by K. C. Crowne
“That’s it?”
“Well, of course when there’s a mysterious new person in town, People start saying he’s hiding something.”
“Hiding something?” I parroted, snorting. “That sounds a lot like a rumor.”
“That’s the impression everyone’s getting. He sure as hell seemed like it. I wasn’t just trying to hit on him, you know. I wanted to get to know the new guy in town, right? But he was cagey. Shifty, almost.”
“Good,” I said. “Means he’ll keep to himself.”
She arched her eyebrows, the metallic sounds of Parker’s fork and knife against his plate filling the air. “Wow,” she said. “You’re really serious about this alone in the woods thing.”
“Of course I am. Parker and you, that’s all I need.”
Coffee in hand, I turned toward the window and looked out into the woods, another breeze waving the branches. I didn’t know how, but I had a feeling my new, simple life in Silver Pines was about to become complicated.
Hunter
I woke up with a gasp, sweat soaked through my gray V-neck. When I came to, realizing I was in the bedroom of my new place, my heart slowed.
But the images from my dream were still fresh in my mind. I remembered the shot, the smell of freshly singed gunpowder in the air, the pain in my gut where the bullet hit.
That pain…it was like nothing I’d ever known – like a jagged blade right into my guts.
It was just a dream. A dream I’d lived through, sure, but a dream, nonetheless.
Fucking hell, I thought. Get a grip, Hunter. You’re as far away from all that bullshit as you can get.
But that didn’t make it any less real. I was in the waking world, but I could still smell the sulfur.
I reached over to my nightstand and picked up the cheap, burner flip-phone I’d bought on the way into town. It wasn’t much, like a phone pulled straight out of 2002, but it was all I needed. I pressed the button on the side, the screen lighting up and letting me know it was well into the morning. I couldn’t tell; the blackout curtains in my bedroom did their job.
A grumble sounded from my mouth as I plopped my size-thirteens onto the floor and heaved my ass out of bed. I stumbled to the bathroom, regretting that last shot of whiskey at the bar in town last night.
When I was in the bathroom, I grabbed onto the sides of the dingy sink and looked into the mirror. I hardly recognized myself, exactly as I’d planned. My jet-black hair was shaggy, the mane wild and unkept. My beard was longer than I’d ever kept it before. The eyes, sharp and blue, seemed dull, like something was missing.
My shape was still the same built and powerful physique I’d earned in the gym, back when I’d given a damn about such things. On my lower-left stomach was a wild scar, twisted and gnarled.
I’d moved here to become someone else, so seeing a stranger in the mirror sat just fine with me. I ran some cold water over my face and popped a few Aspirin before stepping back into the bedroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans and went into the living room, the sun coming in on deep orange beams. The room was nearly empty, nothing but a handful of cardboard boxes stacked in the corner, containing the few things I owned.
I didn’t get a chance to hit start on the coffeemaker before by phone buzzed in my pocket. A check of the screen revealed it was the one person whose name I’d bothered to add to my contacts. Hugh – the only friend I had.
“Yo,” I said, putting the phone to my ear and starting the coffeemaker, the machine gurgling to life. “What’s up?”
“How’s life in the middle of nowhere?” he asked.
“Only been twelve hours or so, but it’s suiting me well, have to say.”
Hugh Ford was an old buddy of mine from back in the day, back when I was still on the force, when I was actually still a member of society. I spent years in the LAPD, and he was about the only cop I knew who wasn’t as crooked as a barrel of fishhooks.
And he was the only person on this Earth I could trust.
He lived in Seattle now, a couple hours’ drive away from Silver Pines. We’d both retired from the force. Hugh had started a private security firm, using his skills to make some serious money in the private sector.
“I don’t know about this, Hunt.”
I opened the fridge, taking out the Styrofoam container from the bar last night that held the rest of my burger and fries. The fridge was empty aside from that. I set the container on the counter, opened it, and plucked out a cold fry, popping it in my mouth. It tasted like rubber, but I chewed and swallowed it anyway.
“We’ve been over this,” I said, leaning back against the counter and stretching my back. “Last thing I want is to be living around people. Can’t handle the fucking city anymore.”
“I don’t know if I’d consider the way you’ve been living for the last year ‘handling the city,’” he scoffed. “You had an apartment outside of town that you never left. And now you’re severing the last little bit of thread connecting you to civilization.”
“Now, that’s not true,” I said, casting an eye to the coffeemaker. “I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?”
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air. I wasn’t a man who gave much of a damn about luxury, but I did enjoy a good cup of joe.
“Yeah, only because I’m the last person who goes out of his way to keep in touch.”
“No one’s putting a gun to your head.”
He sighed, and I could sense he wasn’t in the mood for the same conversation we’d had a million times, the one where he tried – and failed – to get me to rejoin the world, to come work at his firm. Fat fucking chance. The way I lived suited me.
“Anyway, I’m coming in for lunch. You still wanna meet?”
“How about you grab some burgers and meet me at my place.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s what you want to talk to me about? My red meat intake?”
He chuckled. “Wiseass. No, not that. It’s about your new digs.”
“So talk.”
“Rather do it in person. I checked online,” he said, not giving me a chance to argue. “There’s a diner called the Red Kettle downtown. Meet me there at noon.”
“I suppose so. See you then.”
We hung up, and at the moment I slipped my flip-phone into my jeans pocket the coffee was ready. I poured myself a cup, letting the mug warm my hands. The place wasn’t much, and the chilly air from outside was already getting frigid. But I’d have more than enough time on my hands to remodel and update the cabin.
Not like I had anywhere to be.
I took my mug and stepped out onto the wooden porch, grabbing a flannel shirt on the way out and slipping it over my big arms. It was quiet – just what I wanted. The Douglas Firs loomed overhead, a light fog floating around the trunks. Everything seemed to be wet. Now and then a branch would crack in the distance from one woodland creature or another.
I lost myself in the scene, draining my mug and going in for another. I killed another hour or two sorting through my boxes, and when it came time to meet Hugh, I grabbed my wallet, stepped into my boots, and headed out.
The drive into town was down a weaving, unpaved road. It took about thirty minutes to get into the city, if you could even call Silver Pines that. The downtown was a small crisscross of streets lined with small businesses, not a chain restaurant or big box to be found. And I liked it.
I spotted the Red Kettle, the diner on the corner of the main road near the park, the interior busy with customers, waitresses in blue and white outfits zipping here and there. I parked, climbed out of my trunk, and went in.
The moment I stepped over the threshold, the door chime sounding out as my big boots touched the floor, every pair of eyes was on me, the din of conversation fading to a silence. Like everywhere else in town, the place was done up in black-and-orange Halloween décor. Otherwise, it looked like every small town café in America.
“Good morning,” the hostess, a young wo
man likely not out of her teens, said. “Table for o—”
I spotted Hugh over her shoulder, seated at a booth in the corner. Not waiting for the girl to finish, I strode past. She stopped mid-sentence, her wide eyes on me as I moved toward my only friend.
Hugh, like me, was tall and built. But unlike me, he didn’t look like he hadn’t seen civilization for years. He was clean-shaven, his dirty-blond hair slicked back in a neat part. He wore trim, dark slacks and a white button-up pressed and tucked. His shoes were polished and clean.
We looked like total opposites, two men who’d taken very, very different paths in life. But it was necessary for him – he had to look the part of professional small business owner.
“There’s the big man,” he said, getting up.
“Sit,” I said. “I don’t need any more attention on me.”
I turned, noting that nearly everyone was still staring. I flicked my eyes from one person to another, my gaze narrowed. The moment I made eye contact with someone, they’d glance back down at their food sheepishly.
He sat, and I did too. We were both huge and muscular, our bodies barely fitting in the booths.
“I see you’re already making an impression,” he said, amused.
I scoffed. “Last thing I want. Still think we should’ve met at my place.”
A small smirk formed on his lips. “Why, so we could have some coffee, maybe split the jar of mayonnaise in your fridge?”
I wasn’t laughing.
“Come on, bud,” he said, reaching across the table and giving my arm a swat. “Lighten up. It’s good to see you.”
I could still feel eyes on me, and I didn’t care for it. “What’s up?” I asked. “And why were you so insistent on meeting in public?”
Before he could answer, the waitress arrived. “Hi, gents.”
“Coffee,” I said, not looking up at her. “And that’s it.”
“Coffee for me, too,” Hugh said, glancing up. “And two turkey clubs please.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then get it to go,” he said. “Let me treat.”
I knew Hugh well, so I didn’t bother arguing with him. He was as stubborn as I was. I grunted, and the waitress wandered away without a word.
“What’s your plan, Hunt?” he asked. “Eat tree sap up there or something?”
The cafe was packed, and I was starting to feel ill at ease. I shrugged my big shoulders and answered, “I’ll get supplies when I need them. Maybe a drink at the bar every now and then. But I went for a beer last night and people couldn’t stop staring. And some woman was chatting my ear off.”
“That’s what people do in a town like this,” he said. “I know you moved here to be alone, but in places like Silver Pines people know each other, mind one another’s business. And they talk.”
The waitress brought the coffee, and I wrapped my hand around the mug, waiting for Hugh to go on.
“I stopped by the general store before coming here to grab some gear for the trip, and guess what the clerk was talking about with a couple of customers?” He sat back and squared his shoulders.
“Something tells me I don’t need to guess.”
“There’s still a brain under all that hair,” he said with a grin. “And yeah, you don’t. They were talking about the new guy in town, the guy built like one of the mountains around here, as unfriendly as they come.”
“They can talk all they want. I don’t give a shit – I’m not here to make friends.”
“Yeah, you don’t need to tell me twice. But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about – fitting in.”
“Fitting in?” I repeated, clenching my jaw. “Why the hell would you think I’m interested in something like that?”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re interested in something like that. People in this town are going to talk about you no matter how much you don’t want to admit it. Unless you’re planning on living in a cave, hunting deer or some shit, you need to make at least some inroads with these people.”
I scowled, knowing he was right.
He raised his palms. “Now, I’m not saying you need to be the belle of the fucking ball, here. But just put in enough effort so people don’t have to worry about you murdering them in their sleep, you know?”
He had a point. If I were a totally unknown element, I’d be more of interest to the townsfolk, ironically. I had to dispel the mystery around me, at least a little.
“You got some ideas?” I asked, my voice gruff.
He nodded. “Sure do.” He took out his phone and flipped through the pictures. One of them was of a mechanic’s shop. I could tell by the firs in the background that it was a local joint. “This is Sam’s autobody. It’s just down the road, and there’s a sign in the window saying they’re hiring.”
“You want me to get a job?” I asked, a little surprised.
“What’s so strange about that?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to people,” I told him. “I don’t want to be around them. That was the whole damn point of coming here.”
“I know, I know. But all you need to do is pick up a couple shifts a week, and you go from scary-ass potential murderer in the woods to Hunter down at the autobody place. It’s basic psychology – you’ll be known as a useful person, a guy who helped fix Mrs. Henderson’s Subaru or whatever. Not to mention it’s a behind-the-scenes job. You won’t need to be social.”
I sighed, shaking my head and looking away. I watched the low wind set the tops of the firs in the distance to waving.
“You’ll make some extra cash, too.”
“I don’t need cash,” I said. “I’ve got that squared away.”
“Fine, fine. But it’ll give you something else – a purpose.” He continued when I frowned. “Hunt, I know why you’re here, and I get it. I do. But you can’t just hole up in that cabin and waste away. You’ll become someone different.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.”
“Maybe it is, after what you went through. But even if you’re dead set on this whole loner thing, then this is the best way to do it. And I know you’re a whiz with machines – always have been. You can’t tell me this doesn’t have some appeal.”
“I’ve got plenty of projects to work on at the cabin. Place is a dump.”
He sat back, draping his big arms over the back of the booth. “Two shifts a week. Hunt, I know you know this is the right call.”
The waitress arrived and placed the sandwiches in front of us. I was hungry as hell and didn’t waste any time demolishing one of the halves.
“And it wouldn’t kill you to show a little warmth to some of the townsfolk. Maybe grab a coffee now and then, bullshit with the barista.”
“Don’t push it,” I said, wiping my mouth with the napkin.
He let out a snort-laugh. “Fair enough.”
We finished our meals, and Hugh picked up the check. When we were done, we headed out to the parking lot. Hugh stopped at his silver Land Rover, looking around.
“Nice place,” he commented. “A man could have a good life here, if he went about it with the right mindset.”
I said nothing as the cool, autumn wind picked up.
“Two shifts a week,” he said, slipping on his aviators. “You know it’s the right call.” He reached over and grabbed my upper arm, giving it a friendly squeeze. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Not a chance I’m going to let you totally vanish from the face of the earth.”
“Don’t I know it. See you around.”
He nodded before opening the door to his car, climbing in, and driving off.
And I was left alone.
Just how I wanted it.
Mandy
“Alright, Mom – geez.”
Parker looked so freaking adorable that I could hardly stand it. I’d taken him into town the day before, the two of us stopping by some of the local business and picking out clothes for his first few weeks of school. I didn’t have the money to go too crazy, but I wanted my
boy looking right for his first day.
“Aw, let me take another picture.”
“You already took a million pictures.”
“Right, and I’m going to take a million more. Do you know how many times a mom gets to watch her son go to his first day of first grade?”
He scrunched his face, the question clearly throwing him for a loop.
“Just once,” I said. “And I want to remember it.”
Parker was dressed in a sharp pair of dark blue jeans with black Nikes and a blue-and-white striped button-up shirt. An Iron Man backpack was on his back. It wasn’t the full-on costume he’d insisted upon, but it was close enough to make him happy. With his fresh, new clothes and his hair slicked back, he was about the cutest thing I’d ever seen.
“Smile!” I said, holding up my phone.
“Like this?” With that, he screwed up his face, closing one eye and sticking out his tongue. Without thinking, I snapped a picture before I had a chance to correct him.
“Park!” I said.
He laughed, running off to grab a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter. My first instinct was to take another picture. But the longer I stared at it, the more I realized it was actually kind of perfect. That was Parker – cute and smart and rebellious. I decided to keep it.
But the longer I looked at it, the more I was keenly aware of the fact that Michael wasn’t there to share in the moment. Just another one in the long list that he’d never see.
It hurt like hell.
I cleared my throat and stood up. “Alright, time to go! Wash that grease off your hands and let’s get moving, cutie!”
“I’m not cute,” he reminded me, coming into the living room. “I’m tough.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, happy that Parker always seemed to know what to say to cheer me up – even without him knowing. “You will be someday,” I said. “But for now, you need to be a good student, and to make some friends. I bet there are lots of cool boys and girls in class who can’t wait to get to know you.”