Don't Look for Me(33)

“Okay…”

“Promise me?”

“I promise,” he said.

Nic told him about the broken taillight, and how it was a good lead. She made it sound more promising than it was because she needed him to be all right. He seemed comforted by it, this shred of hope she’d given him.

Then he asked, “Did you ever find out what was behind that fence? If anyone looked there?”



* * *



Nic went up to her room. She found sweats and sneakers. Then back downstairs where she found Roger Booth at the front desk.

“Hi,” Nic said.

“Hello,” he replied. He was in a good mood.

“Are there any trails behind the inn? I wanted to go for a run,” she said.

Roger jerked his head back like the surprise had knocked him square in the jaw.

“Not really. The ground’s pretty rough. And wet. Why don’t you go on the road?”

“I used to run cross-country. I still run in the woods. The trails. How far back does it go—the property?”

“We’ve got about fifty acres. You could start training for a marathon if you want.”

Roger Booth had a sense of humor.

Nic turned and walked to the front door. Roger called after her.

“Wait. I was actually joking. It’s not safe out there. The bears are still active. And we’ve had sightings of wolves.”

“Seriously?”

Roger nodded. He was serious, but Nic didn’t care.

“You really want to go in the woods?”

“I really do. Besides, I want to check out that fence my father saw.”

“Fence?”

“You don’t know about it?”

“Not since I’ve been running the place. Far as I know, it’s just woods.”

Nic followed him through the door behind the desk. It led to an office, which had another door to the outside. There was a bluestone patio which was overgrown with weeds. Moss caked most of the stones and a rotten picket fence framed the square. Piled in the corner were an old, rusted-out firepit and some lawn chairs. On the far side was a shed.

“We use this in the summer. Or we used to anyway, back when we had more guests. Some nights, we’d be full up. Kids, parents, everyone sitting around by the fire at night.”

Nic could not imagine it. The state of disintegration, of disrepair—it was like a testament to the agony this town had endured since its economic spiral.

She followed Roger Booth to the shed. He opened the padlock, and then the doors.

Inside were some gardening tools and equipment. A John Deere lawn mower sat in the corner, thick with dust. A small generator was beside that. Tiki torches rested against a wall.

And hanging just above them was a row of shotguns.

“You gonna give me one of those?” Nic asked. “To shoot the bears?”

“You know how to shoot?” Roger asked.

“I missed that class at my private school.”

Roger smiled. “I was thinking more along this line.”

He handed her a small black canister.

“It’s just pepper spray. Problem is, you gotta get pretty close before it’ll work.”

Nic took the spray, examining the nozzle and trigger. Roger adjusted her into the right position. His hands were stronger than she had thought. His fingers long and lean.

“Like this,” he said. “Point and squeeze.”

“How far will it spray?”

“About six feet.”

Roger stepped away and led them out of the shed. He clicked the padlock back on the doors.

“So if I see a bear, I have to let it charge me and then spray and hope it stops?”

Roger nodded and smiled. “He might get in one good swipe.”

“Okay,” Nic said. “Better maimed than dead, I suppose.”

“Exactly.”

They walked around the fence where there was nothing but open woods. The trees were tall but bare. Nic could tell she would be able to weave through them.

Roger pointed toward the sun.

“Head toward the sunset. Don’t make any turns. When you’ve had enough, turn around and come straight back. That way you won’t get lost.”

“I’ll bring my phone. Just in case.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

Roger stood at the edge of the tree line.

Nic turned, took a few steps, then stopped. “Can I ask you something?” she said.

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Did you know a woman named Daisy Hollander?”

Booth stared blankly.

“Yeah,” he said. “She was a girl from high school.”

“Who disappeared?” Nic asked.

“Who told you that?”

“I just heard it around. Any idea what happened to her?”

“She left. Just like the rest of her family, one by one. People do that around here, you know.”

Nic watched his face, the nonchalance of his words and the tone of his voice not matching his expression.

“You should get going before the sun is gone.”

He disappeared behind the fence. She heard the door to the inn open and close. Then she started to move.

Her legs felt heavy. Her breath shallow. She was tired and she hadn’t eaten—her body was protesting now. But the pain felt good. She ran through the trees, watching her feet carefully with every step so she didn’t place them down on a branch or rock. It was an obstacle course and it did exactly what she remembered from her days racing cross-country. The physical pain, the mental preoccupation—all of it a welcome distraction.