Dark Roads

by Chevy Stevens

  “You been drinking?”

  “Nope.”

  Vaughn shut the door and stood close to Jonny, nose to nose. “One fuckup. That’s all I need.” Vaughn said the words low, but Beth heard them and cleared her throat. Vaughn waited a second, still staring into Jonny’s eyes, then turned away and walked to his truck.

  He looked over his shoulder at Beth. “Keep your valuables locked up. All sorts of thieves around here. They’ll rob you blind.”

  Vaughn backed up and came within inches of hitting Jonny with the bumper. Jonny didn’t even flinch or look in his direction. His gaze was focused on Beth.

  She dropped her shoulders when she heard Vaughn’s truck hit the highway, the engine changing pitch. The guys at the other campsite began talking. Music filled the air. Jonny glanced at them. She wondered if he was upset about Vaughn’s insinuation. Did he think she believed it?

  “Wow. Vaughn’s a barrel of laughs, huh?”

  “More like a barrel of bullshit.”

  Jonny walked over to the picnic table, lifted the lid up on the stove, fiddled with a wire on the ignition, and screwed the propane tank on tight. He took a lighter from his pocket and silently showed her how to light the stove. Soft blue and gold flames flickered.

  “You want me to put something on the grill?”

  “Sure. You hungry? I have some hamburgers.” She flipped open the cooler lid. He glanced inside, noticed the clear bag of scraps on top, and gave her a curious look. She laughed.

  “Those are for a dog I saw roaming around this morning.”

  “Dog?”

  “Yeah, a shaggy black thing who stole my breakfast.”

  He lifted his head and looked at her, surprised. “One blue eye?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Sure. I know the dog. He’s a stray. He hangs around the campground sometimes.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone caught him?”

  He smiled. “He’s fast and tricky. Trust me, he’s not suffering, though. People leave food out for him and he knows how to survive on his own.” He pointed to the cabins, then met her eyes. “He’s not a pet. He likes to be free—and he’ll bite if you try to catch him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I tried and almost lost my hand.” He rubbed at his palm, then turned back to the stove. “You have any cheese to go with the hamburgers?”

  * * *

  They sat opposite one another at the picnic table. The lantern casting a glow. She liked that she could see his eyes—blue with dark lashes. They’d be too pretty if the rest of him weren’t so masculine. The strong planes of his face, the square jaw. He hadn’t shaved, his hair messy when he took off his cap and ran his hands through it. She poured him a vodka and Coke—and thought he might say no, considering Vaughn’s warning, but he drank it easily. She matched him drink for drink. They didn’t talk about much at first. Just safe topics. Where his family lived, what he did on the farm, how he raced dirt bikes. If Jonny noticed she wasn’t saying much about herself, he didn’t comment. Only thing he said was, “You have a university sticker on your bumper.”

  “Yeah. I was going to be a lawyer.” Stupid vodka. That came out too easily. Did he hear her say it in past tense? She steered the conversation back toward him. “Vaughn hates you.”

  “The Iceman.”

  “Is that what you call him?”

  “Everyone does. Because of the way he looks.” He made a circle around his face. “And his attitude. He’s hassled me ever since Hailey disappeared. Before that too.”

  “You were a suspect.”

  He stared at her curiously. Not insulted. “You seem to know a lot.”

  “Mason told me.” She didn’t want to tell him that Amber had also spoken about him. He might feel self-conscious. The vodka was making her voice thick, huskier, her arms and legs warm, the muscles loose. They’d started leaning across the table toward each other. His knee brushed against her, and he didn’t move it away. Male voices, laughing at the other site.

  Someone yelled, “Where’s Jonny?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “I have to load up one of their bikes. I’ll be back in a minute.” He untangled his long legs, walked around his truck, and disappeared into blackness.

  She fiddled with her cup, stared around. Everything looked different in the dark, but she wasn’t scared with Jonny nearby. It was obvious Vaughn was wrong about him. He wasn’t a killer. He couldn’t be. She knew it the moment she saw the pain that came over his face when he said Hailey’s name.

  The roar of a dirt bike startled her. She stood, watching the other site, which was now lit with headlights. Jonny was astride a white bike, his legs on the ground. He revved it a few times, shouting back and forth with Andy, the dark-haired guy who’d given her coffee this morning. Jonny looked relaxed and easy. Like he spent a lot of time on a bike. He backed it up, walking it out with his legs, then rode it toward his truck. He stopped the bike, dropped a ramp from the back, and drove it up.

  Beth stared at his hands as he anchored the bike with straps in quick, assured movements. The men she knew could text and negotiate while hailing cabs under an umbrella in the Vancouver rain. She used to think that was confidence, but Jonny had it in spades.

  “Did you just steal that?”

  His white teeth flashed in the dark. “I’m the bike mechanic around here. Hailey and I used to—” He broke off, the smile fading, and turned around to slam the tailgate shut. “I’m going to crash with my buddies tonight.”

  Beth looked at the other site. The guys were standing around their propane fire ring. She felt Jonny watching her as he brushed his hands on his jeans.

  “Thirsty?” she asked him, holding up the bottle.

  * * *

  They sat closer this time. Beth didn’t know who moved first, but somehow they ended up side by side. Jonny’s arm felt warm pressed against hers, their legs touching. They’d been playing cards. He was fast, with a good poker face. She hadn’t won yet. She laughed and set her last cards down. Rested her head on her arms.

  “Ugh. I have to go to bed.”

  “I’ll wait until you’re locked in safe.” He’d already walked her to the outhouse. Stood outside and whistled a song, then balanced her when she came out and tripped over a root. Steadied her drink. Spun the cap back on the Coke bottle so it didn’t go flat. She noticed all those things. Noticed that he had a little dent at the top of his lips, that he smelled like wood and earth, but somehow in his own unique combination that wasn’t like anything else. He had a lazy way of looking at her, his eyelids half-mast, but the blue would light up when he was telling a joke. When he laughed, he’d clutch at his chest, his head back, showing his tanned throat. He had a good voice. She closed her eyes a couple of times, just to hear the purr of it coming up his throat. Liquid-smooth. Her own personal bedtime story.

  “You can stay in my tent.” She lifted her head. “Wait. You don’t have any blankets.”

  He gestured over his shoulder. “I’ve got a sleeping bag.”

  She laughed and gently poked him in the arm. “You came prepared.” He met her eyes with a questioning look, like he was trying to figure out if she was flirting. Was she? Maybe. “Please. I’d feel safer—knowing you were close by.”

  “You sure? The Iceman says I’m a suspect, remember?”

  “I can tell you’re a good person.” He looked startled and got to his feet so fast she wondered if he was leaving, but he just walked toward his truck. He grabbed a sleeping bag and tossed it into the tent. Still crouched with his hand on the zipper, he looked over at her.

  “I’m not that good.”

  Beth curled into the darkness of her car. She’d left the windows down a few inches for fresh air and could hear him tossing and turning in the tent, the soft whisper of nylon. She imagined he was uncomfortable on the ground. Maybe he’d give up and sleep at his friends’ site, but after a while the rustling stopped. He’d fallen asleep. She stared at the car ceiling, thinking.

>   She opened her door. It creaked loudly in the dark. The moon was full, and she didn’t need her flashlight. The other site was quiet. The music had died hours ago. She soft-stepped her way over to the tent, felt for the zipper, and then realized Jonny had left it open. Was it in case she needed him? Or maybe he’d hoped for this too.

  The moon was shining through the mesh roof, turning his shape to shadowy blue, highlighting the planes of his face. He was bare-chested, only his bottom half in the sleeping bag. Jeans tossed to the side. One of his arms was up over his head. He was breathing deeply but not snoring. She crept up beside his body. If he woke suddenly, would he lash out? For a strange moment she wanted to see what he looked like angry. She wanted to see all his expressions.

  She hovered her finger over the indent above his top lip, then slowly, slowly brought it down, let it settle in the warm groove.

  His eyes flared open. His hand gripped her wrist, and she gasped. He loosened it as soon as he recognized her, but he didn’t speak a word.

  She unzipped the side of the sleeping bag, slid in beside him, feeling the heat of his legs against hers. Her hair fell over his chest. She breathed in the masculine scent of his shoulders, his neck, jawline, scraped her cheek against the stubble. He shivered. She pressed her lips to his. He didn’t move. Not for one count, two, three. Then his hand slid up her arm and into her hair.

  * * *

  The tent was already warm when she woke, birds loud in the trees nearby. She was hungover, with gritty eyes, a dry mouth, and a headache that made her squeeze her eyes shut and pray that the birds would shut up. Jonny’s arm was under her cheek, his chest against her back.

  “Man, I need water.” His voice startled her, and she flinched. He reached over her for his boxers and pulled them on, then his jeans. She sat up, holding the sleeping bag around her chest, and noticed a cigarette pack had fallen out of his pocket. She picked it up, looking at him.

  “You smoke?”

  He paused from where he was unzipping the tent, and glanced over his shoulder at her, the good humor now gone from his face. “No. I quit. It was a thing between me and Hailey. She never wanted me to smoke, but I always carried a pack, and she’d always wreck it.”

  The way he was looking at her, she suddenly felt like she was holding something deeply personal, a relic, and, judging by the hint of a flush on his face, he regretted telling her.

  She handed him the cigarettes and reached for her duffel bag. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  After she was dressed, she crawled through the tent opening. He was leaning against the picnic table, watching the lake, and turned with a smile. She wanted to smile back, but she was a different Beth from last night. Now, in the bright morning sun, and sober, it was all too hard.

  “You’re not working today, right?” He squinted at her. “We could hang out.”

  She looked at him, startled. She must have told him last night that it was her day off. Sure, they could hang out. Go for a swim. He’d show her around. They could get to know each other sober. What music they liked, what made them laugh. Maybe he’d tell her about some of the people in town. He’d trust her and share memories. But then what? It couldn’t go anywhere.

  “I’m not staying in Cold Creek for long.”

  He gave her a questioning look. “Okay…?”

  He didn’t understand, and she wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t used to a girl giving him the brush-off, or if he just didn’t get it. All she knew was that she felt panicked to get him away from her. If he stayed a minute longer, she would invite him back into the tent.

  “Last night. It was just a thing … but I didn’t mean…”

  “Right.” He nodded, his eyes shifting to somewhere over her shoulder.

  “I like you.” She hesitated, trying to find the words. “I’m not good at people.”

  “That’s a new one.” He shifted his face into a smile, farm-boy white teeth flashing, and she still couldn’t tell if he was genuinely unfazed or faking. “No worries. I have to fix the dirt bike today anyway.” He spun around and strode toward his truck. She took a step. She wanted to call out, Stop. Let’s do something, but he was opening the door and then drove off with a small wave.

  She busied herself around the campsite, sweeping away the fir needles that had fallen on everything, organizing supplies, tidying her clothes in the tent. The air still smelled like Jonny, some indescribable scent. Skin warmed in the sun, cedar trees, a hint of fresh-cut grass. She caught herself staring at where they’d slept, and abruptly crawled out of the tent.

  The dock looked inviting, the wood glowing nearly white in the morning sun. She made a coffee, grabbed a magazine she’d bought at the store, and walked to the dock, but she only skimmed a few pages. Mostly she stared at the cabins on the other side and sipped her coffee, thinking about Vaughn showing up at the campground. The visit from the dog. Anything other than Jonny. Once, she thought she heard something in the bushes and wondered if the dog had come back. When she spun around, she caught a glimpse of something small scampering up a tree trunk. Chipmunk.

  The woods were so dark and dense. It was hard to see anything farther than a few feet. The dog could be watching her right now and she wouldn’t know. It was a creeper’s paradise. Beth looked around, thinking. Amber and Hailey were together at the lake a couple of weeks before Hailey disappeared. Shannon Emerson had probably been at the lake all the time. What if the common denominator wasn’t the highway, but the campground? All the local teenage girls hung out here. Someone could be watching them swimming, undressing in their tents.

  Her sister’s car had been found down a logging road. How did the killer know she was parked there, unless he had followed her from the campground? He even could have been at the memorial. Shannon had disappeared from a field that was only a few miles from the campground.

  Everyone was so sure the killer was a trucker, but there could be someone new. Someone who lived off the grid. Vaughn said lots of people camped out of bounds, and the murders always happened in the summer. It could be a drifter, a mountain man who hated people and society. She envisioned an unkempt, bearded survivalist type with wild hair and evil eyes.

  How did Jonny know for sure that the dog was a stray? He might belong to this man, who would have to drive into town for supplies. He probably had a truck or camper that could travel the logging roads. Her breath locked in her throat at the sudden image of a slow-moving vehicle, her sister standing alone by her car. Beth made herself think of something else, anything else. The sandy beach in Hawaii. The aqua-blue water.

  Water. River water.

  The night before, Jonny had told her that the lake was fed by a river that ran through the mountain. Then he pointed up behind the campsite and said something about good fishing.

  If someone was hiding in the woods, parking near a river would make sense. It would provide water for drinking and bathing, fish for food. There would be signs of human activity. An old campfire, footsteps in sand, beer cans, paper, or a piece of aluminum wrapping.

  Maybe her empty cereal bag.

  She didn’t have to hike far. She’d look around and see if she could find any paw prints to follow. Back at her campsite she scrawled a note and left it on her windshield. Gone to hike the river. She stared at the note. What if Vaughn came back? The idea of running into him in the middle of the woods was as disturbing as discovering any mountain man. She crumpled up the note.

  She didn’t want him looking for her.

  CHAPTER 22

  Beth shoved things into her backpack—binoculars, a bottle of water, granola bars, an apple, the compass, and the bear spray. Then she slathered sunscreen on her bare legs and arms. Her boots were new, the leather smooth and stiff, so she pressed a Band-Aid around each heel and did a few lunges, rising on her heels, then down on her toes, trying to make them more flexible.

  She entered the woods where she’d seen the dog disappear, and followed a narrow trail, ponytail swinging, shoulders back. It wasn’
t long before her face and neck were sticky with sweat. She’d taken off her shirt, tied it around her waist, and was now hiking in a black sports bra—she kept the gun in her backpack and the bear spray hooked to her front belt loop.

  She stopped to whistle a few times, called out, “Come here, boy!” and clapped her hands—she’d read that loud noises scare off bears, but it hadn’t seemed to worry the dog back at the campsite. She was hoping he’d recognize her voice and come looking for more food.

  She drained the last of her water within the first hour and had to keep stopping to adjust the straps of her backpack, which were rubbing her shoulders raw. Her legs and calves were beginning to turn pink—even in the woods the sun streamed through the branches like iron swords and she’d sweated off all the suntan lotion. Her shorts kept her cool, but she hadn’t thought about how her skin would get scratched and that the forest was thick with blackflies. Soon her arms and legs were streaked with blood.

  The underbrush got even more dense as the trail narrowed, brambles and thorns on either side, fir trees crowding together. She was dying of thirst. She knew the river ran through the forest somewhere off to the west. She held her compass, turning one way and then the next. The arrow wavered at W. She glanced up, saw the path she’d have to follow. Was it even a path? She readjusted her backpack and hiked on. The air grew cooler the deeper she got in the forest.

  She heard something in the distance. Wind? No, it was the rush of the river. Now she was walking faster. When she reached the top of a hill, she could see through the trees and down into a gulley. She stopped when she caught a glimpse of dark green water. That was the river?

  She’d imagined the river to be wide and flat, with a sandy shore. Not a wild undulating beast that cut its way through the land. The banks on either side were sheer rock and steep gravel inclines. Snarled logs crisscrossed over deep pools and underbrush lined the river, forming an impenetrable wall. No one could camp there. Maybe the river flattened higher up.