Dark Roads

by Chevy Stevens

  “My sister always talked about how beautiful this area was.” She forced her face into a cheerful smile. “I’ll get you some coffees.”

  For the rest of the time they were in the diner, she stayed on the move, which wasn’t hard with the morning rush. When she took their orders, she jotted everything down, grabbed their menus, and kept their coffees full, but she never lingered, never gave Vaughn a chance to ask anything else.

  Toward the end of the cops’ meal, a group of guys came in and sat at the counter. They had the local look, T-shirts, jeans, baseball caps with hair winging out, or a tightly shaved head. Judging by their slow steps and haggard faces, she guessed they’d probably woken up hungover. Welcome to the club. She’d bring them a carafe of coffee and glasses of water as soon as she could.

  She was walking past them, carrying a tray for another table, when one of them turned and glanced at her. Brown hair under a red ball cap, blue eyes, good-looking in a farm-boy kind of way. White shirt, tanned, muscled arms. She could almost smell the hay and fresh air on him.

  Her foot caught on the edge of a stool and she lurched to the side. The tray dipped, plates sliding to the edge. She tried helplessly to right it, but he was quicker. He reached up and balanced it for her, his fingers beside hers beneath the flat of the tray. Their eyes met, and they paused, both still holding the tray. A thud, the sharp ting of cutlery, like someone behind them had set a cup down too hard. He looked across the diner and his mouth twisted in a grimace.

  She followed his gaze. Vaughn was staring at him—his face flat and cold. Farm boy let go of the tray and got to his feet. He was tall, their bodies so close she had to tilt her head to look up at him. He met her gaze, his eyes hooded and his jaw shadowed. She stepped back. He grabbed his keys off the counter, said something to one of his friends, gave Beth another look with those baby blues, and pushed open the door. She continued on to the table waiting for their food.

  Seconds later there was the noise of tires squealing, and an older-style silver truck tore out of the parking lot, exhaust billowing from behind. She turned to see if Vaughn would go after him, but he was drinking his coffee and talking to Thompson like nothing had happened.

  * * *

  The rush cleared out, and Thompson and Vaughn had left an hour earlier, leaving a healthy tip on the table. Mason was putting away glasses while Beth refilled ketchup bottles beside him.

  “There was a guy who came in with some friends this morning. When he saw the cops, he split. He wasn’t even here for two minutes.”

  “Jonny,” he said.

  The same Jonny whom Amber had mentioned? Hailey’s best friend. I’ve been talking to Jonny a lot since she ran away. We’re helping each other through it.

  “Is he in some kind of trouble?”

  “Hailey was sneaking out to party with him at the lake when she disappeared.” He let out a sigh, gave a shake of his head. “That girl burned bright, a real free spirit, you know? Like your sister. This morning, when I saw you over there, I remembered Hailey and Amber standing in the same place last summer.” He pointed to the end of the counter. “I could see them clear as day, then I blinked and they were both gone.” He looked back at Beth. “Sorry, kid. You have your own memories to deal with. You don’t need to hear more from this old man.”

  Mason moved off to help a woman standing by the cash register. Beth stared at the end of the counter, the empty stools. For a moment she could see the girls too, their shimmering shapes frozen in the molecules of the air, but then, just like Mason said, they were gone.

  * * *

  By the end of the week, Beth was being driven mad by the stagnant heat in her motel room, the constant murmur of other guests’ voices through the thin walls, toilets flushing, and the loud click of the ancient TV remote as she searched for a movie to watch. There had to be something happening on a Friday night. She put on a short sundress, lipstick, and walked across the street.

  The pub was around the corner from the diner, a narrow building with dirty windows. Cigarette butts littered the sidewalk outside, and when she pushed open the door, her nose was assaulted with the smell of sour beer. Dark and seedy. Perfect.

  She sat at the bar, ignored a group of men playing pool. One of them eyed her until it was his turn to take a shot. When the bartender came over—a gray-haired man who looked like he should be in a rocking chair somewhere, not slinging drinks—she ordered a glass of red wine and slid her ID across the bar. He barely looked at it before he slid it back.

  The wine was dry and tasted like it might have been made in a bucket, but one glass turned into two as she scrolled her phone and watched a baseball game on the TV. She’d missed dinner and the drinks hit hard. She staggered down the hall to the women’s washroom, kicked the door closed behind her, almost losing her balance in the process. She tried to read all the quotes and names carved into the back of the metal door, wondered about their lives.

  Before going back to the bar, she ran water over her wrists, held her cool hands against her cheeks, and fluffed her hair. Another coating of lipstick. For whom? No one, but she liked the routine. The normalcy of these small moments, even if it did take her two times to get it right.

  The man who’d stared at her while he was playing pool slid onto the seat next to her. Where you from, sweetie? Need some company? She ignored him until he muttered, Bitch, under his breath and left with the other guys. The bar was empty. So was her glass. She peered into the bottom.

  “Now, where did you go?”

  She slumped over the bar, rested her forehead against the warm bare skin of her arm.

  “Hey, are you falling asleep?”

  She looked up. Vaughn, dressed in a blue shirt, dark jeans. She squinted at him.

  “I’m of age.”

  “I know.” He sat on the stool beside her, motioned for the bartender, and ordered a beer. When he turned, his knee bumped hers. She shifted away. “You all right? This is a rough place.”

  “The motel was hot. I needed to get out.” The bartender brought Vaughn a beer from the tap, and after Beth held up her empty glass, he poured her another wine.

  “You’re staying at the motel?” Vaughn gave her another assessing look. She focused on bringing the drink to her mouth without spilling it.

  “For now.” The words came out as Forshnow, and she fought back a giggle. It wasn’t funny. Nothing had been funny in her life for a very long time.

  “You got some troubles back home? I seem to remember your parents saying you were going to school to be a lawyer.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She frowned at her glass, wiped her thumb over the condensation, realized she was spelling Amber’s name, and wiped it clean again.

  “Okay. We can just sit.”

  “You don’t have to babysit me.”

  “This town isn’t a good place for a young woman to be alone. I’m not just talking about the highway.”

  Beth frowned. “I’m fine.”

  “I know these local boys can seem harmless, but some of them … Take Jonny, for instance. I saw you two at the diner this morning. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “I’m not getting into anything.” Beth hadn’t even spoken to Jonny, and Vaughn was making it seem as though she’d thrown herself in his lap.

  “I suggest you keep it that way.”

  She didn’t like how he made it sound like an order. Joke was on him. Hadn’t he heard that if you tell a girl to stay away from a boy, it just made her want him more?

  “How long do you intend to stay in Cold Creek?” There was something in his voice, some sort of tone that slipped away from her.

  “Until I’m ready to move on. Is that breaking a law? Was I supposed to fill out a form?” She drained half of her wine in one gulp.

  His eyebrows lowered, shadowing his eyes. “I’m sure you city girls are used to a different sort of life, but in the North, we look after each other. And I like to know what’s what.”

  “You smal
l-town cops don’t have a lot else going on, I guess.”

  “You’ve got a smart mouth.” Vaughn was looking at her like he was waiting for her to apologize, but she figured she didn’t owe him anything. She hadn’t invited him to sit down. His expression shifted, turned calculating almost, and she felt a jolt. What had he read in her?

  “Do your parents know you’re in Cold Creek?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Dodge, deflect. She was getting good at that, and felt proud for a moment, until his gazed pinned her back down.

  “I can tell when someone needs help.”

  “I’m fine, but I should get back to the motel.” She looked away from him and cleared her throat. What was it with cops? Instead of worrying about her mental health, he should be finding the killer. Seemed to her that would be a pretty good antidepressant.

  He skimmed his hand across the back of her neck, rested it on her upper shoulder, as though holding her in place. She shivered, and he murmured, “Let me buy you another drink.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Beth had been sitting on the bed for an hour, cell in one hand, gun in the other, staring at the locked door. Her face was hot from crying, her eyes bloodshot. Water had made her stomach heave. Coffee hadn’t helped either. She’d gotten so dizzy in the shower she had to sit with her head bowed while she prayed that she wouldn’t pass out across the stained tiles.

  Her father picked up after two rings. “Beth? What’s wrong?” He was whispering, but her mother would never hear him. She slept until noon these days.

  “Sorry to wake you.”

  “No, no,” he said. “Call whenever you need.”

  “I’m having a tough morning.”

  Silence. Then, “Have you eaten? If you skip meals, your blood sugar will drop.”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “You have to take care of yourself, Beth.”

  She hugged her bent legs to her chest, squeezed her eyes shut, and focused on the sound of her dad’s breathing until the pains eased in her stomach, but the sour taste of wine lingered. She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Bitter regret with an undertone of dismal failure. She almost smiled.

  “Are you and Mom okay?”

  “God is taking care of us.”

  She didn’t know how to reply. How could she explain that she envied them for being able to turn everything over, but she also hated them for it? It shouldn’t be that easy.

  “If you came to church—”

  “I’m fine, Dad. It was just a bad moment.” She brightened her voice. “The internship is great, though. I’m making a lot of new friends.” She thought of Vaughn. The pub. He’d walked her home. He’d unlocked her door. What happened after? Had they talked? Had she cried? Worse? The first time she’d ever gotten blackout drunk and she’d done so in front of a cop.

  She’d woken up fully clothed, but her suitcase was a mess. Her purse dumped out on the small table. She had vague memories of hearing a car alarm at some point. Had she tried to leave the room? She imagined herself stumbling around, trying to get changed, and then giving up.

  “That’s good, tiger—one foot in front of the other.” A hitch in his voice, a clearing of his throat. “Don’t forget to get the oil changed in your car soon.”

  “I will. Thanks, Dad. I have to go now.” She rested her forehead on her knees. After a few moments she lurched to her feet. She had to get to work.

  * * *

  Vaughn came in for breakfast with Thompson and they sat in her section. She looked around for Mason, hoping to claim a sudden stomach flu, which wouldn’t be hard to fake. He was coming out from the kitchen. She stepped toward him, but at the same moment he saw Vaughn, made an annoyed expression, and abruptly turned back around. Resigned, she grabbed the coffeepot and menus.

  “Good morning, Officers.”

  Vaughn looked up with a pleasant smile. Would he say something? Would he admit that they’d seen each other the night before?

  “Morning, Beth. Coffee would be great.”

  “Sure thing.” She flipped over their mugs and poured them each one, flexing the muscles in her arm so that her hand didn’t shake. When she set down their menus, she glanced at Thompson. He was definitely staring at her. Jesus. What had Vaughn told him?

  Vaughn talked as they drank their coffees, and Thompson listened with a serious face. They lapsed into silence when she brought over their food, thanking her with brief smiles. It was clear they wanted privacy. She was relieved—and also wondering why Vaughn was blowing the entire night off. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. Maybe he escorted a lot of drunk girls home.

  She waited to clear away the plates until Thompson went to the washroom. Vaughn was texting on his phone. She thought he was going to keep ignoring her, but then he looked up.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Bit rough. Thanks for getting me back to my room.”

  “Don’t think anything of it. Just part of my job.”

  “I hope I wasn’t too much of a mess.”

  “Not at all. It’s an emotional time.” He got up from the table. Thompson came out of the washroom. Vaughn glanced at him. “Can you get this? I don’t have any cash on me.” He didn’t wait for Thompson’s answer before he said, “See you back at the station,” and walked out.

  Thompson passed her a twenty. “That should cover it.” He held her gaze for a moment, but she couldn’t read his expression. “Heard you met some of the locals last night.”

  So she was right. Vaughn had told him, and the way Thompson was bringing it up felt loaded. He was getting at something. “Not really. I only talked to the sergeant.”

  “You got back to the motel okay?”

  Beth frowned. It was obvious she was fine—she was standing in front of him. “Sergeant Vaughn walked me.” No way was she going to admit that she barely remembered it.

  “That’s good. If you ever need anyone else to talk to…” He held out his business card. “It’s got all my info. Cell number is on the back.” He slid his wallet into his pocket.

  She took the card. “Thanks.” When Amber died, Beth was furious that no cops had been patrolling that night. She’d told herself that the area was too big, they couldn’t cover every mile, every minute. Now she had two cops who didn’t seem to think she could cross a road by herself.

  * * *

  Rhonda frowned at her, looking disappointed. She stood on the other side of the registration desk. Today she was wearing a blue button-down printed with small palm trees.

  “Checking out already? Was there a problem with the room?”

  This was when Beth was supposed to explain why she was leaving and where she was going, but Beth felt the gaze of each victim on the posters lining the wall behind her in the breakfast room. She’d gone in yesterday for juice and a muffin, when Rhonda wasn’t working, and she’d been so shocked by the display she’d walked out empty-handed. Every woman who had ever gone missing or been killed in that area had her photograph neatly pinned on the bulletin board, with little cut-out hearts, poems, snippets of quotes, and angel wings.

  “No, no. The room was fine.” She slid her card over to Rhonda, pretended to be focused on her cell phone while Rhonda ran it through the machine.

  “Huh,” Rhonda said, and Beth looked up. Rhonda pressed some more buttons, then glanced at Beth. “Seems to be a problem. Insufficient funds.”

  “Can you try half?”

  Rhonda ran it through again. “Looks like that’s okay.”

  “I’ve got cash.” Beth pulled her tips from the week out of her purse, dumped them onto the counter. “That’s another one hundred. I’ll get the rest from the bank right now.”

  “Listen.” Rhonda’s voice turned confiding. “I get it. If money’s tight, we can work something out.”

  “Oh, no. It’s not like that. My last credit card payment just hasn’t gone through yet.” She waved her hand through the air. Like, you know, she’d been so busy. The thought of owing R
honda anything made her uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back.” Beth pushed out the door, walked briskly to the ATM at the truck stop. She winced when she saw her bank balance. She was barely making her student loan payment.

  She paid her motel bill, forcing herself to tell Rhonda that she appreciated her sensitivity and discretion during this difficult time, then she drove straight to the nearest secondhand shop. There she found a tent, a camping chair, pots and pans, a propane stove, water bottles, a cooler, and some storage containers. She bought the rest of her supplies at the general goods store, picking out whatever was cheapest. A thin sleeping bag, backpack, hiking boots, a compass that she didn’t know how to use, and bear spray that she hoped she would never have to use.

  She’d wanted to set up before dark, but by the time she picked up a few groceries and a six-pack of cheap beer the sun had already disappeared behind the trees. When she passed the billboard at the end of the highway, she couldn’t look at it, couldn’t stop wondering how many times Amber must have driven past the same warning. Did she think she was safe because she was in a car?

  Beth’s shoulders were tight, and her jaw clenched when she reached the campground. Here Amber had spent her last night. Here she had laughed, swum, and drunk with friends. Here she had kissed Hailey for the first time. Beth had been in her Vancouver apartment, unpacking her take-out sushi with the cell pressed to her ear, smiling as she listened to her sister describe the outdoorsy, quiet girl she’d fallen for. She picked me a bouquet of wildflowers.

  Beth hadn’t realized how dark it would be at the campsite, how the old-growth trees and foliage blocked out the starry sky, any hint of a moon. She bumped down the narrow gravel road.

  Campers sitting around propane fires turned to watch her, men with baseball hats and beers in their hands, families. She found an empty spot at the end of the campground and parked.

  With the engine still running and the doors locked, she reached into her purse and found her prescription bottle, twisted open the lid, and slipped a pill under her tongue. She waited, took long, slow breaths, thought of Amber. The lake is so clear and fresh. When I swim there, it’s like everything gets stripped away.