AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We walk.
Then, as we close in—
Rory stops, her body seeming to freeze.
“Ror?”
“I… I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“We don’t have a choice. Only forward, remember?” I try to sound calm despite the pounding in my own chest.
No response.
“Breathe, Rory. Come on.”
She inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. Is her throat as tight as my own?
“Good?” I ask.
“Not really, but I’ll make it.”
We buried the key all those years ago at the base of a ponderosa pine after we’d carved a tiny symbol into its trunk to mark the spot. It was a simple half-moon made to look like an animal could have scratched it into the bark.
We needn’t have bothered. Neither of us would ever forget this spot. It was carved into our minds as the half-moon was carved into the trunk of the tree.
“Now or never,” I say under my breath. I dig my shovel into the hard earth.
Rory joins me, neither of us saying a word. We buried the key in a metal file box about four feet deep. The dirt is packed tightly after ten years. Colorado is known for its hard clay soil.
It’s difficult work, but Rory and I are used to difficult work. You don’t grow up on a ranch without learning how to dig efficiently.
Thud, go our shovels each time we make another dent in the earth.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Until—
Clank.
“Eureka,” Rory says sarcastically when her shovel hits metal. “I probably dented it.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
We both continue shoveling the dirt away until we can retrieve the soiled metal box. Green metal. An old file box we found in the basement of our parents’ house. It was empty, so we figured it was okay to take. No one ever said a word about it.
“Your arms are longer than mine,” Rory says.
I nod and reach down to retrieve the box.
“Now or never,” Rory says.
I click the box open.
And I gasp.
It’s empty.
The key is gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Donny
Dale and I pull into Uncle Joe’s driveway at eight p.m. We exit the car and knock on the front door. It opens, and Brock stands there.
“Hey, guys,” he says. “What’s up?”
Brock. Just what we don’t need.
“Is your dad here?” Dale asks.
“He’s out in the pool, having a swim. Mom’s still in Grand Junction with Aunt Jade.”
Aunt Mel being gone is an unexpected boon, but Brock being here? So much for any of this getting done tonight. We can’t bring Brock in.
“You going to invite us in or what?” I say.
“Since when do you need an invite? Get your asses in here. I’m about to join Dad in the pool. Is everything okay? Is there news on Uncle Talon?”
“Nothing new,” Dale says. “He’s doing fine. Should be released tomorrow or maybe over the weekend.”
“What about who did it?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I saw Hardy today. They’re still looking into it.”
“Don’t tell me,” Brock says. “The two of you are going all vigilante to try to solve the crime yourselves. Which is why you want to talk to my dad.”
Dale and I meet each other’s gazes in an understanding glance… Good idea. Let’s go with it. Uncle Joe’s known to be a hothead. This will work.
“The thought crossed our minds,” I say slowly.
“Mom’ll have a cow if Dad goes off all half-cocked,” Brock says. “I’m staying here with him while Mom’s in Grand Junction, at her request.”
Great. So no chance of getting Uncle Joe alone.
“Come on out back. We can go for a swim and talk to my dad. And you can tell me the scoop on Rory Pike,” Brock says to me.
“Rory? You mean Callie. I’m with Callie.”
“I know that, assface.” He laughs. “I heard Rory broke up with Raine.”
“She did. Don’t tell me you—”
“Have designs on the hottest woman in Snow Creek? Uh…yeah.”
“She’s bisexual,” Dale adds.
“So? Last time I checked, bisexual means she likes guys too. Also, last time I checked, I’m a guy. Plus, the whole thing is pretty hot if you ask me.”
I resist an eye roll. “She’s four years older than you.”
“My mom’s two years older than my dad. You’re six years older than Callie. Ashley’s ten years younger than Dale. So what? Besides, I’m not saying I’m interested in marrying her.”
“Don’t,” I say.
“Why not?”
“It would upset Callie if you screw her sister and then disappear.”
“Who said anything about disappearing?”
“For God’s sake,” Dale interjects. “Dad has been shot and the two of you are bickering about women.”
He’s right. “Sorry, bro. Let’s go see Uncle Joe.”
“Did you guys bring your trunks?” Brock asks.
“Of course not,” I retort. “Normal people don’t travel with swim gear everywhere they go.”
Brock chuckles. “No one ever accused me of being normal. No worries. We have lots of extra.”
“I’m not wearing one of those package-baring Speedos you wear,” Dale says dryly.
Brock shakes his head, scoffing softly. “We’ve got regular trunks too. For God’s sake.”
Thirty minutes later, Dale and I are suited up, and I’ve completed ten laps across Uncle Joe’s pool. I’ve got to admit, it helped take the edge off.
