He Started It(73)

“Mildewed water?” Portia says.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t explain further.

Once all our things are picked up, we stop at the path and take one last look. The area is as pristine as we found it. You’d never know anyone was here.

“Come on,” Portia says. She leads the way, Eddie goes next. I’m last.

“These road trips are so screwed,” Eddie says. “We always lose people along the way.”

Indeed.

The path out is uneventful. We don’t talk until we get to the car, which is right where we left it. Nothing looks amiss, there are no flat tires, and I hear the doors unlock when Eddie hits the button. Even the chirp sounds perky.

Two more days. That’s what I’m thinking. Two. More. Days.

The first time, I had no idea how many more days we’d be on the road, or how long it would take to reach the ocean. It didn’t matter after Nikki ran away, because we had to go to the desert. The ocean had to wait.

I talked about the desert like it was a town. Eddie never told me I was wrong or stupid, which should have tipped me off. Geography was never my strongest subject. Maybe Eddie didn’t know or maybe he just kept his mouth shut. Grandpa knew, though. He never said a word, just let me go on and on like there was a place called Desert.

We don’t talk about the desert this time. We’re all too busy looking at our phones.

I check up on Cooper and then scan through my e-mails, looking for any updates on the job cuts at work. I have an e-mail from Sandra, who says there are so many rumors flying around it’s impossible to know who will be cut next. I starting typing an e-mail back, thanking her for trying to keep me in the loop, when Eddie’s voice makes me jump.

“What the hell.”

I look up. He has just opened the back of the car, and the lid to the hidden compartment is open.

Inside, the wooden box. Grandpa’s ashes are back.



* * *



–––––

If you could bring someone back to life by staring hard enough, Grandpa would be with us again. That’s how long and hard we stare at that box.

“Impossible,” Eddie says.

No. Not for Nikki. I already know she was here last night because of the phone.

“Convenient,” Portia says.

Eddie turns to me. “Felix left last night. You think he might’ve done it?”

This is the single worst thought Eddie has ever had. “Why the hell would Felix take the ashes and then put them back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you married a psycho?”

“He’s not a psycho.” He’s just dead. He couldn’t have done this.

Portia steps between us. “Has to be the guys from Alabama. They’re still messing with us.”

“Either that or it’s one of us,” Eddie says.

We all look at one another until one of us breaks. It’s me, because you can’t stand around and do nothing forever. Eventually you have to get on with it.

“Are we going to stare at those ashes all day?” I ask.

Eddie and Portia exchange a look that clearly says, She’s being a bitch because her husband left.

I can work with that.

Eddie closes the back compartment and we load our bags in. We all managed to roll our bags down the path, except Eddie. As far as I can tell, none of the wheels broke, either. He shuts the back just as Portia says, “Shotgun.”

Shotgun?

She climbs right into the seat next to Eddie, ignoring the fact that we now have two empty rows in the back. Plenty of room to stretch out and sleep, just as she’s been doing the whole trip. Now all of a sudden she wants to be in the front.

I sit in my usual seat, right behind Eddie and now Portia. It doesn’t feel right at all.





There’s nothing in southeastern Oregon. I don’t mean that in a sarcastic way, either. It’s true. Once you hit I-95 south, there’s a whole lot of nothing until you hit the Nevada border. A beautiful drive, to be sure, but at this point I’ve had my fill of scenery.

Last time, it was the most tedious drive in the world because all I could think about was finding Nikki. She had money to travel and stay in a motel. Nikki had stolen all the cash from Grandpa’s wallet.

“She could’ve taken a bus,” Grandpa said. “Tickets are cheap.”

Nikki would do that. She was smart enough to figure out that a bus was her best option to get to the desert. Assuming she hadn’t called our parents. She might have, since she had been talking about it not long ago.

But would she?

I spent a lot of time thinking about that in the car because it distracted me—for a minute—from blaming myself. I never admitted it was my fault to anyone, certainly not Grandpa or Eddie. They might have tied me up, too.

It was when we were in the woods. That part was Grandpa’s fault. He sent me with Nikki so she could pee. Would it have been inappropriate for him to go with her? Yes. Eddie, too. I bet Grandpa considered all of that, especially because of what Nikki had accused him of doing with Portia. So he sent me.

By then, we had finished eating and had just started on our cocoa. Nikki’s hands were tied up again.

“Beth, don’t you dare untie her,” Grandpa said.

As soon as we got into the woods, Nikki told me to do exactly that. “I’m not going to run,” she said. “I just want to pull down my own pants.”