AllFreeNovel
Share Us
twenty-two
Hobbs felt an unusual weight pressed against his side. In his dream, he was stuck in the bottom of a pit, half-buried in dirt. Pops stood at the edge of the hole, staring down at him with a drunken squint in his eyes, his old work boots kicking a shower of sunbaked dirt to rain down on Hobbs’s face. The dry dirt sounded like pebbles hitting glass, which made no sense. It was one of those dreams where, at the last second, Hobbs knew he was dreaming and gasped awake with a relief so fierce it left him shaking.
The back of his neck was sweaty. In fact, his whole body was sweaty. Hobbs tried to roll over, but bumped into something soft. Gracie, molded against his side, peeked up at him and whapped her tail.
“Why are you in my bed?” Hobbs grunted.
Gracie gave a little whine from the back of her throat.
“I don’t even like you,” Hobbs insisted.
She stared at him with those tawny eyes that looked just like Gemma’s. The image of Pops in that dream, standing over the pit and glaring down at him, flooded his mind. As his mind cleared, Hobbs saw the gray sky from his window. He hadn’t pulled the shade last night and the little balls of ice pelting the glass should’ve been rhythmic and soothing. Reluctantly, Hobbs ran a hand over Gracie’s head. Her wagging got more eager, her tail whapping in double time.
George’s big moony eyes suddenly appeared, looming over the top of Hobbs’s head. Hobbs made a startledgahsound and sat upright. George scattered. No wonder he was sweating bullets, with a dog on one side and a cat wrapped around his skull. “You two are out of your mind,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face. “You’ve got a perfectly good woman in the other room who actually wants your sorry butts and yet you keep annoying me.”
At the mention of Hannah, Hobbs remembered what she had told him last night and the dream about Pops made more sense. A weight bogged down Hobbs’s shoulders, heavy as the dirt Pops had been kicking into his dream grave. Remembering the flurried text exchange with Victor did nothing to lighten Hobbs’s mood. Victor had set out to immediately hunt down Timbley and make sure he was still in Omaha, and Hannah, who had waited three days to tell Hobbs, had locked herself in her bedroom from the stress of their rapid-fire questions. Through the door, Hobbs could hear the sewing machine humming all evening.
Found the SOB. Still in Omaha. Didn’t approach. Will keep tabs.
That was the text waiting on Hobbs’s phone from Victor. Jesus. What time had Victor got up this morning? Nebraska was two hours behind Virginia and Hobbs’s watch read eight thirty. He’d slept in, without meaning to. He blamed Gracie. He petted the dog’s head again and the weight on his shoulders eased up a little. If Timbley really was texting Hannah, at least it wasn’t too late. If he was still in Omaha, he could be stopped. Victor would make sure of that.
Hobbs found his sister in the nook off the kitchen, alone at the table, her chin in her hand while she gazed out the picture window at the ice that had coated the grass and trees. They sparkled like a fairy tale. A steaming cup of tea sat in front of her, the tea bag squished on a spoon, the smell of cinnamon in the air, the box with the bear on the front open on the table.
“George and Gracie miss you,” Hobbs said, noting that the pair had followed him down the hall.
Hannah looked up at him with big, sad eyes that reminded him of her youth. How many mornings had he sat her at a round oak table, much like this one, her fine hair uncombed and standing up with static and her big blue eyes full of protest about going to school, a bowl of half-eaten Froot Loops in front of her, the milk turning pink from the food dye? “They sneaked into your room again, didn’t they?”
Hobbs sighed. “They can’t very well sleep with you if you keep your door shut. What were you sewing all night?”
Hannah nodded at a stack of blankets that Hobbs had missed somehow. About five of them, in various colors, the size of baby blankets, folded up in a stack. They looked bright and soft. “I got a bag of scraps at the Salvation Army. I used up a lot of the flannel.”
Hobbs grabbed his gym hoodie, slung over the back of a kitchen chair, and pulled it over his head. Gracie was dancing by the back door to go out and Hannah hadn’t made a move to acknowledge her. “What are you going to do with them?”
Hannah shrugged.
“I see.” Hobbs stuffed his feet into his sandals, but at least he had socks on. “Finish your tea. We’re meeting Sean at Delaney’s bike shop this morning. Tabitha’s working the counter, so he can talk to you both and get all the information he needs about those text messages.”
“He’s not going to be able to do anything.” Hannah kept staring out the window, maybe watching the cardinals that were all over Hobbs’s bird feeders. Hobbs didn’t do much in the way of landscaping, but he did like to watch the birds outside this window. The cardinals—either the bright red males or the cinnamon-and-honey-colored females—and the dogwoods in bloom in the spring, with their creamy white or pink flowers, were his favorite things about Virginia.
“It can’t hurt to talk to him. He’s a really good detective. And a friend.”
Hannah finally tore her gaze from the window. She looked Hobbs up and down. He’d jumped into the gray sweats that were tossed at the end of his bed and an old sweatshirt. “Great outfit,” she said, her eyes resting on the socks and sandals.
“At least someone is dressed to take the dog out,” Hobbs shot back, eyeing Hannah’s bare feet. “Finish your tea.”
Hannah made no move to lift her cup, and as Hobbs stepped out into the icy rain with an inseparable dog-and-cat pair that he didn’t want, he couldn’t help but have that dream enter his mind, the glare of his father as Hobbs lay in the bottom of a pit, dirt pouring like desert sand over his face.
The shop was empty of everyone but Tabitha when they arrived. The streets had been deserted and the drive over slower than usual as Hobbs felt his truck’s tires slide a little over the ice. He’d texted Sean and gave him the opportunity to reschedule, but Sean had been unmoved by the weather’s show of strength. Triple M Classics was warm inside and smelled like fresh coffee. Tabitha was sitting much like Hannah had been at the breakfast table, chin in her palm, but with her face in a book that lay spread out before her on the counter.
“What’re you reading?”
Tabitha glanced up, smiling at Hannah, big and genuine. She stuck a register receipt in the fold of her book and flipped it closed, so they could see the cover.Proficient Motorcycling: The Ultimate Guide.
“Working on that Badass List, I see,” Hobbs said. “Too bad it’s so slick outside or we could maybe take that ride.”
“Yeah.” Tabitha offered a somewhat sad smile. “Maybe someday.”
“Are you alone? Delaney’s not here?”
