“Crazy.” She popped the locks. “Get in.”
Noting the passenger seat was already taken by a dark-haired woman, I climbed into the seat behind Gretchen and said, “I’m not supposed to get in the car with strangers.”
“Your mother tell you that?” she asked.
“She did. She also said redheads were trouble.”
“Your mother sounds wise,” the dark-haired woman said.
The typical jolt at the mention of my mum struck a chord but I had learned to hide the reaction over the years. I had also definitely learned not to bring her death up unless I wanted to face the awkward pitying faces. I forced a grin and extended my hand. “She was.”
The passenger was strikingly beautiful with emerald eyes and short jet-black hair. She turned around to shake my proffered hand. “I’m Suzie Samuels.”
“Sanders Olsson. Pleasure to meet you.”
“I like your accent,” she said.
“I like yours too.” My typical response.
Suzie turned to Gretchen. “Old friends?”
“Nah, we just met the other day when I drove him into town. He’s gonna be here for a bit for work. I thought he should get to know the locals.”
Suzie said, “Ah,” and gave her friend a look that could only be described asWhat exactly are you up to? Which was exactly the look I’d felt myself giving during my own brief interactions with the redhead. I was starting to understand that Gretchen LaRoe didn’t do anything without thinking four steps ahead.
After only another two minutes of driving, we slowed onto a turnoff I would have never thought was an actual road. Just a less dense area of forest. I probably would have made the walk but was not so secretly glad for the rescue.
“I don’t suppose I could hitch a lift back later?” I asked with no shame at all. “These roads are treacherous at night, I imagine.”
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Gretchen said.
Her friend shot her another suspicious look.
“This movie isn’t some deviant thing is it? It’s starting to feel like the start to a bad slasher flick. Two way too beautiful women. Scary backroad in the middle of nowhere. I better check my phone for signal. The second I hear banjo music, I’m running for it.” I teased but, honestly, what had I gotten myself into?
The two women threw their heads back and laughed.
Not encouraging to say the least.
The pseudo-road opened up to a field filled with about fifty cars. On the farthest edge, backed up against the dense forest, was a large screen propped up on wooden stilts that were peeling paint. A few food trucks lined the perimeter and people near the front picnicked on blankets or out of the back of their cars. The families on blankets relieved me of any weird stress I’d been feeling.
“See, we’re here. No masked murderers,” Gretchen said.
“Not yet,” I mumbled.
“Why don’t we get out and walk around a little. Oh, Patty is here. I wanna see if they’re still doing open mic night.”
“I’m not getting out of this car.” I scratched at a new bump on my neck. “The mozzies are eating me alive out there.”
“Mozzies?” Suzie asked.
“Mosquitoes,” I explained. “I’m too sweet. I can’t help it.”
Gretchen rolled her eyes and Suzie raised an eyebrow. My usual charm fell a little flat on these two. Maybe I was off my game. I so desperately wanted to ask if they knew Roxy Kincaid but worried about showing my hand. I glanced around the field for the shuttle bus that carted over the Lodge guests. If she was running this event …
“Looking for someone?” Gretchen turned to face me, arm braced on the passenger seat.
“Nope. Just checking out the sights.”
