I sank onto the bench seat, my legs still a little unsteady. My hands were shaking now that the adrenaline had nowhere to go, and I curled them into my sleeves, embarrassed by how obvious it was.
Aggie noticed anyway. She noticed everything.
She pressed a warm mug into my hands a minute later, her fingers lingering just long enough to steady me. “Drink,” she said. “Slow.”
I sipped. The tea was too hot at first, but it helped settle my nerves. I was with Aggie, and I was safe.
Aggie sat across from me, her sharp eyes softened with concern. “Alright,” she said gently. “Tell me what made you spook like that.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “That’s the problem. Everything looked normal.Toonormal.” I let out a shaky laugh. “I know how that sounds. Plus, I got creepy vibes from a customer today. It was nothing. Vibes? What’s wrong with me?”
“It sounds like instinct,” she said calmly. “And I’ve learned not to argue with that. Vibes can be real, honey.”
That surprised me. “You’re not going to tell me I’m just tired? Or being paranoid? That Travis has me all worked up, and I’m being silly?”
“Oh, you’re tired,” she said. “And Travis is still a dipshit. But that doesn’t mean you’re being silly. All that time with him messed with your head. Learning to trust yourself again isn’t going to be easy.” She took a sip of her tea, gaze thoughtful. “I heard a car earlier,” she added. “Slow. Didn’t recognize the sound of it, and neither did Gerald. He didn’t like it much—kicked up a hissing fuss. Could’ve been nothing. Could’ve been someone lost. But who gets lost out here?”
My grip tightened on the mug. Aggie watched my hand with a knowing look. She didn’t comment on it.
“I’ve been listening,” she said then, carefully. “To your podcast.”
I stilled.
“I know,” she added. “You know I know it’s you. You’ve known since I told you to dial down the personal descriptions.” A small, even smile. “But I mean after that. I think you know what I heard, honey.”
I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I set the mug down. “Aggie?—”
“I’m bringing it up because I want you to know that I’ve heard what you haven’t been saying out loud.” She folded her hands on the table, unhurried. “Something happened. Something that scared you so badly you took that episode down. And since then you’ve been—” she tilted her head slightly, “—careful. In a way, you weren’t before. I was waiting for you to talk to me. I should have just barged in and made you. Instead, I just kept watch, told Matt to keep an extra careful eye on this place, and kept my mouth shut. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I shouldn’t have kept it all to myself. I saw something,” I said. “By the river.” The words came out steadier than I expected. “I don’t know what it was; there were people talking. I couldn’t see clearly. And then there was a red light in the trees. It could have been a camera or part of a flashlight. I have no idea, but it wasn’t nothing.”
Aggie nodded once, slowly. Not surprised. That was the part that caught me; she didn’t look surprised.
“You’ve had people circling this place for months,” I said. “Eileen’s offer. The slow cars. You’ve been watching too.”
“I’ve been watching for longer than that,” she said quietly. “Since before I said anything to anyone.” She reached across andpatted my hand. “I didn’t want to alarm people. And I didn’t know what I was watching for yet. I’m still not entirely sure.”
The lamp on the narrow shelf glowed faintly. Gerald shifted on the bench seat, resettled, and tucked his paw back under his chest.
“I don’t know who they are,” I said. “The people I saw. I’ve been trying to figure it out and I just—” I stopped. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know yet,” Aggie said. “You just have to not face it alone.” She squeezed my hand once and released it, sitting back. “So. You’ll tell Matt for yourself. And you’ll let me know if anything else feels wrong.”
“I wish I didn’t have to tell Matt,” I admitted. “He’s done enough for me already,” I murmured.
“Oh, honey?—”
“I mean, you know how my parents are. He took care of me way too much, and sometimes I feel like I need too much. Plus, I worry about you, too. Here in this Airstream by yourself.”
She looked at me for a moment, and something in her expression was both fond and a little exasperated—the look she reserved for people she loved who were being earnest in the wrong direction. “Becca. I have lived alone on this river for eleven years. I have asked men twice your size to leave this property, and they have left.” A beat. “I also have Gerald, who is not a weapon, but he’s deeply unsettling to strangers. You know that.”
Gerald did not look up, but he heaved out a sigh and leaned against my leg, purring loudly as if pleased at the thought that he intimidated strangers.
“You’re not going to stop worrying about me,” Aggie said, “and I’m not going to ask you to. But I worry about you, too.” She picked up her mug. “So we watch out for each other. And we’ll stop keeping things to ourselves. That’s all. And, Becca, yourbrother loves you. I think he’d be hurt if you didn’t confide in him.”
I looked at her, the white hair pinned up, the steady hands, the sharp eyes that hadn’t missed a thing in as long as I’d known her.
“Okay,” I said. “I know he loves me, and you’re probably right. I?—”
