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We drove by a coffee shop and a school where a gaggle of teens were busy in the courtyard in a very intense game of three-on-three. The next several blocks were stuffed full of small restaurants and stores, a bank, a doctor’s office, and a tiny fitness center.
A large grocery store loomed on the left. We puttered past it, saw a couple more streets of houses, and then suddenly there were only a couple of warehouses on either side of us followed by a stretch of fields.
I pulled over onto the gravel curb and squinted into the distance. I couldn’t see anything beyond the fields except some more forest.
“Was that it?” I said in disbelief. “The whole town? It’s only, like, fifteen blocks long!” That was barely even a neighborhood back in Austin.
Rafael cocked his head. “You wanted small, you got small. I can see why you didn’t have any trouble getting us that house.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard to find. Did you see River Street?”
He shook his head and motioned to his phone. “It looks like it’s down Maple Avenue, which is about three blocks back the way we came. Take a right.”
I yanked the wheel to take the car in a U-turn, still chewing over the situation. Somehow I hadn’t imagined the town being quitethistiny.
What if Rafael was right and I’d be going stir-crazy in a few days?
But what were my other options? The bigger the town or city, the more likely Mom would have connections there. She wasn’t going to let me go easily.
The image of Coach Balakin’s bloody body flashed through my mind, and my hands tightened around the wheel.
I’d have to make Hobb Creek work. The only thing to do now was to keep my head down and make sure I didn’t attract too much attention.
I followed Rafael’s directions and aimed the car down a residential street lined with bungalows and two-story houses with large lawns. In less than a minute, I spotted the sign for River Street.
I turned the corner, and there we were.
The bungalow looked just like it had in the pictures in the online listing, all maroon clapboard and slate-gray shingles on the roof, with a mailbox at the foot of the driveway. But the photographs hadn’t captured the flecks where the paint was peeling, or the dent in the side of the mailbox, or the weeds that were warring with the grass for dominance in the lawn.
That was all cosmetics, though. I couldn’t see anything actuallywrongwith the building.
A smile started to tickle across my lips as I pulled up the driveway. This was the perfect home for lying low.
The bungalow’s front door banged open as we stepped out onto the grass, and a portly man with tufts of gray hair poking up from his broad head made his way towards the car. His ruddy face shone with a broad grin.
“Miss Lou? You’ve made it!”
He extended his hand prematurely, before he was anywhere near close enough for me to reach it. When he was finally an arm’s length away, I grasped it and shook it. He pumped his arm up and down enthusiastically.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “You remember me from the phone call, yes? Dimitris Papadakis?”
I did. The man’s Greek accent had reminded me of Coach Balakin’s eastern European articulation. It had immediately endeared him to me. Now that I’d experienced his warm jubilance in person, I liked him even more.
“Of course,” I replied. “Thank you for giving us the chance to rent the house on such short notice. We’re very grateful, aren’t we, Rafael?"
My bodyguard only nodded in response. His eyes were trained on the bungalow. He was already assessing the area, his gaze honing in on the door and windows like laser-sights, evaluating every route in and out of the building.
Dimitris chuckled. “I’m grateful too. But come, come. Let me show you around.”
The heavy-set man ushered the two of us up the front steps. They creaked so loudly under our combined weight that I had to suppress a flinch.
Dimitris simply beamed at me. “They like to welcome you home.”
“Such an enthusiastic welcome too,” Rafael said under his breath.
The landlord chuckled again. “Your husband has a good sense of humor. I like that. But I’ve done some renovations inside for more comfort. I promise you’ll love living here.”
Rafael cleared his throat. “I’m not her husband. Just a friend.”
