Lost, Found, and Forever

by Victoria Schade

  “Okay, this is big,” Griffin said as he studied her. “You look . . . not like yourself.”

  She glanced away, embarrassed that her weakness was written on her face.

  “Hey,” Griffin said softly, tapping his foot against Justine’s knee. “What’s going on?”

  He needed to know. Justine took a deep breath and started talking.

  “I’m a runner. I’ve always loved running. And when I adopted Spencer it was perfect because he loved it too, and we were a great team. It was our thing; we had our little routines, our favorite trails. Rexford is an amazing place for running, and we took full advantage of it.” She paused and smiled at the purity of the memory. “With Spencer by my side I forgot that I was RWF.”

  “What’s that?” Griffin had stopped eating and his half-finished burrito sat in his lap.

  “‘Running while female.’ You get catcalled, harassed. It’s a thing. All women runners have to deal with it. But once I started running with Spencer, it stopped. He’s not a scary-looking dog, but just having him with me changed the way people viewed me. It was like running with a bodyguard. So I got sloppy.” She swallowed hard.

  “I don’t like the way this sounds,” Griffin said slowly. “What do you mean?”

  “I started running at odd times. Too-late times when it was getting dark. Or I took trails that not many people knew about.” Justine nodded as if she was accepting the blame for her actions. “It was stupid, but Spencer made me feel invincible.”

  They both looked out at the dog, who was standing with his head back and his eyes closed, inhaling the wind.

  “I’m talking too much. This is dumb.” She waved her hand to signify she’d finished. “Whatever, I’m fine.”

  “No, not whatever. Please keep going, I want to know.”

  She’d only had to tell the whole story a few times; to the police, to her mom, then to Ruth and Sienna. When people asked her about the incident, she deflected everything to Spencer, which was enough to derail most conversations to something she could cope with.

  Justine took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. She was going to tell Griffin everything.

  “Okay. One day, one night, actually, we’re out for a run on my favorite trail. It was just getting dark, and I was finishing up, heading back down the hill. By then Spencer was doing better off leash so he was in the brush doing his own thing. He always darted between me and the woods as we ran. I trusted him to explore. I had my earbuds in, and I was totally in the zone.” She gestured behind her head. “I used to have really long hair. I’d wear it in a braid.” Her face fell and she stopped talking abruptly.

  “Are you okay to keep going?” Griffin asked gently.

  She nodded and sat up a little straighter, as if reclaiming some of her power. “I always wore my hair in a braid. I loved the way it felt, hitting my shoulders. It kept me in rhythm. So that night, I’m coming down the hill, all up in my brain as usual, and I feel this yank on the back of my head. And it scared the shit out of me; it almost took me off my feet. It hurt! I whip around and there’s this guy standing behind me, smiling, like he’d just done something funny.”

  Griffin’s jaw clenched and he shook his head slowly.

  “I take my earbuds out and I’m like, ‘What the hell was that?’ And he just stands there, grinning at me. And that’s when I realize that it’s nearly dark and I’m alone on the trail and this guy isn’t right. He was in a baseball cap but he wasn’t in running clothes or even trail clothes. I remember he had on, like, business shoes. He was this hillbilly-looking guy, jacked-up teeth . . .” She took a shuddering breath. “I tell him to fuck off and walk away thinking he’s just some weirdo. But then he runs up behind me again—and I can still hear the way his footsteps sounded in those stupid dress shoes—and he grabs my braid again, only this time he doesn’t let go.”

  “Justine, I’m so sorry.” Griffin reached out and put a gentle hand on the top of her sneaker, the only part he could reach without contorting himself. “This is awful.”

  Spencer made his way back to the car and stood on his hind legs, surveying if there was enough room for him to jump in back with them.

  “Hey, Spence,” Justine said, placing a grateful hand on the side of his face. It was all the invitation he needed, and he leapt in back in a single bound. Griffin quickly put the remnants of their lunch into the plastic bags as Spencer tried to find room to lie down.

  Having him near gave her the strength to keep going. Justine cleared her throat and continued. “The guy is holding on to my hair, pulling me backward, and I start screaming. I think I was just screaming ‘Help’ at first, but then I started screaming for Spencer.” Hearing his name made him look up at Justine. “The word is barely out of my mouth and he’s crashing through the forest as fast as he can. Oh my God, he sounded like a bulldozer.” Justine’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her dog. “And then Spencer saved me.”

  “What . . . what did he do?”

  A tear slid down her cheek, but she still managed to smile at the memory. “What didn’t he do? Spencer came out of the woods and fucking launched himself at the guy. He looked like one of those trained attack dogs. He grabbed on to the guy’s arm and all I can hear is Spencer growling and the guy screaming. Obviously, he let go of me and I back away, and Spencer is just . . . dangling off of him, like his arm is a toy. There’s blood on the guy’s arm, and I remember thinking, Good, better his blood than mine.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to run away as fast as possible, so I scream, ‘Out!,’ which is Spencer’s drop cue when we’re playing tug. And he lets go of the guy and then comes sauntering over to me like he’d just been gnawing on a rope toy. But he’s got blood on his mouth.”

  “Holy shit, Spence saved you,” Griffin said in a quiet voice. He leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on Spencer’s back. “I can’t believe he did that. I mean, I can believe it but . . . holy shit. He saved you.”

  She nodded. “He did. We ran down the trail as fast as we could. Spencer wouldn’t leave my side. The police came, they took my statement, they called Spencer a hero, and they never caught that motherfucker.”

  The air in the SUV was cold.

  “Wow.” Griffin paused. “I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless.” His eyes were soft as he took her in. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Justine.”

  “Me too.” She let out a strained laugh. “I barely run anymore. I’m so out of shape.”

  “Stop. You look amazing.”

  Griffin was gazing at her with the same expression he’d had in the hallway in his apartment. And at the farmers’ market. And lately, anytime he looked at her.

  Like she was precious.

  Spencer interrupted the moment by asking Justine to pet him by crashing his paw into her cheek, causing her to whip her head back and bump it against the window.

  “Ouch, Spence. Thanks.” She rubbed her head.

  “We’re not off to a great start on this trip, are we?” Griffin asked as he activated fifty percent of his dimples.

  “We can stop talking about it. Now you know everything about the two of us. It’s not something I like to talk about, obviously, but I thought you should know.” She shrugged. “I’m still working on Spencer’s dude-in-a-cap reactivity. He’s usually fine, but certain things still set him off. The guy’s running was probably what did it this time.” She didn’t tell him about Spencer’s guy-making-threatening-gestures-at-his-costar reactivity.

  “Hey, I don’t want to move on from what you just told me yet. Are you, like, talking to someone about it?”

  “Therapy? Yeah, until the woman said I need to consider how my actions put me in jeopardy.” She snorted. “I’ve beaten myself up enough about it; I don’t need to pay someone to pile on. And my boyfriend, Nick, did the same thing.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Initially he also
sort of blamed me too, and then he started making me question everything I did. Like I couldn’t be trusted to make any good decisions. Which kept reinforcing the idea that I was to blame for what happened on the trail, and anything else bad that happened to me. Even if it was just a low-dollar day at Tricks & Biscuits.”

  “Fuck him,” Griffin said angrily. “And fuck that therapist. They’re not all like that, though. Maybe you should think about trying again, with a new therapist? I’ve heard that people can have PTSD from stuff like what you went through.” He stopped talking with a sheepish look on his face. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you what to do.”

  “You’re not telling me what to do; you’re suggesting. And you might be right. Maybe I should find someone new.” She shoved the taco wrappers in the bag.

  “Hey.”

  “Yeah?” Justine stopped cleaning up the lunch mess.

  “If you ever need to talk, I’m always here. I just want you to know that.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  The three of them got out of the back of the SUV and stretched and yawned as if they needed to shake off whatever darkness had settled over them. Spencer took one final pee on a pole and they all climbed back into the car.

  “Ready?” Griffin asked, searching her face like he was looking for residual sadness.

  “Ready.”

  chapter thirty

  Ah, hell,” Ted muttered as he watched a playback on his tablet with Anderson beside him.

  It was the angriest thing Justine had ever heard Ted say, which meant the location shoot was going very badly indeed. She cocked her head to eavesdrop harder.

  The rest of the crew had been there since early morning, shooting the scenes where Anderson met up with the bootleggers, whose liquor-loaded car had broken down on the way into the city. The combination of missing equipment, vintage cars that didn’t work when they were supposed to, and unexpected air traffic that they had to wait to pass set the entire day hours behind schedule, which meant that Justine, Malcolm, Griffin, and Spencer had nothing to do but sit in a nearby tent under heat lamps in their jackets and hats, drink too much coffee, and watch the bad moods around them percolate. They’d been on set long enough for Griffin to flip from wide-eyed fan to jaded critic, although he did stand taller every time Anderson came within twenty feet of him.

  “I can’t keep giving it to you at this level, Ted,” Anderson grumbled. “I’m exhausted.”

  “I understand you are, and I apologize. This has been a rough day for all of us,” Ted replied. He sighed and rubbed his fingertips against his eyes. “Lighting is still having some issues, so it’s going to be a while before we’re ready for the river run. Take five in your trailer.”

  Justine knew that “five” probably meant “fifty-five.”

  Malcolm leaned over and stage-whispered, “If the trailer is a-rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

  “What do you mean?” Justine asked.

  “Taylor’s been in Anderson’s trailer all day.”

  “What?” Justine practically shrieked. “When did that happen?”

  Griffin did a double take. “Wait, she’s here? Taylor is with Anderson? But I thought they hate each other.”

  “Set life does strange things to people,” Malcolm said. “Everybody knows about it, but no one’s talking about it. If you ask me, it’s just a way to pass the time.”

  Justine considered how Monty would take the news that her daughter was sleeping with a man old enough to be her father. It wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Based on the schedule, Justine had told Griffin they’d be done by five o’clock at the latest, and it was already creeping toward six without an end in sight.

  Malcolm blew out a long puff of air. “Gonna be a late night, friends. You regret coming along?” He leaned forward in his chair to catch Griffin’s eye.

  “Who, me? Are you kidding? This is fascinating! But I am getting a little bored with all the downtime.”

  “Welcome to the glamorous world of entertainment.” Malcolm chuckled and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

  “Have you been doing this a long time?” Griffin asked.

  “Too long,” Malcolm answered. “This job breaks people, but I’m still here. Good thing I’m single.”

  “But there’s got to be some fun parts,” Justine added. “You get to work with people like me, after all.” She grinned at him.

  Malcolm watched the various crew members in headlamps moving equipment. “Yep, the people can be the very best part or the very worst part. I’ve seen it all.”

  “Okay, give us some gossip!” Justine clapped her hands together and startled Spencer, who was resting at her feet working on a food-stuffed Kong she’d brought to help him cope with all the waiting. He’d already gone through a full bowl’s worth of meal ration in the big red rubber toy.

  “Yeah,” Griffin added. “Who’s the most famous person you’ve met?”

  “Tom Hanks,” he answered without even pausing.

  “Very cool.”

  “What was he like?” Justine asked.

  “Consummate professional. That man knew how to work. Nailed his lines every time. Plus, he remembered everyone’s names and was generally a decent human to all of us. And let me tell you, that’s not always the case.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Come on, you can’t put that out there and not tell us who’s an asshole,” Griffin said with a smile.

  “Okay, don’t repeat this.” Malcolm looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Rebecca Dawson.”

  “What?” Griffin and Justine screamed in unison.

  “But that’s my girl,” Justine said. “She’s America’s sweetheart.”

  “Try America’s cokehead.”

  “No way!” Griffin said in disbelief. “But she seems so down-to-earth.”

  Malcolm shrugged. “That’s what publicists are for, I guess. But she was surly as hell to everyone on set. Her character had a kitten in the movie, and she wanted nothing to do with it. I mean, what kind of freak doesn’t like a kitten?”

  “You’ve just crushed my fandom. She’s off my list,” Justine said, making a swiping motion in the air. “Malcolm, I could listen to your gossip all night.”

  “The way this day is going you might have to. But enough about me. I want to know about this dude over here.” He pointed to Griffin. “What’s your story? You a trainer too?”

  Justine snorted softly.

  “I’m just a boring corporate drone. I don’t have any exciting stories, unless you want to hear about being a thought leader in my company’s post-sales life cycle.”

  “Wha . . . ?”

  “I’m kind of a corporate trainer. Once top-tier clients buy our customer-relationship-management software I embed with them and help with the deployment and training.”

  Malcolm nodded. “I get it. You travel a lot?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, but it can get tiring.”

  “How’d you two meet?” Malcolm asked.

  Griffin and Justine glanced at each other and he raised an eyebrow that asked, Do we really want to go there?

  “A mutual friend,” Justine answered. Griffin looked down at Spencer and winked.

  “Okay, that’s always a good way to start off. And how long have you been together?”

  Heat spread on her face. “Oh, no, no. We’re not dating. Just friends.”

  “Really?” Malcolm drew the word out. “Um-hm, okay. And which hotel are you friends staying at tonight?”

  Justine sat up straighter, ignoring the innuendo. “We’re not staying.”

  “Mistake number one,” Malcolm replied. “This is going to go even longer than we thought. Water adds time in the best of circumstances. Add an overtired crew and you’re looking at
two more hours at least.” He settled back in his chair. “You negotiate for overtime?”

  She shook her head. “Day rate.”

  “Well, this ain’t day.” He pointed up at the dark sky. “They got you for a steal. Better luck next time.”

  A production assistant in a wool poncho ran into the tent. “We’re getting close. Can you swap out Ford’s collar now?”

  “Oh really? Okay, great.” Justine took the brown leather collar out of her pocket, Spencer’s costume when he was having adventures with Izzy. She made a kissy noise and showed Spencer the collar, and he stood up, ready to get dressed and go to work.

  “What can I do?” Griffin put his coffee cup down and hopped out of his chair.

  “Legally? Nothing,” Malcolm answered for Justine. “You’re not even supposed to be here.”

  “But I signed all of that nondisclosure paperwork. I think I agreed to donate blood on one of those forms.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You’re not assigned as his handler on this project, so as far as my paperwork goes, you don’t exist. She’s Spencer’s sole handler.” He pointed at Justine.

  A flicker of disappointment flitted across his face. “Okay, I guess I’ll wait here, then.”

  “Malcolm, he can at least walk to the starting location with me, right? Before we roll?”

  “That’s fine, but he needs to get back here before they start.”

  “You got it.”

  Justine pulled on her hat, and the three of them walked out of the bright lights and warmth of the tent. Luckily, it was one of those weird fall-weather spells when the evening felt warmer than the day. She switched on a flashlight and they made their way to the spot near the river, where the crew was putting finishing touches on the lighting. The area was probably beautiful in the summertime, but in the dark the bare branches over the rocky terrain looked skeletal. It was the sort of place where you might stumble upon a dead body washed up from the inky, bottomless river.