of campers sitting by their fires and propane lanterns, playing cards at a picnic table. No one noticed me. The road was pitch-black as it led out of the campground, the music fading. I leaned forward and flicked on my flashlight strapped to the handlebars. When I reached the highway, I stopped and looked both ways. No headlights. I shifted my backpack straps higher on my shoulder. I had to bike a few miles to the old logging road on the other side—a shortcut back to town. It would still take thirty minutes.

  My pace was easy for the first mile, but when I reached the yellow billboard, I stood up and pumped harder, my breath coming out in huffs. I didn’t like riding by the sign during the day, and it was even creepier at night, the way the women’s faces and names shimmered, the words glowing white. WOMEN—DON’T HITCHHIKE. DANGEROUS HIGHWAY! “Missing” posters for some of the women were still attached to stakes around the billboard like gravestones. Even the air seemed colder out here and chilled me to the bone underneath my hoodie.

  When the sign was behind me, I slowed my pedaling and coasted for a bit. With one hand, I grabbed my cell out of my front pocket and checked the battery. Five percent. I turned it off to save the last bit of juice. A car came over the crest, but I saw it in time, its headlights lighting up the sky. I dropped the bike in the ditch, tires still spinning, and hid behind a bush.

  The car passed. I got back on my bike. The highway began to slope up, a gradual hill, then it flattened out to a long bridge, with cement barriers on each side to stop vehicles from rolling into the ravine and the creek below. I was traveling faster now, wheels humming, backpack bouncing against my shoulders. It felt better to be in my body instead of my head, the exertion familiar—breathe deeply, flex my leg muscles, work against the pain. Then, halfway up the hill, a new noise. The rumble of a large vehicle. Coming fast. Headlights flooded the road in front of me. Damn—no way I could get out of sight.

  The pitch of the engine changed. It was slowing.

  Someone who knew me? One of the guys from the campground? Probably on a beer run. I glanced over my shoulder. The headlights were high and blinding. Definitely a truck, but I didn’t recognize the grille, and I couldn’t make out the driver.

  I turned around and kept pedaling. The truck was almost at a crawl. If it was one of the guys, they would have stuck their head out the window and said something. Unless they were trying to freak me out—in which case I was going to kick their ass. I pressed down hard with my legs and kept my gaze focused where the cement barrier ended a few yards ahead.

  Tires close beside me. The heat of the rubber. The scrape of the window being rolled down.

  I dared a glance, nearly losing control as my front tire hit a pothole. A white Chevy truck. Stripes of blue, yellow, and red down the side. Light bar on the roof. Not a creep. Just a cop patrolling the highway. My relief ended as soon as I heard the voice.

  “Hailey? What the hell?”

  I let the bike slow to a stop and looked through the open window. Vaughn’s face was barely lit from the dash, but I recognized the blond hair cut so short you could see his scalp, the pale blue hooded eyes, and the frown that made my stomach tighten.

  “Were you at the lake?”

  What was the point in answering? He already knew. There was no other reason to be out here, and the ends of my hair were damp. We locked eyes. Vaughn’s frown deepened.

  “Put your bike in the back.”

  I dropped the tailgate and lifted my bike into the box. He’d switched on his hazards, the red light pulsing across the road, flashing onto my arms and face. He didn’t get out to help, which was a good thing. I needed time to think how I was going to explain this. I opened the door and climbed in. He watched as I pulled on my seat belt, then blasted the heat, adjusting the vents in my direction. He put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the highway.

  He glanced over. “Lana said you were going to a movie.”

  “We came out to the lake after.”

  “Did you tell her that?”

  “My phone died.” I rubbed at my cold legs, fiddled with my necklace, carved pieces of elk bone on a leather string. Dad had given it to me. The last time I’d ridden in Vaughn’s truck was when he’d come to the house to tell me about the accident. He’d pulled in so quietly I hadn’t heard the car engine, just the knock on the door. Then his words like static on a radio.

  Went over the bank. Driving too fast. Died on impact.

  I took a few breaths, blinked away the hazy dots, and shuffled my feet. They bumped into something. A black tote bag on the floorboards. I moved it to the side.

  “Careful. That’s camera equipment.” He looked at me again. I wished he’d pay attention to the road. Every time his eyes met mine, I felt a clutch of uneasiness. “Why were you alone?”

  “Everyone’s staying at the campground.” I kept my gaze focused on the white line. “I thought you had a meeting at the lodge.”

  “I left early. Got a domestic call.”

  “Oh.” I chewed my lip, wondering if I knew the people involved. There were only summer cabins and a few farms past the lake. It was odd that Vaughn hadn’t sent another officer out on the call, considering he wasn’t even in uniform, and I was surprised he hadn’t stopped at the campsite. The Iceman loved busting kids for anything—he didn’t need an excuse to hassle us.

  He gave me a hard look. “You been drinking?”

  “I’m underage.” I dropped my head against the seat and closed my eyes partway. The seat
fabric smelled like oranges, something citrus, but with an earthy undertone. A woman’s perfume? It didn’t smell like Lana. Maybe he’d cleaned recently. The dash and door were shiny. I glanced at him from the side. His square jaw jutting out, that long stare down his nose, his large hands flexing on the wheel. Jonny said Vaughn liked to make people feel powerless, and it worked. Ever since I’d moved into his house, I felt like I had to get everything approved by him.

  “Don’t bullshit me. I can smell the beer.”

  “Dad wouldn’t care.”

  “For God’s sake, Hailey. You know how many girls ruin their lives when they hit your age? They hang out with the wrong guys, drink, do drugs.”

  “Not me.”

  “Sure.” He laughed. “And Jonny Miller’s a saint. Been a few thefts lately. If we raided his dad’s farm right now, bet you we’d find all kinds of stolen dirt bike parts.”

  My stomach did a hard flip. The truck felt hot. Vaughn’s cologne mixed sickeningly with that fruity perfume smell.

  He paused, let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, you think you’re all grown up, but Cold Creek is rough. I’ve seen a lot of bad things, okay? It’s easy to get into trouble around here. Someone like you, a pretty girl without a dad, you have to be even more careful.”

  I stared out the window. Dad used to call me pretty, but he didn’t sound like that when he said it. Like it was a bad thing.

  “How you look, what you wear, it attracts attention.” Vaughn shifted in his seat. I glanced over. He was looking down at my cutoffs. “People get the wrong idea.”

  Heat climbed my throat, my face. Why was he saying these things? My shorts weren’t tight or cut too high. Half the girls in town wore them so the front pockets showed.

  “I was only on the highway for a few minutes. I was going to take the logging road.”

  “You think someone can’t kill you in a few minutes?”

  “Nobody’s going to kill me.” I tried not to roll my eyes, but he must have heard the sneer in my voice, because his head snapped around.

  “You think this is funny? Lana’s friend was murdered on this highway, remember? She was just having fun at the lake too, and look what happened to her.”

  “She was hitchhiking,” I mumbled. “It was a long time ago.”

  “Yeah, and more girls have been killed since, so while you’re living with us, there will be no more parties, and no more lake.”

  “Like ever?”

  “Not without me or Lana.”

  “That’s crazy. Why can’t—”

  “That’s the rule. If you break it, I’ll lock up your bike, understand?”

  I clenched my jaw so tight I could feel my teeth grinding together. He’d been wanting me out of my room, so I finally go out for a couple of hours, and this is what I get? Served me right for thinking anything could be the same again. I should have stayed in bed.

  We drove in silence until we were off the highway and through the quiet neighborhood where they lived. He pulled to a stop at the end of their street by the mailboxes. I could just see the white trim of their house in the distance. I looked over, confused.

  It was dark in the truck with the dashboard lights off. His body close. He was big, his shoulders bunched. He had turned the radio down. I didn’t remember him doing that.

  “I’m going to the station to fill out a report.” He stretched his arm across the back of the seat and twisted toward me. “I’ll keep tonight’s adventure between us.”

  “You’re not going to tell Lana?” What was going on? He’d just handed down his stupid rule, and now he was giving me a pass?

  “Your aunt doesn’t need more problems. She has enough to deal with, don’t you think?”

  Right. Another mouth to feed. A headache. A kid neither of them wanted.

  I nodded.

  “Good girl.” He patted my leg, then reached across me. I flinched, pressed back against the seat. The door swung open. “Go on. I’ll wait until you get into the house.”

  I slipped out of the truck, closing the door softly so that I didn’t wake Lana in case she was sleeping, and got my bike. It wasn’t until I reached the front steps that I heard the truck drive off. When I glanced over my shoulder, I caught a flash of red taillights through the trees.

  Lana was curled up in a chair in the living room, book in hand, her face lit with a soft glow from the lamp. “Hi, sweetie.” She gave me a warm smile. “You have a good time?”

  I hovered in the doorway. I wanted to get to the bedroom and put this entire night behind me. “Yeah. Sorry I’m late. Battery died.”

  “You must have thought I was a lunatic with all my texts.” She laughed. “Guess I have to get used to it. I thought it would be a few more years before I had a teenager in the house.” She looked at her watch and yawned. “I should get to bed. Vaughn’s meeting is running late too.”

  I forced myself to smile and say good night. While I brushed my teeth, I thought about what she had said. Vaughn must have told her he was going to be late before he picked me up because I never saw him using his phone. So why didn’t he want Lana to know he was out on a call tonight? What was the big deal? He went on calls all the time. Unless that was a lie too and he was really somewhere else. Then I remembered that faint perfume scent on his seats. I stopped brushing my teeth and stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes wide as it sank in.

  He wasn’t covering for me. I was covering for him.

  CHAPTER 2

  The vinyl seat on my bike was burning hot as I slid a leg over. I squinted against the bright sun and coasted around the building, my chocolate-banana milkshake balanced on the handlebars. The parking lot bordered a small rest area with picnic tables and totem poles. The tallest one had an eagle on top, wide wings outstretched, the carvings painted in red, black, and white.

  Mason’s Diner and Dairy Queen were the only places most of us hung out because we could afford the food. Jonny was sitting on the open tailgate of his truck, with Andy and a couple of other guys standing around. I’d gone to a movie with Andy once, mostly because he kept asking. A failed experiment.

  Two girls walked over, staring at their phones, thumbs flicking. Motocross bunnies. The only time they talked to me was if they thought I could hook them up with Jonny. Everything about school had been a waste of time, and it was going to suck even more without Jonny next year. At least he wasn’t going away to college.

  I stopped in the shade behind the building, tugged my cell free from my pocket, and found my last conversation with Jonny. We’d texted after he got home from the lake, but I was waiting to tell him about my ride with Vaughn. I could barely look at Lana this morning. I’d stayed in the bedroom for hours, then told her that I was handing out résumés around town.

  My finger tapped across the keyboard, adding to our long thread. Hey, loser-face. Can’t get through your fan club. Meet you at the workshop.

  Jonny looked down at his cell, laughed, then glanced around the parking lot until he spotted me. He gave a thumbs-up. Over his shoulder I noticed a flash of white coming down the street. Vaughn’s truck? I wasn’t waiting to find out. I spun around so fast I hit a girl in the legs with my wheel. She lost her balance on the edge of the sidewalk and nearly dropped her burger. Simone, I realized when I saw her inky black hair and hipster glasses. Andy’s sister.

  “Hey! Watch it.”

  “Sorry.” I wheeled away, darted between the buildings until I was out front by the picnic tables. Kids were laughing, pushing and shoving each other as they waited for their food. I used them to block any view of me, glanced over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, then cut across the baseball field and disappeared into the woods. I’d take the trail, then stay on the side roads. Jonny and I had a few secret routes. We used to race our bikes home before he got a truck.

  Cold Creek was small, even smaller if you knew how to get around on a bike. The downtown was really only a few streets, with a truck stop, the diner, a motel. The rest of the area was rural, with lar
ge farms and people who didn’t much like other people. Those houses usually had a few pickup trucks in the yard, collapsing fences, tarps on the roof, loose chickens, and a dog or two. I didn’t cut across those properties or I’d end up with shotgun pellets in my back.

  Ten minutes later I was zipping around the corner near my neighbor’s house, my brakes clenching so hard they squealed. I coasted up their driveway, shushing their dog when he barked, and crossed through the trees to my house. At the edge of our property, I stopped to look around. No white truck. My heart slowed, my skin cooled, breath returned to normal. Stupid. Of course Vaughn wasn’t following me. I leaned my bike against the railing and climbed the steps.

  Lana was right—my house was beautiful. Dad had converted an old orchard barn, built a rock fireplace by hand, and refinished all the wood floors. They still smelled faintly of apple. It was impossible to think of someone else living here. What would they change? Would they paint the walls? Rip out the sky-blue cupboards and the nook Dad had made from the barn doors?

  I’d come over a few times since the funeral, once with Lana for more clothes, a couple of times with Jonny. We sat in silence, played video games, Fortnite, Call of Duty. When I couldn’t see the screen because I was crying too hard, he pulled my head down onto his shoulder.

  Dad’s red plaid coat was on the hook by the door. The one he wore when he was burning brush or splitting cedar. I slid my arms through the sleeves, breathed in the smoky smell, his Old Spice cologne. His coffee mug was on the sink. I wrapped my hand around the mug, placing my fingers exactly where his would have rested, and carried it with me as I walked around the house.

  My favorite photo of me and Dad was still on his dresser. The two of us standing on a pebbled shore, our canoe behind us, bright red against the blue-green northern lake. Our old hunting dog, Boomer, spent most of the time snoozing while we reeled in fish. We were unstoppable that day. Dad said it was almost unfair to everyone else, we were such a good team. He let me hold the biggest of our catch, a rainbow trout, and leaned down with his arm slung over my shoulder, our heads pressed together. Same strawberry blond hair, same green eyes, same freckles. He liked to say we had the same heart too, but his had stopped beating, and now mine ached all the time.