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Before talking so much to Cleo about it, he hadn’t really noticed how much like his father he was. The same whimsical spontaneity that kept life exciting even when money was tight. Taking risks had never bothered him. At least not the way it seemed to haunt Cleo. There was something there. Something under the surface that he could tell was gnawing at her. The past she was alluding to sounded traumatic, and he wanted to be able to help in any way he could. But if she didn’t open up, he’d never be able to.
“You have a plan for us to eat soon?” Cleo asked, checking her watch in the repetitive way she did when she was starting to get anxious.
“Not really, but if you’re getting hungry, let’s pull off.”
“Pull off where?” she gestured at the vast open fields that had the most glorious mountain backdrops he’d ever seen. “This is all farmland. We’ve been driving for like four hours, and it all looks the same.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
She smiled, reluctantly agreeing. “It really is like a painting. I can see why people live out here.”
“And they have to eat somewhere. So we’ll eat where they do. I saw a sign for some kind of camping area. We must be coming up to it soon.”
“And you think a campsite is going to have a place to eat? I think people usually pack food when they go camping.”
“I guess we’re about to find out,” he said, gesturing toward the pull-off and something unfamiliar breaking up the pristine landscaping in the distance.
“What is that?” Cleo asked, leaning to get a better look. “Are those tents? Not camping tents. They look like what the FBI puts up when they stumble on the burial ground of a serial killer.”
“Now that would be exciting.” He jerked the car off the road toward the path leading to the splattering of white tents. She wasn’t wrong about what they looked like, but he was sure it wasn’t going to be something gruesome. But if it was, what a story that would be.
“We can’t just drive over there,” she said, waving her hand frantically. “What are you doing?”
“Exploring. Let’s go see what it is. How bad could it be?”
“It could be a makeshift meth lab. Or a government secret location we’re about to expose, and then who knows what will happen? Or it could be a cult, and once we’re over there, they won’t let us out.”
“How exactly did you learn to produce so many worst-case scenarios in five seconds flat?”
“It’s a gift.”
“Look, there are people there. Vehicles. It’s not going to be something crazy. But it could be something interesting.”
She tossed up her hands as though she were giving up but kept her eyes fixed on the destination as they closed in.
There were ten or fifteen vehicles parked around the eight or so white tents that were flapping in the wind. A flurry of people moving around with intention. Nick parked the car next to one of the vehicles and turned off the engine.
“You’re just going to walk over there?” she asked urgently as she tugged on his sleeve. “It could be a cult.”
“You really think a cult would take me?”
“True,” she said, letting him go. “I better come with you, so you don’t say anything too stupid.”
“Is that your job?”
“Full time. No days off.”
She was on his heels as they moved toward the tent with the most people in it. When he rounded to the front, he couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t a cult or a serial killer’s burial ground. It was science. And the coolest kind.
“Paleontologists?” she asked, gripping his arm in excitement. “Are they digging up dinosaur bones?”
A woman in a large canvas hat and linen shirt smiled at them. “Not today. Just some other fossils. Are you with the tour group?”
“No,” Cleo answered, cutting him off before he could try to lie his way into some fun. “We were just passing by. We didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No disruption at all. I’m Hunter. Yes, that’s really my name.” She extended her leathery hand for a shake. The gap between her teeth and the wrinkles around her mouth were full of character.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Nick. This is Cleo.”
